Eris Vanserra Fanfiction-A Land Of Lavender And Thistle-Book One

CHAPTER XII

Eris

I sat in the thick darkness, my arms hugging my knees as the last of my tears dried on my cheeks. It was cold, so unnaturally cold I knew Father had someone enchant the cell I was placed in.

And it was quiet. So awfully quiet.

My heart was thumping against my ribs as my eyes dashed around, seeking even a single thread of light. But there was none.

I was strong enough that I could summon a flame to my fingers, keep myself warm and in light. I mustn't, though.

"I will know when you bring a fire to life. I will sense it. And when I do," Father had said, his breath grazing my skin, "I will burn your hands until not even a bone is left."

No, no. No, Father.

I mustn't cause a fire. I must be good. Obedient. 

Just a little more, I told myself. Just a bit more of this icy air and dark, then Mother will come and we will be in her rooms. Play and laugh in the sun.

Seconds ticked by, one after another.

I didn't know how long I was there. Hours, maybe days. I was hungry, lonely, scared and shivering. 

I could have sworn something in the shadows had moved.

I lunged to my feet and hurried to the stone stairs, slippery under my fingers as I crawled up. I pressed my face to the trap door, banging my fists to the wood. It didn't budge, it didn't even shudder against my palms.

"Get me out! Father, please! Get me out!" I shrieked and begged, but no one came.

No one answered my cries, no one cared. I screamed, weeping once again as the wicked dark prowled toward me, whispering what it would do to me. 

Burn me, beat me, break me, eat me.

"I'll be good. Father, I will be good, please! Get me out!"

It was climbing the stairs now and I pushed my entire body against the trap door. The mockery of a crown made of twigs, thorns and dried leaves fell off my head. I heard the twigs crunch when the darkness moved over it.

"Father! Mother!"

Cold licked my bare feet. 

It arrived.

Silence and gloom devoured me, suffocating me–

I jerked, scrambling away from the sheets that were strangling me. I pressed my back to the headboard of the bed, my breathing ragged and lashing out of me.

I looked around, taking in the familiar walls of my bedroom, the chairs beside the desk, the open doors of the balcony, the velvet-wrapped furniture. I nailed my gaze to the steady fire in the fireplace overhead. I slid the sweaty palm from my throat and flicked my hand at the fireplace.

Golden flames erupted in the fireplace, scorching the stone roof of the hearth. I flung my legs out of the bed, dragging my fingers through the sweat-damp hair at my forehead. My chest was heaving when I lashed out an arm and removed the long drapes floating in the wind.

I swallowed the fresh night air as I stepped out on the balcony, looking down at the slumbering timberland surrounding the Forest House. The moon bathed the gilded rail of the balcony, my hands clutching the cool metal as I let my fire draw its phantom hands across my chest and arms.

I bowed my head, closing my eyes as my hair flew in the wind. In my mind, the throne appeared, glowing and ethereal. Empty, ready for its High Lord to come.

I opened my eyes, and I sensed the fire blazing in there as embers crackled at my knuckles.

Just a little more, I told myself, grinning. Just a little more, and the throne would be mine.