Chapter 219. Kisten
Bastian snarled in her face, but she had already moved on, stopping in front of Ryder. An appreciative sound slipped out of her and Ryder cringed when she ran a hand down his chest, poking at his wounds with her nails. "You have done such beautiful work, warden."
When she finally reached Kisten, she stepped in close, and without warning, she caught his chin in her hand and forced his head up.
Their mother warned them about the Queen’s thrall, but nothing could’ve prepared him for it.
The ruby in the crown pulsed in tandem with the Queen’s eyes flashing black, and he felt her invade his mind. She tore through his mental walls like paper, dredging up his most private thoughts, memories, secrets without mercy.
For the first time, Kisten understood what exactly Maisie had felt in the woods that night when he had pushed her into the grass and tried to mount her because he thought he was entitled to her.
The violation. The helplessness. The rage of having something stolen without consent. The knowledge settled in his gut like poison and he made a note to himself that if they got out of here alive, he would spend his life making up for that.
He fought against her anyway, and could hear Bastian roaring in the background.
There was only one thing Kisten managed to shove down deep enough to protect. He didn’t understand it himself. It was his Lycan doing it.
A face. Irritating red hair. A mouth that cursed like a sailor. Fierce eyes that he hated because it stood against everything he’d ever known. A single memory. A reckless, stupid kiss that had started as a taunt between tutoring and assignments, and ended up being... something.
He had never told his brothers. And now, he knew for sure he was taking it to his grave.
The Queen’s presence lingered, turning through memory after memory, searching, and she drew to the surface the night of the banquet and his conversation with his mother. Her plans. Her eyes widened by a fraction, and her nostrils flared.
Then she dug deeper, searching for leverage, anything she could use against them, and Kisten silently hoped their people were hidden and safe. Those she hadn’t already executed for treason.
At last, the Queen withdrew, and Kisten sagged in the chains, breathing hard.
"You truly do not know where she is," she noted and folded her arms behind her. "Still, I shall be merciful. I do not believe the sins of the parents should be visited upon the children–"
Ryder let out a wet, bloody scoff. "Lying bitch."
The Queen’s expression didn’t change. She reached out, took the poker from the warden’s hand and studied the glowing tip for a brief second.
Then she swung it across Ryder’s face without warning.
Ryder’s head snapped sideways and his body collapsed against the chains before crumpling to the floor, blood pouring from the split in his face.
"You should know," the Queen regarded the poker almost thoughtfully. "I don’t hit people. Not because I lack the time for it, but because I like it too much. Once I begin, I rarely stop."
Bastian and Kisten watched with horror as she brought the poker down again.
The second blow caught Ryder across the shoulder, the third across his ribs. Each impact landed with a wet, heavy sound. Ryder’s body jerked under the strikes, a broken groan tearing from his throat as more blood spilled onto the stone. He no longer tried to lift his head.
"Stop," Bastian rasped.
The Queen did not look at him. She raised the poker once more.
"Stop—"
"Enough!" Kisten snarled, voice cracking.
Only then did she pause. Breathing evenly, as if she had merely been exercising the use of her hands, she lowered the poker and regarded Ryder’s torn up form at her feet.
"You three seem to be under a rather serious misunderstanding," she said. "You were sentenced the moment you were dragged into this prison. In the eyes of the Council and the people, you are already dead. Rebels. Traitors. Collaborators in an attack that cost lives. No one outside these walls will ask questions if your bodies are never found. No one will care about the extent of your involvement."
She stepped over Ryder’s legs and faced Kisten again.
"But I can be benevolent."
She tilted her head. "Swear yourself to me, Kisten Hunt, and I will let your brothers walk out of here alive."
"No," Ryder rasped behind her. "Don’t you fucking do it."
Bastian snarled the same thing and I flashed her a grin. "You must not have heard about us. We are loyal to our own. Death doesn’t scare us."
The Queen nodded once, as if their answers were exactly what she had expected. "I imagine you must be worried about your sister. Kara, was it?"
We all froze.
"I have been watching all of you, in the same way I keep eyes on all of my people," she said. "You’re alive only because I allow it. The Ridge you call home still exists only because it amuses me. Your attack happened only because I allowed it. Your application into Greymoor was accepted because I vetted it myself. I have spies in your ranks. In your homes. Amongst the whores you sleep with. Your cooks. Your maids. Your guards. Your teachers. The unassuming wolf you walk past on the street.
"There is not a single thing you do that I am unaware of," Her eyes glittered. "So, you must imagine how easy it was to have the girl taken from her bed in your stone castle by her very own personal maid. Not to worry. I haven’t hurt her. Yet."
Ryder jerked forward. "If you touch her–"
"I’ll do it," Kisten said.
He wasn’t very good with politics, but he knew they had no power in this situation. And even if they had sworn to be loyal to their own, Kara was one of their own.
Something cold and satisfied settled in the Queen’s expression. She gestured lightly, and the warden stepped back.
"Good," she nodded. "I thought you might see reason. Your first task is simple. My people have been unable to locate her. You, however, have every reason to succeed where they failed."
Her eyes locked onto his.
"Bring Maisie Adams, the traitor, to me."