A Court of War and Rage

Chapter Four

Azriel

Every day, I grow stronger. Every day, the rage inside of me is devoured, replaced by a quiet calm. The shadows of my cell sing their sweet melodies in my ears, keeping me company. When I visit her, my mother hugs me tightly. When I am ripped away from her, tears pour down her face as I am dragged back into that darkness. My haven. I say nothing, no matter the taunts or sneers thrown my way. I offer no resistance as I am locked away again.

Let them think me weak. Let them believe they have broken me. Let them forget I am strong. One day, I will show them. One day, I will have my vengeance. The shadows whisper their secrets to me, feeding me information of the comings and goings of the keep. I see everything. I hear everything.

I learn I can observe through the shadows as well. My father's warriors train in the courtyard. In the blackness of my cell, I begin to mimic their movements. My wings brush the walls of the cell, but I push them out to strengthen them. I must grow stronger.

I lose count of the days as I work my body in the darkness. The ragged tunic and pants grows tighter with each passing week. The shadows begin to follow me into the light, moving smoothly over my body, my face. The sneers turn to nervous glances. One week, during our hour together, my mother presents me with new clothes

"I made these for you, my son. You have gotten so big." I offer her a smile of gratitude and don the new clothes while the guard is outside the door. She hides my old ones in a pile of mending that grows larger each time I visit her. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. All at once, I notice how pale she has become. Bruises mar her arms and face.

"What happened to you?" My voice creaks from disuse. "Why are you covered in bruises?"

My mother glances nervously at the guard that has reappeared in the room, supervising our visit. He glares at us both. I put my hand over my mother's and squeeze. She cannot answer with that soldier listening. "Thank you for the gift." She offers me a tired smile. My heart drops at the sorrow in her eyes. How have I not noticed it before? What is happening to her?

Before I can speak again, the door swings open, revealing two more guards. The soldier grabs my shoulders roughly. "Come on, little bastard. Let's go."

Surely it hasn't been an hour yet. I memorize my mother's face before I am pulled from the room. I hear the thud of the bolt echoing in my mind. I had no idea she is as much a prisoner as I am. For the first time, I want to fight against these males. Wait and observe. An icy rage fills me as the lock of my own cell slides into place.

I want to rip the door down piece by piece, break apart these walls stone by stone, and fly into the sky with my mother... but I'm not strong enough. Not yet. The entire cell comes alive with the writhing tentacles of darkness, ready to do my bidding, as my rage burns through me. Whispers come to me from all directions, all of the voices blending together. I need to make sure she is okay. I need to know what is happening to her. The shadows wrap themselves around me, pulling me with them to my mother's room. I need to keep an eye on her.

I spend the rest of the day watching my mother's deft fingers mending tunic after tunic. Her hands shake between each one. No one enters her room, but I remain on my patient vigil. When the sunlight leaves her room, she climbs into the small bed shoved into the corner. I watch my mother sleep until a faint grinding sound reaches my ears.

Light from the hallway spills into the room. My mother lifts her head, a look of fear on her face. I recognize the figure of my half-brother, Dreven, in the doorway. "Good evening," he says with mocking politeness. A resigned expression crosses her face.

Dreven walks to the bed, shrugging off his tunic. Once he is bare, he climbs into the bed with my mother. She casts her eyes downward as Dreven begins undressing her and throwing her clothing onto the floor. In the faint light from the window, I see more bruises and cuts coloring my mother's back, neck, and arms. A fresh wave of fury fills me at the sight. What is he doing to her?

Under the blankets, I watch Dreven climb on top on my mother, pinning him underneath of her. His hands hold her arms tightly. He begins thrusting forward rapidly, his breathing picking up speed. She winces as he leans to brush his mouth against her neck.

Every thought empties from my mind when I realize what he is doing to her.

After several minutes, Dreven groans loudly and stills. Fresh marks cover her arms when he removes his hands. Clambering out of her bed, he gives my mother a satisfied smirk before putting his clothes back on. After the door is locked, tears continue to stream down my mother's beautiful face. I withdraw, willing myself back into my body.

I allow myself to be wholly consumed by the anger coursing through me. I swear I will make all of you pay for what you have done to my mother and I. One day, you will feel every moment of pain and suffering that you have made us endure. The darkness within me delights at the prospect of violence, of vengeance. I lose myself in that darkness, savoring the rage.

One day, I will come for you. And you will be consumed by the shadows.