Page 65 of She Who Holds My Wrath

She nods, shame painting her ethereal features. “Kaelith used me for his pleasures. I was barely old enough to understand what he wanted at the start. But your husband, he stopped him.” Her voice cracks. “He said if Kaelith touched me again, he’d burn him alive.”

My throat tightens painfully. My Korithax. My demon prince with the cruel tongue and a gentle heart.

“He never touched me again,” she continues, her tears glinting in the torchlight. “Now, he only makes me dress like this.” She looks down at her thin, revealing shift. “It’s humiliating, but at least it’s not…” She trails off, unable to finish.

“I… I’m sorry,” I say quietly, not knowing what else I could possibly say in this moment.

She steps closer, her large doe eyes staring straight into my soul. “I never got to thank him. And now I hear I never will be able to.” She sets the jug on the floor and fidgets with something in her hand.

When she holds it up, I nearly sob. A Key. Small, simple, and shining faintly in the dim light. “This is my way of showing my gratitude to him. I’m sorry I stood by while he hurt you. I wasn’t brave enough to fight him.”

Her lip quivers, but she pushes through it, leaning forwards to place the keys into the shackle lock. There’s a click, and the weight that’s held me prisoner for what feels like eternity, vanishes. My arms drop to my sides, aching and shaking, blood rushing back into my limbs like fire through ice.

The sound I make is half sob, half sigh. “Thank you,” I say softly, my voice breaking as I pull her into a hug despite the burn in my arms. She stiffens at first, then melts into it, her small frame trembling against mine. “This means the world that you’re risking yourself to help me.”

She nods once, pulling back just enough to point towards the door. “I brought you some clothes.” She smiles, her face almost radiant. “And your dagger, Your Majesty.”

She bows slightly and I can’t help but smile back at her, something soft and genuine breaking through the tension. “Thank you…” I prompt gently, letting the words hang as I wait for her to share her name.

“Selunea,” she says with a shy smile, eyes dripping towards the floor before flicking back up to me. “It means born of the moon, Your Majesty.”

“That’s beautiful. Thank you, Selunea,” I murmur, the name rolling pleasantly on my tongue. “But please, call me Daisy.”

She nods once, and rushes towards the door where a bundle of black fabric awaits on the floor. I follow as best I can, every step stiff and unsteady, my body protesting the sudden movement. My arms throb viciously, muscles screaming from being held overhead for so long. Pins and needles stab down to my fingertips, alternating with dull, heavy aches that make my hands tremble.

I dress as quickly as my sluggish limbs allow, dragging on loose black trousers that thankfully don’t cling to my aching body. The matching blouse slides over my head, but the fabric brushes my wrists and I hiss through my teeth, the soft material scraping across raw, tender flesh left behind by the shackles. Even the slightest touch feels like fire. I force my hands through the sleeves anyway, jaw clenched until it passes. The fur cloak is last. The moment it settles around my shoulders, warmth seeps into me like sinking into a hot bath.

My dagger waits where she left it. I swipe it up with trembling fingers and strap it to my thigh with careful precision, relief loosening something tight in my chest when the familiar weight settles against my leg.

I take a deep breath, the air thick with tension. I’m almost ready to face the world again, when her hand presses lightly against my chest.

“Wait, I also have this.” She pulls out a syringe from a small leather pouch hidden in the shadows at the door’s edge. My blood runs cold at the sight of the capped metal until she explains, “It’s an antidote to the power suppressant Kaelith gave you. It should work instantly.”

She goes to hand me the needle, but I shake my head, grimacing. “Can you do it? I hate needles.”

She lets out a soft laugh that sounds almost like wind chimes and nods once, popping off the cap. The antidote goes in with a slight sting, and I grit my teeth at the knowledge of a needle currently being in my arm. Ergh. I hate them so much.

“Done,” she says softly, as she pulls it out and the cap clicks back on.

Then I feel it. The hum of my flame. The pulse of my magic beneath my skin. Power floods through me, warm and alive, coiling like liquid sunlight in my veins. I shudder, closing my eyes as the heat rises in my chest. It feels amazing. No longer do I feel repulsed at the feeling of the flame’s magic beneath my skin. No, I feel alive. I feel powerful. I feel almost whole again. The immortality magic settles in too, my aches and pains already dulling, my wounds working at healing themselves instantly.

“Gods, I’ll never take my power for granted again,” I murmur with a soft sigh.

Selunea smiles faintly, her eyes glistening. “You shouldn’t.”

I take her hands, feeling the tremor in her fingers. “You’ve saved me. Now I’m going to save you. I’ll bring you home with me. You deserve safety. Peace. Happiness. You deserve all of that.”

Her lips part in shock, deep-black eyes shimmering like molten silver from her unshed tears. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t burden you like that, Daisy.”

“You wouldn’t be a burden,” I insist, squeezing her hands. “You’d be pulled into my chaotic family, as one of our own.”

A single tear slides down her cheek, catching the torchlight. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice breaking as her lower lip trembles.

I pull her into another hug and let myself enjoy the comfort for a moment. Then, I step back, resolve hardening in my chest. “Show me to Kaelith’s chambers,” I say with a voice that’s calm and steady. Because for the first time since he took me, I can feel it again. The fire. The fury. The crown. It’s time to show the world the kind of queen Korithax created.

Moving through the servant tunnels feels wrong in every way. It’s narrow, damp, and the air carries a tainted energy of all the souls who’ve walked through here before. Selunea glides ahead of me, like a living shadow, shoulders hunched against the chill. My heart’s pounding so loud it sounds like someone is walking the tunnels beside us. I should’ve gone for Maelkar first. I should have brought him with me. But going for him would mean more footprints, more time, more chances to be caught. If Kaelith realises I’ve been freed, and by one of his own servants, he’d slit both our throats without a second thought.

“This is it,” Selunea whispers, so soft I can barely hear her.