The Witch's Cursed Daughter

37. The First Prince

Days or weeks scraped by, marked only by the turning on and off of the lighting fixtures which followed no discernable pattern. A warm spreading sensation poured from Evianna's head; her consciousness was returning to her slowly. Unable to recall how much time had passed before her eyes closed, she recognised the unpleasant sound of screaming originating in her throat. Her eyelids flickered under the heavy flow of red liquid rushing down from her forehead. Through the uneven blanket of blood, Illea's frame was recognisable, with her night-black hair fitting the spine-chilling darkness of the cell.

"Thank goodness, you're awake," Illea sighed sweetly, "much longer, and I would have had to resort to some measures I would like to avoid."

"Plea..." Evianna squeaked. While undergoing the torment of her new 'duty', Evianna's words had slowly closed themselves off from her, like a glass wall in her mind was stopping her from reaching them. Frustrated at her inability to speak, the pain felt stronger, causing an aquamarine to drop heavily from her right eye.

"Evianna, I have some wonderful news," Illea giggled excitedly while clearing away hot blood from Evianna's vision, "Grandmother had a brilliant idea which I was hoping you could assist me with."

Light-heartedly playing with Evianna's rusted chains, she grinned passionately as she began, "Now, I'm not sure if Father told you, but the country we are indebted to is called Angoles. It is a beautiful country; their national colours are blue and white, perfectly matching the royal family." Evianna wondered what she meant but paying attention to Illea's words was already a challenge while the excruciating pain from her head seemed to span further at every word. "They will be holding a Coming-of-Age ceremony soon for their princess; Grandmother wants to give the best gift out of all the attendees, a crown forged of diamonds and sapphires."

Evianna slumped in helplessness. Looking down between her thin legs, the mound of jewels that continued to grow only included a couple of each type of gem. With no order to their class or colour, the randomness of the jewels made her heart quiver. Evianna wailed silently as she foretold her own suffering.

"Unfortunately, the celebration is only a month away, and roughly a week is needed to forge, then a week to travel, that leaves us with two weeks to make as many precious stones as we can." Leaning closer, Illea's green eyes felt like a swamp pulling Evianna in, "I know we can do it."

After hours of cruelty, Illea invited her newest Mage to heal Evianna once again. The endless cycle of torture, pain, and jewels had stolen Evianna's voice; she feared that the stench of her blood, which never left her surroundings, would steal her sanity. Each day remained the same, an untold number of hours in the dark resting, with many more in the company of the princess. However, sometimes she would be visited by the apathetic first prince who would watch or grumble about his work before excusing himself.

One day, while Illea was cleaning her blade, she turned sharply, alerted to the clacking sound of ascending footsteps on the stone stairs of the tower. Seeing his figure appear, Illea's expression glowed as she threw her elegant frame into his arms.

"Elder brother, you are here again," letting him go, she peeked over at Evianna's perfectly healed body chained to the far wall, limp like a doll, "have a nice time." With that, she left looking for sunlight, closing the door loudly behind her.

The first prince made his way to his usual spot, sitting by the door, his nostrils flaring instinctively at the smell. Positioned by a light fixture, the bags under his eyes were almost as bruised as the ones below Evianna's. Evianna no longer wondered at his presence or his likeness to the king.

"Julian is still looking for you," he said monotonously, breaking the silence, "I assumed my sister would not tell you. He, his Guard and his Mage believe you are still alive."

Evianna craned her neck to look at him. The expected the light burned her gaze, much like the mention of Julian and Voster which was a glimmer of hope she could not afford.