Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,33

his men—the wolves that attacked you in your world—were they the first wolves you’d seen roaming? Had you ever seen them before that night?”

Does he think they might have planned the attack? I knit my brow, thinking back across the seemingly endless stretch of captivity. My sense of my life before has gone vague and dreamlike, as if it was only a happy illusion conjured in my sleep, but I know I’d remember seeing wolves wandering around town. It was a pretty small town, but hardly some tiny settlement in the wilderness.

I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. The biggest animals I remember seeing even when we’d go for hikes are raccoons and one time a porcupine.”

“Do you recall ever noticing a raven nearby? Or perhaps a wild rat?”

“There were crows sometimes, but I don’t think ravens. They’re bigger, right? And we had a wild mouse get into the house a few years before… but definitely no rats.” I glance up at Sylas. “Why specifically those?”

He gives me one of his restrained smiles. “I can’t help wondering if there was some fae influence in how you came to be as you are. We Seelie have the wolf in our nature, but there are also the Unseelie of the winter lands, who become ravens, and the rats of the Murk… who are better not dealt with at all if one can help it.” He moves to get up. “I shouldn’t be troubling you with these matters when you need your sleep.”

“It’s all right.” I rub my arms, willing away the last flickers of uneasiness from my nightmare. “Thank you for coming in. I’m glad I didn’t have to spend any more time in that dream.”

“No doubt you will find yourself there again. Nightmares like to inflict our worst memories on us. If I can, I’ll make sure you don’t stay in any of them too long.”

He turns toward the door, and I wonder abruptly how he speaks with so much confidence on the subject. What kinds of nightmares has he had?

I don’t think he’ll answer that, but him coming to me, helping me, was an opening. One I have to grasp hold of however I can, just like I grasped the bars of my cage to build up the strength in my arms.

“Are you usually awake at night?” I venture. I need to know when my new captors sleep if I’m ever going to escape.

I’d hoped the question would sound innocent enough, but Sylas’s expression turns even more opaque than before. “Don’t you worry yourself about me, little scrap.”

He says the nickname kindly enough, but the rest like a command, not a mere suggestion. Before I can respond, he’s already striding out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I sit there in the dark for several minutes, too wound up to even consider trying to sleep. My body slowly relaxes, but another question grips me, one I can answer for myself.

I slip off the bed and limp across the room, leaving my crutch so the tapping won’t give my movement away. My balance teeters, and a muted throbbing wakes up in my warped foot by the time I reach the door, but traveling around the keep over the last couple of days has steadied my legs enough that I at least don’t fall.

I curl my fingers around the polished wooden knob and twist it ever so gingerly.

It only moves a smidgeon before it catches. I can’t turn it any farther, and when I give it the gentlest of tugs, I can tell the door won’t budge.

The faerie lord wouldn’t let me stay trapped in a nightmare, but that hasn’t stopped him from locking me in my room at night.

My mouth has gone dry. I focus on the knob, remembering that moment in my cage when I released the lock. The syllables I practiced so many times before they worked tickle across my tongue with no thought at all. I cling to the fear winding through me and murmur the word with every bit of emotion I can muster. “Fee-doom-ace-own.”

The knob doesn’t budge. I repeat the magic word again, and again, and then stop, afraid if I keep it up someone will hear me.

Who knows how many different kinds of locking magic there are? Sylas hasn’t treated me like my former captors did in any other way, so why would I assume he’d use the same spell to hold me in?

It’ll be open during the day. I’ll still have chances.