The smooth rounded halls of the Hive’s stone passages felt chilled as I kept pace behind Rickon, my heart hammering in my ears. I was sure Nathanial could hear it as his fingers were still tightly twined with mine. For once, his hand felt warmer than the surroundings, and I wasn’t sure if it was real… or just a byproduct of my sudden alienation.

               I had thought I was doing well in the Hive. Most of them seemed to like me, and I’d been learning how to control my power. Thanks to the crash course with Rickon, whose control was apparently unmatched, I could hold it in for at least a couple minutes before it started to leak through like sand between my fingers. Most of the members of the Council had come to at least grudgingly tolerate me, and the decision to allow me to join them at the table had been unanimous. What had happened?

               Shivering, I remembered the cold look of fury on Imogen’s face. She had happened. The other Council members had tried to defend me, and she’d threatened them into silence. Her unwavering determination that she knew the only way to survive reminded me of someone who had locked me in a silver cage because he was certain it was the only way to keep himself from killing me. I had a feeling they would both be wrong in the end. Because if Imogen thought locking me up like a prisoner of war would do her any good, she was sorely mistaken.

               The anger I had felt when I left the Council room began to bubble again as we approached a thick wooden door flanked by stern looking guards. I didn’t recognize either of them, but they knew us enough to bow- but their weapons still crossed in front of the door, keeping us from entering. “Apologies,” the woman on the right said, “But we’re under strict orders from-“

               “I have Imogen’s permission,” Rickon ground out between clenched teeth, his posture rigid and sparks dancing along his skin. It was as if he mirrored my anger, stepping forward and shoving the crossed spears down so their sharpened tips rebounded off the stone floor with a cascade of sparks.

               The woman’s pace paled, and she gestured for her partner to get out of the way; still bowing, they moved to allow us to enter. Rickon’s heavy footsteps were sharp against the stone floor, especially compared to Nathanial’s soundless padding next to me. I kept my gaze on the back of Rickon’s head- because otherwise I worried I’d close my eyes to black out the sight around me, and I didn’t want to prove the weakness Imogen worried about.

               I had never been to what served as a prison for the Hive, a web of tunnels lined with cells with silver bars which made my skin crawl. Nathanial pulled me closer, putting an arm around my face; when he gave me a worried look, I just shook my head, letting him know I was alright. Swallowing hard, I dared to find pale faces in the cells, and something in me quaked with anger.

               It was hard to believe those locked in the damp, mildewed cells could have deserved their treatment. Children and elderly beings alike were stuffed into cells they could hardly turn around in, some of them with burns from the silver bars marking their hands, arms, and faces; likely from their attempts to eat, as I saw plate and bowls resting outside some of the cells, some of them still full and tauntingly out of reach. I nudged one gently on my way past, and watched a young sylph’s dirty face light up, her misshapen wings giving a soft flutter against her back as she threw herself to the ground and reached for the food.

               My anger churned, sick and heavy in my stomach, as I forced myself to look away. What could she have done, to have her wings crippled and be locked under the earth to starve? Knowing Nathanial’s story so intimately, and having just witnessed how she treated the other members of the Council, I was afraid to know. Grimacing, I tried to hurry my pace, only to be held back abruptly by the steel vice of Nathanial’s grip on my hand.

               Turning, I found his face ashen, eyes blazing crimson red as he looked into an empty cell. It was larger than the other, though not by much, to accommodate a large stone coffin and a small altar with a blood crusted offering bowl and candles burned to wax nubs against a lacy black cloth. I stepped forward cautiously, trying to keep my scent in check despite the anger chewing away at my control, so I could put a hand against Nathanial’s cheek. Gently turning his face towards me, I searched his eyes, the depth of fear and despair there chilling me to my core.

               “I don’t want to go back there,” he said, tears gathering along his lashes.

               Momentarily confused, I glanced toward the crypt again, and battled the acid which burned up the back of my throat as I realized who that room was for. Nathanial had told me how they bewitched him, leaving him in stasis, not quite dead but not alive either. Imogen had called it ‘sleeping’, but Nathanial compared it to a prolonged fever dream. They’d buried him before, when the suffering nearly drove him insane. The tomb they had made for him didn’t seem much better. I couldn’t image how horrible it must have been, trapped in a stone box, unable to moved and living every agonizing second of it aware the only way you could be freed was with the blood of another.

               Grinding my teeth, I tried to focus on Nathanial instead of the horror of his cell. “I won’t let them take you,” I said softly, meeting his gaze, hoping he saw my determination in my eyes. “I don’t care if it’s the Council, or Imogen, or the Sun and Moon themselves- I won’t let anybody take you from me.”

               Nathanial closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, his hand covering mine on his face as he collected himself. I took his other hand in mine, lacing our fingers together and pulling him closer to share my heat. Trying to comfort him as my gaze found Rickon over his shoulder.

               He looked stricken, his gaze on Nathanial’s coffin as if he’d never seen it before. When he looked to me, I could see the horror on his face, a realization of the true agony Nathanial had suffered. Shaking his head, he turned away from me, but I could see it had shaken his faith in Imogen’s decisions. He’d known, but I hoped being faced with the reality of her cruelty would drive a wedge between them.

               Because I knew there was more to Rickon than he admitted to me, secrets he forced the Hive and the Council to hide. His position behind Imogen, the way Nathanial had looked to him when Imogen turned against the Council… he had power he hadn’t been willing to use. Something told me he was the key to all of this, to my freedom.

               It was up to me to find the door, to claim my freedom, and as the warmth of Nathanial’s tears dripped onto my hand, I knew I would do anything to end Imogen’s madness… even if I had to kill her myself.