Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,40
blue velvet coverlet that falls practically down to his knees, with a stitched white insignia on his chest I don’t recognize. If that isn’t bad enough, the feather of a peacock pokes out of a pocket over his heart.
Such ridiculous clothing. Did he wear the thing willingly or did he lose a bet?
Just the sight of him ticks me off. He being the only faerie I’ve seen since unlawfully imprisoned, a roar of fire builds within my chest and my limbs yearn to lash out and attack him with everything I’ve got. However, I’m not that stupid. My internal rage jumps leaps and bounds over what I know my body can physically do at this moment.
Condescendingly, I sing, “Are you the court jester?”
His arm swings so fast I can’t react, even though I should have seen it coming. The back of his hand smacks the side of my face and my head swings violently into the cave wall. Jagged shards of rock slice my cheek and punch my forehead. Instant pain radiates from my head, which already hurt to begin with. My hand automatically reaches for the cheek that was struck, now inflamed with a steady burn. I dare not look back; part in fear, part in trying to control the tears trying to force their way out. I will not cry for them.
“My name is Finley,” the jerk adds. “And as a matter of fact, I am in the court system. I’m the Warden of this prison, though I usually don’t have to make an appearance. I don’t like to make an appearance. I detest this place and everything in it. But thanks to you, here I am.”
With my tears under control, I turn to face him, eyes glaring back with murderous passion.
“Maybe if you hadn’t imprisoned me wrongfully I wouldn’t be here to bother you with escape attempts.” His silence chills me to the bone. I’m not sure if he’ll strike me again, so my body immediately tenses, awaiting impact. When he doesn’t, I add, “I don’t belong here and you know it.”
He chuckles to himself and paces the diameter of the hole. The spriggan standing guard behind him sends an amused sneer my way. “You don’t belong here,” he replies, mocking me. “Tell me this, number sixty-eight. Has anyone come looking for you? Anyone at all?”
Anger flushes my cheeks, and my fists clinch on the sides of my body.
“You ran through the barrier easily enough. So you know anyone could have walked into the prison and saved you at any time. But they haven’t. Because you’re replaceable. Your Hollow never even sent a search party because you’re not worth the effort.
“You didn’t have a lover back home either, did you? Nor a family to stand up and fight for you.” He pauses dramatically and cocks his eyebrows, challenging me to correct him. He chuckles when I don’t. “Trust me. You’re right where you belong.”
I turn my gaze away, his words hurting me more than I like to admit, because no one has come for me. Or at least never found me. My chest takes on weight and my torso sinks lower to the ground.
“The quicker you admit that to yourself, the quicker I’ll let you out of this hole and put you back with your inmates. Got it, sixty-eight?”
Annoyed, I spit, “My name is Rosalie.”
He bends at the waist to level our eyes. They’re cold and dark and chilling. “You have no name. Just a number.”
I’m fuming inside, but decide silence is my best defense for the moment. When I refuse to take the bait, he rises and spins toward the spriggan. “I see you’ve already had your water ration for today. Here’s your fruit.” He pulls a mini strawberry from his pocket, but before I can even contemplate whether it’s worth reaching for, he drops it on the floor and squishes it with the sole of his shoe. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength for our session tomorrow.”
He roars with wicked laughter as he takes flight. The spriggan, with his eerie smile in the flickering shadows, grabs the lantern and ascends behind him, leaving me in darkness once again.
I debate a good ten minutes about whether or not to eat the strawberry. What he’s done is demeaning, but I can’t deny the hunger within. I missed breakfast the day I ran, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here; long enough my stomach seems annoyed over having food in front of me that I’m not