A Court of Death || ACOTAR

28

Astryn woke up on a soft mattress. Someone had cleaned the blood off of her and dressed her in clean clothes. Her wrists and ankles were still shackled. A thick collar was added too, paired with a chain connected to the bed. It all kept her power locked away like the chains she had grown up in did. Not that she could have used her power with the sort of bone deep exhaustion she felt at the moment anyway.

It took her a few moments to recall what had happened, where she had been taken. She almost regretting coming back to life once the reality of the situation set in. Hybern. She was in Hybern.

It wasn't long before a male strolled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself.

"I apologize for all that," he said, waving vaguely at the chains, "can never be too careful."

"Who are you?" Astryn muttered, eyeing him suspiciously. She was certain she already knew, and the lifeless smile that turned up the corners of his lips only confirmed it.

"The King of Hybern," he introduced himself, seeming far too satisfied. She let out a hum as she appraised him.

"I thought you'd be taller," she commented, and he laughed.

"Rumor has it you prefer Illyrians anyway," he drawled, "or a particular Day Court Lord. The King of the Dead on occasion, perhaps?"

"Rumors misguided you," she corrected, "I've never been with Death."

"No, but he is a friend of yours," the King carried on easily, "how is it that he keeps you alive? That you move freely between his realm and this one?"

"Why would I share information with you?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"I could make this whole thing much more pleasant," he reasoned, "if you gave me reason to trust you, we could do away with those chains. You could sit by my side. An alliance between us...don't you think it would be fun? Your family turned their backs on you. Your own brother sat and murdered you over and over again to ensure his own survival. Prythian has brought you nothing but pain. I'd even be willing to spare Helion for you to have your fun with, so long as you keep your trysts with him quiet. A wife cheating publicly looks bad for me."

"A wife? That's absurd," she said, trying to ignore the unease pooling in her. How had it come to this again? In chains, powerless, made to be someone's wife?

"It's how lasting alliances are formed," the King replied as if it should be obvious, "you can agree now, or you can agree after the defiance is tortured out of you or one of my daemati manage to break into your mind and you think of nothing but how desperately you want to marry me and use your considerable power to assist in my cause. You and that half breed brother of yours are some of the strongest High Fae to be born in a long time. That strength paired with your power over death...oh, you'll be a useful ally. I'd like it if you were willing if only for the satisfaction it would bring me to see how it hurt your past lovers, but I don't need you to be willing."

"I will not betray my family."

"So be it. I'll tell them not to permanently ruin that pretty face. I don't want an ugly wife."

With that, the King of Hybern left the room. He was soon replaced with a group of guards. They unhooked the chain from the bed and did not flinch against her thrashing.

"Feisty little thing," one of the guards mocked as he threw her over his shoulder, "breaking you will be fun. It has been ages since we've had fun like this. Rhysand's precious baby sister...mm, did you know your brother killed mine in the last War? It will be nice to get some vengeance. I wish he could see what we'll do to his pretty sister."

The other guards began chiming in with their own commentary about friends or family lost to either Rhys, his legion, or just the Night Court's forces overall. It seemed those were now all her debts to repay.

They carried her to a dungeon beneath the palace. One guard held her down while another pulled her arms roughly up over her head and hooked her shackles into a chain hanging from the ceiling. She was left dangling a little over a foot above the ground, swaying as she squirmed.

"Last chance to change your mind," the one who seemed to be the leader offered, "but I really, really hope you don't change your mind yet."

Astryn stayed silent and stared straight ahead, working on mentally distancing herself from reality—from whatever was about to happen. She couldn't escape to Death's realm right now. She feared she wouldn't have the strength to return to her body if she left now.

So, she delved deep into her mind. She thought of Helion, of his secret trips to her cabin in the Middle. She thought of her pleasant, friendly visits to Death over the centuries. And when that did not do enough to distract her from the pain of blades and burns, she let herself think of Azriel fondly for the first time in a few centuries. Of Cassian.

She kept her mind far away from the present torture. The broken bones and the bruises and cuts and the burns were so distant she could hardly notice them.

Her escape was ruined after a few hours of torture. She felt someone trying to get into her mind. The King had warned her about his daemati. She shoved her memories aside and focused on keeping her mental wall as fortified as possible. It became harder to shut out the physical pain, but she didn't scream or cry. She put her energy into keeping her wall up.

And she promised herself she would survive.