Bound to her Captor

The first thing Reina felt was pain. Her head throbbed with every jolt of the wagon, each bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through her skull. Her wrists burned-rope, she realized dimly, rough hemp cutting into her skin. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and fear, and somewhere close by, a girl was crying. Reina forced her eyes open. Darkness. No-not complete darkness. Slivers of harsh sunlight cut through gaps in the wagon's wooden slats, illuminating the faces of perhaps a dozen other girls, all huddled together like frightened animals. Some sobbed quietly. Others stared at nothing, their eyes hollow and distant. Where am I? The question formed slowly through the fog in her mind, and with it came a creeping sense of dread. She remembered. The memory slammed into her like a physical blow-the sound of screaming, the acrid smell of smoke, the clash of steel on steel. Her kingdom. Her home. Burning. They had come at dawn. Reina had been in the gardens, as far from her father and brothers as she could manage, when the first screams reached her. By the time she ran back to the palace, it was already too late. The demons had come. That's what the servants called them, in the whispered stories they thought the nobles couldn't hear. Demons from the realms beyond the mountains, beautiful as fallen angels and twice as deadly. Reina had thought they were just stories. She'd been wrong. They moved through the palace like death itself-men, if they could be called that, with impossibly perfect features and eyes that burned like coals. Their hair fell in dark waves past their shoulders, and they cut through her father's guards as easily as a scythe through wheat. She'd hidden in an alcove, frozen with terror, and watched a demon warrior drive his blade through her father's chest. She should have felt something. Grief. Horror. Rage. Instead, she felt nothing. Her father had never been kind. Never been loving. He'd been preparing to sell her off to some foreign lord like a prize mare, and she'd hated him for it. But her mother- "Reina!" Her mother's scream cut through the chaos, raw and desperate. Reina had tried to run to her, but rough hands seized her from behind. She'd fought-clawed and kicked and bit-but it was useless. Something hard connected with her skull, and the world had tilted sideways. Then: nothing. Until now. "Water," someone croaked nearby. "Please... water..." Reina turned her head-too quickly; fresh pain exploded behind her eyes-and found herself looking at a girl no older than fifteen, her face streaked with tears and grime. "There isn't any," Reina said, her voice rough from disuse. "Save your strength." The girl's eyes widened in recognition. "Your Highness-" "Don't." Reina cut her off with a sharp gesture. "That doesn't matter anymore." But the word had already spread. Around her, girls were lifting their heads, staring at her with a mixture of hope and despair. They wanted her to fix this. To save them. She couldn't even save herself. "Where are they taking us?" someone whispered. Reina didn't answer. She didn't know. But she could guess: slavery, if they were lucky. Something worse, if they weren't. She pressed her face to one of the gaps in the wooden slats, squinting against the harsh light. Through the narrow opening, she could see nothing but endless desert-red sand stretching to the horizon under a sun that beat down like a hammer. They were far from home. Far from anything she'd ever known. And then, in the distance, she saw it. A gate. But calling it a gate was like calling the ocean a puddle. It rose from the desert floor like a monument to some forgotten god-a massive arch of black stone that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it. Strange symbols covered its surface, glowing faintly with an inner fire that pulsed like a heartbeat. The wagon rolled to a stop. Around her, the girls began to scream. "No! No, please-" "I don't want to die-" "Somebody help us!" Reina's fingers dug into the wooden floor of the wagon, her nails splintering against the rough grain. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly. Panic wouldn't help. Panic would only make this worse. The gate began to open. It made no sound-that was somehow worse than if it had groaned or shrieked. It simply... parted, the black stone sliding aside to reveal what lay beyond. Heat rolled out in waves, washing over them like the breath of some enormous furnace. Through the opening, Reina could see a landscape that belonged in nightmares: jagged mountains of volcanic rock, rivers of something that glowed like molten gold, and in the distance, a palace that seemed carved from darkness itself. The demon realm. It was real. All of it was real. "Move!" A harsh voice barked, and the wagon lurched forward. They crossed the threshold. The moment they passed through the gate, Reina felt it-a change in the air, in the very fabric of reality. The heat intensified, pressing down on her like a physical weight. The light took on a reddish tinge, as if the sun itself had been replaced by something older and angrier. This was not her world anymore. The wagon stopped in a courtyard paved with black stone that reflected the sky like dark water. All around them, demons moved with predatory grace-soldiers in armor that seemed forged from shadow, servants in flowing robes, creatures that were beautiful and terrible in equal measure. The wagon's door slammed open. "Out! All of you, out!" Rough hands grabbed Reina, yanking her forward. She stumbled, her legs numb from hours of confinement, and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her knees, but she bit back the cry that rose in her throat. Don't show weakness. Not here. Not ever. Around her, the other girls were being dragged from the wagon, thrown to the ground like sacks of grain. One-the young girl who'd begged for water-fell face-first and didn't get up. She just lay there, sobbing into the black stone. Something hot and furious flared in Reina's chest. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the protests of her battered body, and moved to the girl's side. "Get up," she said quietly, firmly. "Get up now." The girl looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes. "We're not going to die here," Reina told her, with more confidence than she felt. "But you have to stand. You have to be brave. Do you understand?" Slowly, trembling, the girl nodded. Reina helped her stand. Other girls were watching now. Drawing strength from her example, standing straighter despite their fear. Good. If they were going to survive this, they'd have to be strong. They were herded like cattle into a side chamber, where servants with cold eyes and colder hands stripped them of their filthy clothes and doused them with freezing water. Reina gasped at the shock of it but held still, refusing to flinch as rough cloth scrubbed away layers of dirt and blood. When it was done, they were given simple gray shifts to wear-rough fabric that chafed against her skin-and led back out into the courtyard. Fifteen of them now, standing in a line. A soldier paced before them, his armor gleaming dully in the red-tinged light. "Prince Daresh requires servants for his personal quarters," he announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "He will inspect you shortly. You will keep your eyes down. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless commanded." He paused, letting his gaze sweep over them. "Break these rules, and you will be sent to the lower pits. Trust me-you don't want to know what happens there." Reina's jaw tightened. Personal quarters. She knew what that meant. What men like this prince would want from girls like them. Her stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral. Footsteps echoed across the courtyard-slow, measured, deliberate. An older woman emerged from the shadows of the palace, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, her face lined with age and something harder. Cruelty, maybe. Or just years of survival in this place. She walked down the line of girls, studying each one with sharp, calculating eyes. When she reached Reina, she stopped. Tilted her head. "This one has spirit," she murmured. "The prince might find that... interesting." Reina said nothing. Kept her eyes down, her breathing even. The woman moved on. "The prince approaches," the soldier called out. "Eyes down!" Reina's heart hammered in her chest. And then she heard it-the sound of boots on stone, drawing closer. The footsteps stopped. Silence fell over the courtyard like a held breath. Every girl in the line had her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Every girl except- Reina looked up. She couldn't help it. Some defiant part of her-the part that had never learned to bow to her father, that had refused to be broken even when they'd tried to sell her off like property-demanded to see the face of her captor. And what she saw stole the breath from her lungs. He was beautiful. Not the soft, pretty beauty of human nobles, but something sharper. Harsher. Otherworldly. His hair fell past his shoulders in waves of pure silver, catching the strange light and seeming to glow with its own inner radiance. His features were perfect-sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, full lips set in a slight frown. But it was his eyes that trapped her. Blue. Not the blue of the sky or the sea, but the blue of the hottest part of a flame-the part that burns so intensely it transcends orange and red and becomes something purer. Something deadly. The hottest fire burns blue. The thought rose unbidden in her mind, and with it came a terrible realization: this man-this demon-was the most dangerous thing she'd ever seen. And he was staring directly at her. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. His blue-flame eyes locked onto hers, and she saw something flicker in their depths-surprise, maybe. Or curiosity. Then the soldier barked, "Eyes down!" and Reina's gaze snapped to the ground, her heart slamming against her ribs. Stupid. So stupid. The footsteps resumed, moving down the line. She heard the prince's voice-low, smooth, utterly cold-saying, "That one. And that one. And her." The footsteps returned. Stopped in front of her. She could feel him staring at her, could feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "This one too," he said finally, his voice washing over her like dark silk. And then he was gone, his footsteps fading back toward the palace. The old woman materialized at Reina's side, her fingers digging into Reina's arm like claws. "You four. With me." She led them away from the courtyard, through a doorway and into the palace proper. The corridors were dark, lit only by torches that burned with the same unnatural blue flame as the prince's eyes. The walls were smooth black stone, carved with images Reina didn't want to look at too closely-demons and fire and things that screamed silently in eternal torment. "You'll be taken to the servant quarters," the old woman said as they walked. "You'll be given instructions. You'll follow them precisely. The prince..." She paused, glancing back at them with something that might have been pity. "The prince does not tolerate mistakes." Reina said nothing. Just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, through the darkness of this nightmare she'd woken into. Her mother was out there somewhere. Alive or dead, she didn't know. But Reina would survive this. She would find a way. She had to. Behind them, the gate to the demon realm groaned shut with a sound like the closing of a tomb. There was no going back now.