The Girl in the Iron Mask

My mind is still confused between my desire to please my owner, and my own lingering sense of wrongness. My treatment at the hands of Cairn have systematically degraded and humiliated me to the stage that I no longer refuse any act which is demanded of me. Cairn takes particular delight in trying to make me sink lower into the depths of depravity. Apart from my refusal to beg for mercy under his whip, I generally comply with his disgusting demands.

My biggest fear isn't for myself. It's for Rowan. I love Rowan, as I know he loves me. I desperately want him to be safe. Which means he needs to keep far away from Doranelle. Unfortunately the more I think about Maeve's actions, the more I realise that she's luring Rowan to Doranelle. No self respecting Fae male can stand idly aside while his mate is abused in the way Maeve is treating me. And word of my plight will undoubtedly have reached Rowan's ear. When Rowan does come, Maeve will put me on display like some marionette; to perform tricks to her command. Rowan will undoubtedly respond violently, just as I would if our situations were reversed. Doing so will undoubtedly break whatever terms have been agreed for his safe passage, and expose him to being placed in Maeve's thrall once again. As strong and powerful as Rowan may be, his magic is no match for what Maeve has at her command.

I lose count of the days and weeks since my surrender. Eight weeks at least, possibly as many as ten. For the sake of relieving my boredom, I experiment with my wildfire when I'm locked inside my box. Before long I realise that I can do a lot more with my wildfire than create huge blasts of flame and destruction. My earlier trick with the unlit torch is only a sample of the more delicate uses of wildfire which I practice to relieve my boredom. I'm immune to the heat and flames created by wildfire, but I need to be careful of the consequences of its effect on other things. I can make pretty patterns of different coloured wildfire along the links of my chains, but accidentally welding the links together would cause me problems. A more practical use of wildfire provides me with light at night if I start to feel claustrophobic. Fortunately that's very rare, but my mind is always active despite my predicament. Occasionally my line of thought triggers unusual feelings and emotions.

Nisa never again tries the magic linking she and Maeve call swaying. I realise now that it's a magic talent only a few Fae possess. Nisa used swaying to influence my beliefs, and I tried to reciprocate, even if I didn't fully realise what I was doing. Later she modified that influence, but she wasn't able to remove it entirely. Can I complete the task on my own? I try, but wildfire on its own isn't sufficient, and my power is still too weak to create the missing magic. I need to be able to draw on Nisa's or another Fae's power to assist me. Nevertheless I feel better for the effort. My thoughts seem to come into sharper focus as though I've untangled a rope ... or tidied a pile of books. But I have no doubt that some of Maeve's values and beliefs are still etched into my mind. Unfortunately I've no means of identifying which ones they are.

My improved state of mind doesn't make my physical situation any better. Cairn is still as obnoxious and brutal as ever. My body responds the way it does because of the physical rather than the magical abuse I endure. I'm in no position to protect myself. I'm not foolish enough to attempt to blindly use my wildfire in the presence of so many magic wielders.

During the third month of my captivity the inevitable happens. Rowan arrives in Doranelle. He doesn't bother trying to sneak into the city. He would have been foolish to try in any case. Maeve would soon discover any attempt at subterfuge. As I anticipated Maeve readily grants Rowan an audience. I'm kept in the next room, locked in my iron box, for the whole meeting. Afterwards, he's allowed to talk with me through the air holes in the lid to my box. His meeting with Maeve has been unsuccessful. No surprise there. Surely he knew before he came here that any prospect of him freeing me through negotiation or ransom was a false hope. He can offer me no words of reassurance, and he refuses my pleas for him to leave Doranelle while he can. I know what he will try to do next. Unfortunately Maeve undoubtedly knows as well and she'll be ready.

I'm kept in my box the whole day. Once again food arrives through the hatch in the box. Golden nectar arrives through the air holes. I eat the food and drink the foul tasting liquid. I do my best not to soil my box, but I'm confined for so long that I can't help it.

Rowan is standing next to Nisa and Maeve when my box is opened the next day. I've no means of disguising the smell or the evidence of my bodily waste. Maeve has undoubtedly planned this exhibition so as to goad Rowan into a violent response. One which will end badly for him. Fortunately my calm demeanour stays Rowan's hand. I'm too accustomed to this sort of treatment to feel any embarrassment or humiliation. Nisa detaches the ankle chains holding me in place. I wait patiently until I'm ordered to get out of the box.

"Filthy, disgusting slave," sneers Maeve when she sees the state of my box. "Clean it up at once. Nisa; fetch Cairn so that he can administer the correct punishment."

"Wait," calls Rowan. "I came here in good faith to plead for my wife's freedom. You will treat her with respect while we negotiate the terms for her release."

"I will treat her exactly as I want to treat her, Prince Rowan," snaps Maeve. "She surrendered herself to me on the shores of Eyllwe. She's my slave and will be until her dying breath. Our so-called negotiations ended yesterday. You may say goodbye to my slave ... once she's received her punishment for soiling her box. Then you will depart Doranelle or suffer the consequences."

I obey Maeve's command and go to the side chamber to fetch what I need to clean my box. I don't see what happens next but when I return I see Rowan being restrained by two of Maeve's guards. Four more guards are standing ready by the door. Rowan is spoiling for a fight, but against such odds he'll never win. I clean my box under the stare of all these eyes. By the time I have finished, Nisa and Cairn have returned. Cairn is practically drooling at the prospect of laying his lash over my back. He missed out yesterday because I was confined to my box all day.

"Slave; stand on the plinth facing your cage," orders Maeve. "Spread your legs and hold the bars. Forty lashes, Cairn. You may begin when you are ready."

I can only guess that Maeve has ordered me into this position to provide Rowan with a better view. She wants him to witness my already raw back being reduced to a bloody mess. It certainly isn't my normal position to receive punishment. It inconveniences Cairn, since he must stand on the edge of the plinth to line up for his stroke. One false step and he'll stumble off the plinth. But Maeve is more concerned about the spectacle she has deliberately engineered for the purpose of humiliating Rowan. Humiliating me is so commonplace now that I sense she is already bored at the sight. Only Cairn seems to find my repeated humiliation as a constant source of delight.

Cairn lays his first stroke across my back. In terms of the pain generated and the damage done, it's a long way short of what he is capable of delivering. His tricky position on the edge of the plinth is causing him problems.

"One," I call.

Although I resisted counting the strokes on the beach in Eyllwe, I no longer bother with such a small token of resistance. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The strokes land in succession and I call out the number. I can't see Rowan, so I can only imagine his mounting rage. Forty strokes is a lot, and to be honest I've never gone above twenty two without faltering in my count. I feel the blood trickling down my back and over my buttocks. I just hope Nisa will be allowed to seal my lacerations afterwards.

The seventh stroke doesn't arrive when I expect it. The pain in my back is already enough to test my resolve. It takes me a few moments to realise that Maeve has paused the proceedings and is walking towards me with the dreaded spray that will reduce me into wanton debauchery. Rowan must realise the purpose of the spray and tries to break free of the two guards restraining him.

"Use that spray and I'll kill you, Maeve," warns Rowan with far more bravado than common sense.

Maeve just laughs and promptly sprays an extra large quantity into my face. In a few minutes I'll be helpless, and start performing the most lewd acts in front of my audience despite Cairn's lash. As if to assist me in my debasement, Cairn steps forward and runs the handle of his whip between my legs. I can't resist humping the evil instrument. My juices flow over the handle as my orgasm explodes. I know that I've been the unwilling instrument in Rowan's downfall. Rowan reacts violently and struggles against the guards holding him. Somehow he breaks free of their grasp and weapons are drawn. Through the haze of my highly aroused mind I realise that I must act now.

Wildfire erupts around me. The wooden plinth is a ready source of fuel which promptly ignites. Both Maeve and Cairn are surrounded by my fire. Cairn quickly jumps off the plinth but his clothes are already on fire. The guards ignore Rowan and rush to protect Maeve. Their actions are both unnecessary and a mistake. Maeve is the only person in the room capable of putting up any form of defence against my wildfire. The guards' reaction means that Rowan is left unattended. Sword in hand, he promptly advances on Cairn as he writhes in flames on the floor.

I move my attention to Maeve. Her instincts for self preservation are good. She throws up a magical barrier the second she detects the presence of my wildfire. But wildfire isn't regular magic. Maeve's magical defence isn't as effective as she might have expected. The flames may not be able to reach her but the heat certainly can. She staggers under the rising temperature. Finally she concedes ground and retreats out of the annex and into her throne room. Her guards stumble back as my wildfire reaches towards them. I've no wish to kill them, but I don't want them interfering in my battle with Maeve. They seem to understand my intent, and for the moment seem happy to remain as bystanders.

Maeve cast spell after spell towards me. I deflect each one in turn. My wildfire creates an almost impenetrable magic barrier, and what little gets through is absorbed by my iron shackles and mask. The very thing which prevents me from using my regular magic is also weakening Maeve's magic being used against me. Maeve and I soon reach a stalemate. Neither of us is able to defeat the other with magic alone and a physical battle is impossible until one of us exhausts her magic.

Cairn lies dead on the floor. Whether his death has been caused by my wildfire or Rowan's blade is of little importance. Rowan, Nisa and Maeve's guards stand in awe around the perimeter of the room. I don't doubt that at least one of the guards will have the intelligence to summon reinforcements. Sure enough more soldiers and some spectators soon arrive.

Maeve and I stand looking at each other. I've dampened my wildfire for the moment. I've plenty still in reserve, but there's no point is wasting it. I sense that Maeve is trying to quickly recharge her magic. She must have hurled enormous amounts of magical power at me, and she's clearly worried that it proved ineffective.

"A truce, Aelin," says Maeve, calling me by my name for the first time in months. She's definitely worried about what has occurred. Perhaps she's finally conceding that she can't overcome my resistance.

"Truce," I reply, recognising that I'm equally powerless to force a victory. My fetters would make a physical battle a very one-sided affair. Time is on Maeve's side, so I must find another way to resolve this impasse. "What do you propose we do now?"

"None of your trickery, Maeve," warns Rowan.

"I suggest we let the people of Doranelle decide between us," replies Maeve, not responding to Rowan's warning. "We allow them to either declare you to be my slave, or to set you free. Do you agree to be bound by their decision?"

"It's a trap," snaps Rowan.

Of course it's a trap. But for once, a predictable one. Maeve has tampered with the minds of many of the Fae and she expects a clear decision in her favour. By using wildfire I have the means to weaken that influence, but will it be enough? I cannot see that I have an alternative if Rowan is going to leave here alive.

"I agree," I reply. "Summon your people and let them decide."

Rowan looks at me in disbelief. Even Nisa seems alarmed at my decision. Maeve can hardly believe her luck and she wastes no time in issuing the necessary orders. Nisa rushes to my side to heal my bleeding back. Rowan wants to come to me as well, but I signal for him to wait. I don't want him to look too closely at me and see how uncontrollably aroused I still am from the influence of Maeve's spray. Strangely my heightened state of sexual longing helped me during my duel with Maeve. It meant that raw instinct replaced considered thought as we fought, and ultimately it was instinct which protected me from Maeve's magical assault.

I'm taking a huge risk and Maeve is far from defeated. She demands that I attend the gathering weighed down with all my iron chains and fetters. Rowan starts to protest, but I tell him to save his energy for battles which can be won. Two hours later I stand next to Maeve in front of hundreds of Fae. Despite her setback earlier, Maeve senses her ultimate triumph is close at hand.

Chapter 8: A Life of Slavery or Freedom?

Maeve addresses her subjects at length. She explains her justification for my enslavement in detail. Great emphasis is placed on the terms of my surrender to her on the shores of Eyllwe. To hear her talk, my humiliation and enslavement is not only lawful and just, but has been preordained by some unnamed deity. She goes on and on. Which suits me fine. My future isn't going to depend on words. It's going to depend on the subtle use of my wildfire.

Finally she allows me my turn to speak. I try my best to speak loudly through the constraints of the iron mask. Although the mask permits me to open my mouth, it restricts my ability to open it wide enough to talk loudly. Many of the audience will have difficulty hearing my words. Rowan requests that Maeve remove my mask, but she steadfastly refuses. Maeve insists that I am her slave until such time that I'm granted my freedom. If Maeve has her way, then that will be never. Her aggressive posture towards the gathering suggests any Fae who votes in my favour is likely to meet with an early and painful end. Some people mistakenly think Fae are immortal, but that isn't the case. While Fae can measure their natural lifetimes in centuries while humans measure theirs in decades, both races are mortal.

I complete my speech. It's not the most inspiring speech I've ever made, but I'm not trying to rule these Fae. All I simply want them to do is understand the truth and decide what is right. They listen and then they vote.

The result is soon apparent. Maeve looks at her audience in disbelief. The majority of the Fae present have voted for my release. The outcome of the vote is going to be the least of Maeve's problems, although I doubt she realises it just yet. I've used tiny bits of my wildfire to weaken Maeve's imposed beliefs on the Fae present. Their thoughts are their own for the first time in decades, and their attitude towards Maeve is far from friendly. When she made her speech, Maeve was assuming she was simply reinforcing their loyalty. Instead, her speech only strengthened her subjects' new found determination to resist her. Unfortunately, my victory over Maeve will only be temporary. In time she will be able to regain her mental hold over all her subjects. But it will take time, and for now only Maeve and her closest acolytes remain a barrier to my freedom. A small but nonetheless formidable barrier.

"Release my wife from her chains," demands Rowan of Maeve.

Maeve is still trying to work out what when wrong with such a simple plan. To her credit she recovers quickly. Her loyal retainers gather around her. These Fae need no imposed thoughts to remain loyal to their queen. Each has sworn a blood oath to Maeve. They will happily die if necessary in order to defend her from any enemy.

"I did not agree to be bound by the advice of my subjects," snarls Maeve. "A Fae queen rules by divine authority. The opinion of her subjects is of no consequence."

"Release Aelin, and we shall allow you to remain ruler here in Doranelle," says Rowan. "Our only condition is that you send your army to add to those who are already fighting against Erawan."

"You forget your place, Prince Rowan," snaps Maeve, obviously confident that she can still win despite all her setbacks today.

She launches a magical attack directed at Rowan. He responds quickly before any real damage is done. But Maeve's superior power will eventually break through his defences. The iron encasing me prevents me from using my own magical power ... except wildfire. Maeve knows I won't stand idly by while Rowan is in peril. But I hold back my attack for a moment, and think. For some reason Maeve is trying to trick me into using the might of my wildfire in the presence of all her subjects. Would the sight of such awesome power intimidate her subjects into rallying behind their queen? Possibly. They wouldn't willingly swap one all-powerful queen for another.

Again my night time practising inside my iron box pays dividends. I call on my wildfire as Maeve intends that I should, but not as an enormous blast of flame. Instead I create multi-coloured wisps of flame which flit about around Maeve's face. Beautiful lights which are relatively harmless. Each flame last for only a few seconds before being replaced by another one of a different colour and intensity. The effect confuses Maeve into miscasting her magic. Rowan takes advantage of Maeve's preoccupation and moves from defence to attack.

Maeve's guards move to intervene, but a wave of heat from an invisible blast of my wildfire forces them to retreat. One of the guards realises that his queen is having more difficulty than she can confidently manage, and he steps forward to go to her aid. He pays for his brave but foolish act with severe burns to his body. He collapses onto the floor and one of his colleagues drags him clear.

"Surrender, Maeve," demands Rowan. "Surrender and retain your crown."

Maeve has become desperate. Against Rowan or I alone she could prevail, but not against both of us together. She must now realise that my control of wildfire is far more extensive than she thought possible. Too late she realises that my iron fetters don't hinder my wildfire. She misunderstood the true nature of wildfire. Even I have only started to appreciate the complexities of its power. It's far more than a blunt weapon of mass destruction. Both Maeve and I had initially made that false assumption. It's fortunate for me that I was the first to realise our mutual mistake.

"Very well, Prince Rowan," snarls Maeve. "I shall concede today's battle to you. I surrender on condition that you honour my position as the rightful queen of the Fae."

"Agreed. You are queen of Doranelle," says Rowan. "Aelin is the rightful queen of those Fae living in Terrasen."

Maeve still tries her trickery as Rowan and she negotiate the terms of peace. But Rowan is equal to the task. My freedom is a prerequisite, and Maeve reluctantly releases me from the terms of my surrender in Eyllwe. She orders Nisa to free me from my bondage. Nisa takes me back to the annex and proceeds to unlock my chains. It takes a while. The magical battle has made the locks stiff and Nisa spends most of the time with tears streaming down her face, clouding her vision. I want to ask her what is wrong, but I'm so keen to be free of these chains once more, that I don't want to do anything to interrupt her painfully slow progress.