Something.

  She needed to do something, but everything hurt.

  Light stabbed at her through swollen, crusted eyelids.

  Every sound was a pounding like drums to her throbbing head.

  Her mouth tasted of blood, and each breath clawed painfully at her chest.

  Valerlanta tried to shift, to move, but her arms were chained behind her back, and she lacked the energy to try rising without their support.

  At least the cold of the stone beneigth her was a welcome feel against her skin, even if it smelled foul.

  ‘Get up. At least try to get up,’ she urged herself, but her body refused to obey. The room was dim, but the fact that she could see at all meant that some manner of light was returning to the sky. She had lost the entire night to pain, to unconsciousness.

  With a wince, Valerlanta tried to bring trembling fingers towards her blindings, hoping maybe — somehow — channeling her magic could set her free. But when she called for that familiar pull of magic, nothing answered. Her mind was too foggy, her body too drained.

  No magic. Nothing to pick the locks. No energy to move.

  Was this it? Had she defied her father’s orders, only to fail so utterly on her first real adventure? To die here, in chains, in some forgotten cell?

  Valerlanta had walked into this mess with such arrogance, believing she could carve her own path. But now? It was clear—she was a fool, an idiot. She hadn’t even learned from her mistakes when they’d nearly gotten her killed the first time.

  Had Venic escaped?

  Her mind clung to the thought, desperately hoping that at least he escaped the consequences of yet another one of her mistakes.

  Such thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, heavy and echoing, reverberating through her skull like thunder. The door creaked open, and a pair of boots — far too expensively made for this place — appeared in front of her.

  Askyel.

  Even though it made her wince, Valerlanta lifted her head to see him.

  His cold blue eyes regarded her with what looked like pity, but Valerlanta knew better.

  Even in her disoriented state, her mind whirled with insults at the sight of him.

  Kneeling, he lifted a strand of blood-matted hair from her face, before letting it fall back with a grimace.

  “Look at the state of you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Poor thing.”

  Valerlanta forced a smile, even though it cracked wound on her lips. “Wait until you see what I’m going to do to you.”

  Resting his elbow on his knee, he set his chin in his hand and studied her. “I tried to warn you, you know.”

  “What?” she croaked.

  “When you came to me with the puzzle ball, back in the market,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I tried to warn you. My, what a surprise that was.”

  At first Valerlanta wanted to call him out on his lies, but then her eyes widened as the memory surfaced. He had warned her.

  ‘Valerlanta,’ he had said. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you sold the orb to me and left it at that? There is movement in the woods, and word is that Wlyfaren is planning on crossing the border any day now. The wilds will be full of war. It is oftentimes like this where it is best to lay low.’

  She had brushed it off. A small warning, lost in the excitement of her find.

  She laughed bitterly now. “I would’ve appreciated something a little more direct. How about, ‘Valerlanta, if you don’t hand it over, I’ll sell you out and try to have you killed?’ That would’ve done it.”

  “Ha! Absolutely not. That would ruin the whole plan…a plan, by the way, you were never supposed to be a part of. It was expected that one of your fathers men would come across the ball, and bring it to him. Then, it would be his curiousity that would bring him to me…not you. Then, all I would have to do is nudge his curiosity in the right direction so he would continue on to where we needed him to be.”

  Cold realization washed over her. “This was all a trap…for my father…?”

  “Well, not all of it, but it was my requirement for aiding this little scheme. Why do you think that, out of the entire wilds, everything happened in your fathers territory?” Askyel explained, “Then if Nymven didn’t kill the knight upon meeting him, Venic would lead him towards Palenwood, where the third piece would be conveniently waiting with very little security, and your father would pick up the wrong one, set off the bells to alert the gaurds, and meet his end. To think you would grab the right one! That was a wonderful surprise.”

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, refusing to believe it.

  “It is very true. It was never supposed to be you,” he said again, his face flickering over hers, and Valerlanta realized she did not have a mask and felt exposed as he took in her facial features for the first time. “No, I had plans for you.”

  Her stomach lurched.

  Everything she had done, every step she had taken, had played directly into their hands. It had all been planned out from the start, and her stupid choices just made it easier for them.

  It had all been for nothing.

  It also meant…

  “Oh, poor little thing, I can see the hurt of betrayal all over your face. You realized it, didn't you? I know this will not be easy for you, but I do think you deserve to know.” Askyel reached into his jacket, pulling out the puzzle ball; holding it out for her to see. “Venic was always going to hand these over. He was never on your side. He’s a spy that turned his back on his home kingdom, Valerlanta.”

  Venic.

  Venic had given him the pieces.

  Venic was working for the king.

  Her mind reeled, struggling to grasp the truth.

  He had betrayed her. After everything... he had given her up.

  Even Venic had used her; pulled her along on a quest for nothing.

  The pain of the truth hit harder than any of her wounds. Her breath hitched, her vision swimming as she fought back the urge to scream, thrash, maybe even cry.

  Instead, she forced a smile through the pain.

  “I think,” she rasped, “when I get out of here, I’ll coat random things in your house with fenbane bark dust. You’ll get a rash every time you touch something, but you won’t know what’s safe. I’ll keep doing it, too, every chance I get, until you’re too scared to pick anything up — even your own clothes — and slowly fall into madness until you wander naked in the streets.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Actually … no. That is not nearly cruel enough. I appologise, my head is a little foggy on account of all the hits it had, but don’t worry, I will think of something better suited to you.”

  Askyel chuckled. “Still so much spirit, even now. Well, you’ll have plenty of time to think up more creative punishments. You’re going on a trip, Valerlanta. To the summer palace, where you’ll be executed before the king himself.”

  Her smile vanished.

  “That’s right,” he continued, clearly enjoying the shock in her eyes. “Everyone knows how much your father loves his dear sweet daughter, so I have no doubt your public execution will devastate him. I may not get to kill him directly, but this may still accomplish my goal in it’s own way, so perhaps in the end, I’ll get what I was promised.”

  Askyel stood, tucking the ball and key back into his coat. “Goodbye, Valerlanta. I hope they grant you a quick death. I’ll be in the crowd, though, so at least you won’t die completely alone.”

  With that, he turned and left, the cell door clanging shut behind him.

  “No,” Valerlanta breathed, her voice trembling. She tried to move, to fight, but the chains held her fast. “NO!”

  Her scream echoed in the empty cell, but the footsteps outside faded away, leaving her alone, chained, and sinking deeper into the crushing weight of her failure.