“I brought you some more books,” Glendower said, placing the expensive gifts on the ratty cot, next to where I was kneeling to paint. I'd tried to sweet-talk him into getting me a more comfortable bed once, but Evalina had vehemently objected to that request. “I have to take another trip.”
“You've been traveling a lot recently,” I commented, sitting back on my heels and angling myself to look at him. My lack of defensive behavior recently seemed to please Glendower. Like he thought I trusted him more. Really, it was just that my skin was so strong now that only a dragon’s talons could hurt me.
Huh. Glendower looked oddly haggard. Drawn. Pale.
“I had a rather uncooperative fae escape. She made a bit of a production of it, it could make life difficult for me,” he mused, his hands twisting almost nervously. How strange. I'd never seen him anything less than infuriatingly confident.
"And here was me thinking I was the only one being kept here against my will. Apparently, I'm not as special as I thought," I teased, knowing nothing softened Glendower up more than talking about my rarity.
"My little gold," he purred. I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth grinding together in irritation. "Of course, you are special. The others serve a purpose. Their magic benefits me.
“But you, my dear, are a precious treasure. The ungrateful fae girl could have enjoyed more comforts eventually too if she hadn't run off. Paints and books, like you have," he muttered angrily, more to himself than me.
Paints and books. A dark cave, worn out blanket, and just enough food to survive.
Luxury, indeed.
Others, plural?
“It must be difficult having prisoners who aren't as agreeable as I am,” I said drily, hoping I'd get more information out of him while he was in such a strange mood.
“Quite,” Glendower agreed, shifting back to his usual bizarre self and giving me an adoring look. It wasn’t one of love. It was more like how dragons admired a particularly fine diamond in their hoard. Or at least I thought it was. It had been a while since I’d spent time with my kind.
“Perhaps I could move you to one of the other properties. It would be very distressing to me if you starved to death in my absence,” he lamented, rubbing his chin.
“I would be so grateful if you would, you know how it upsets me when you’re gone,” I pleaded lightly, turning back to my mural in case my lies were written all over my face. I mean, it upset me a little, but only because he was the only one in his mating circle of four who wanted me here and remembered to feed me.
I might be able to escape if he moved me. The gods knew he wouldn't be taking the shift-proof shackles off me any other way. The plan was to go full dragon and rip them all apart, possibly feast on their corpses and pick my teeth with their bones.
It would serve them right for feeding me fae food all these years. Dragons weren't designed to survive off bread and fruit.
“My beautiful gold dragon, you know I hate to upset you. You are the crowning jewel in my collection,” Glendower practically wailed. "I will talk to Evalina about moving you. We have other properties that could accommodate you."
Other properties with ready-to-go cave prisons? Unease slithered down my spine as I glanced back at him over my shoulder. As far as captors went, he'd been my favorite so far. I'd always thought of Glendower as a harmless maniac who kept me — and only me — as something of a pet.
Yes, I lived in a cave in chains, but he brought me paints and books so I didn’t entirely lose my mind from boredom. I’d developed a fascination with herbalism from the books about plant life he’d given me. The poetry book he’d given me was worn through from my constant use. He’d even occasionally brought me meat when I felt like I’d die from eating dreary vegetables, day in and day out.
Sometimes I thought he’d probably like to do more for me, but Evalina disapproved. Glendower seemed to mostly run things around here, but Evalina put her foot down when it came to making me more comfortable.
She probably objected to the expense of keeping me when I served no real purpose except as a possession for Glendower to gloat about.
Regardless, I’d always seen Glendower as an improvement over my last captors. If he had a supply of prisons around the place and other prisoners, then perhaps I’d underestimated him.
“It pains me to leave you, my darling dragon. Be good for me, won't you? The servants will bring you food, perhaps even meat if you behave,” he called over his shoulder.
“Like I have much choice,” I muttered. He may be more lenient than my previous owners, but there were still shift-proof shackles around my ankles that kept me here and my dragon contained. My options for being bad were pretty much non-existent.
When I’d first arrived here, not long after I turned sixteen, a traitorous part of me had been quite excited about the cave.
I’d never had a bedroom of my own before. The privacy was nice. The bed was not though, and the only other thing in here was a shelf carved into the rock that housed my books and paints. There was a small latrine in the corner that Evalina had formed with her earth magic.
Luxury upon luxury.
I had at least been allowed the dignity of using a bathroom in my last prison, but I’d also slept in there, so I suppose no jail is perfect.
Giving up on my disproportionate painting, I settled myself on the thin cot mattress and pulled the threadbare woollen blanket over my legs, flicking mindlessly through the herbalism book Glendower had left for me, closely examining the sketches and memorizing the leaves. I'd taught myself to read, but it was a slow process and I relied heavily on the images to help me.
Scen-sage: When brewed, it can be an effective antidote for a range of common potions. Brew time: ten days. Ineffective for mermaids.
I traced the shape with my index finger, memorizing the thin spikes of the leaves. It made me feel like I was preparing, and that kept me sane. The moment I gave up planning for my freedom, I may as well go to sleep and not wake up again.
Besides, that fae girl had escaped. Maybe Glendower was getting careless, and my opportunity would arise soon. I was confident I could survive in the forest with my plant knowledge. If I was lucky, I’d never see another fae or dragon for as long as I lived.
If I was very, very lucky.
The light that came through the crevices in the rock ceiling above me faded as night fell. I loved and hated the darkness. I loved the familiarity but hated the time it gave me to exist in my own head.
I didn’t have much in this life, but time I had in abundance.
With the utmost care, I lined my books up on the shelf, upright so their covers were facing out and I could admire them from my bed. I had seven now. Seven escapes from reality. Seven reminders that the world outside continued while I was trapped here, growing older and stewing in bitterness.
With a heavy sigh that sounded even louder in the confined space, I climbed back into bed, arranging the blanket over my legs as best I could with the chains attached to my ankles, and prepared for the disappointment of my nightly ritual.
It was an exercise in torture, but I hadn’t been able to give it up.
I closed my eyes and forced myself back into the worst night of my life, desperate to break the emotions free that were buried somewhere in the depths of my soul. The feelings that lay just beyond my reach.