afflicted

18

 Staring through the iron bars of a cell, Callie cursed herself. It was almost funny, if you didn't think about it too hard. She didn't remember life before the cell Azriel had kept her in, and now she was right back where she started. Trapped.

She had run out of tears by now. There were none left to cry. She hadn't expected Azriel to choose her over his brother. She knew he never would, especially not after all she'd done. He'd kept her as company to keep from being so alone, and now he wasn't alone anymore and had no need for her. She was embarrassed to admit she'd harbored a small bit of hope deep within her chest that the time they'd spent together had meant something to him. She knew better and let herself hope anyway. She'd set herself up for this hurt. She was the only one to blame for any of it.

She heard heavy footfall and stiffened. She could have been in the cell for hours or days, it was hard to tell anymore. But she knew where she was being taken before the burly man ever opened the gates to her captivity. She was where she'd intended to end up after she'd left the cabin.

Gripping underneath her armpits, the man hoisted her along as she stumbled over her own feet in an attempt to keep up with his wide, lumbering steps. He drug her along a dim hallway only lit by a few crackling sconces, painting dancing shadows along the cold stone walls. The faint orange hue allowed her to see the scarred man's face, curved into a scowl that looked permanent, based on the wrinkles and lines in his face. He was certainly older, but no less terrifying or large. His arms were corded with more muscles than she'd ever seen, even on Cassian, which was saying something.

They passed several doors before he pushed one open with a shrill creak and dropped her with a sickening crack to her knees in front of a dark-haired woman. She was perched upon a make-shift throne, one lacking carving or ornation to deem that it was made for a Queen, which is what she supposed Maeve deemed herself to be. Her skin was pale, almost like she had no blood nor anything else that would make her human. Her eyes were a blazing violet she'd only ever seen once.

"Well, hello, little bird," the woman cooed, dark painted lips curving into a menacing smile. There was nothing kind or warm about this woman. For the millionth time, she prayed to remember all that had been forgotten. But as before, nothing came.

Callie coughed, her throat dry and itchy. She dripped blood onto the concrete from the wound she'd sustained in her side when they'd found her. It must have reopened the wound when man had lifted her. She grimaced at the singing echo of pain piercing her side. She allowed it to steel her, focus her. She supposed she couldn't be upset about any of it. She had wanted to be found. She just only hoped she hadn't gotten Azriel or Cassian caught in the process. But she knew they would have been used to hurt her by now if they had.

"My, my, you've been busy since we last spoke," Maeve drolled on, lifting a dainty teacup to her mouth and sipping before returning it to the small decorative dish it sat upon. "You didn't think you'd truly escaped, did you? I always knew I would find you eventually. Although I'll admit, you must be more cunning than I'd anticipated to have even made it as long as you did on your own."

On your own. Callie steeled her features to hide the relief that flooded her. She hadn't found Az or Cass. Likely, she didn't even know they were still alive. If Callie could help it, she never would. Callie needed to be smart about her next moves. Anything she did could jeopardize her mate's safety. Despite his lack of appreciation for the bond, she'd never allow anything to happen to him. Part of her found solace in the idea of him still being out there somewhere, learning again how to feel happiness. Without Callie's hindrance, the two Illyrians would be able to lean on each other and begin to rebuild their lives. She knew she'd made the right decision. Her death was inconsequential at best. No one would mourn her. She was the only hope Prythian had. She just had to get close enough to Maeve to kill her. Which was much easier said than done. She was surprised Maeve hadn't dug her talons into her mind yet to dig the truth from her. She needed Maeve to remain unaware that she'd been found on purpose.

"I remember you being much more verbose, dear," Maeve said, using her black-painted tipped nails to push a loose strand of her dark hair back into place. Callie allowed her mind to drift slightly, pondering the situation she was faced with. Did Maeve know her memories were gone? Had that been her doing?

"I remember you being prettier," Callie spit, bracing herself for the reaction, but was even more shocked to find Maeve laughing.

"Spitfire as ever, little bird. I have missed your ferocity," she said, her voice high and clear. "It's a trait I could use a bit more of around here. Though I'm not quite sure what to do with you now that I've found you. My sweet little assassin."

Callie's stomach roiled.

"Though you did escape and run from me. Why is that? I've been wondering," she said as she tapped her nails on the arm of her chair. "Why would someone commit the heinous act their captor required and then escape? Why would the escape efforts not be made before? I've had quite a bit of time to mull it over and still haven't deciphered it."

Callie wanted to laugh at the irony. Little did Maeve know, she had no clue either. Though she could admit, she did have a point. Why would she have waited until after she murdered everyone she loved to escape? What was escape even worth at that point? Just as Maeve still did, she would have thought Azriel and Cassian dead as well. She would have had no reason to believe otherwise.

When Callie didn't answer, Maeve hummed to herself.

"Take her back to her cell until she's prepared to talk. No food or water, either. Perhaps that will motivate her to be a bit more forthcoming. I could always steal the answer from her, but what's the fun in that? I do love a good torture session. And I have nothing if not time to play." Maeve dismissed her with a half-hearted wave of her hand and directed her attention back to her teacup as the guard hauled Callie back up and drug her back to her cell, slamming the door shut and locking her inside.

When Callie was alone, she began to plan.