When she woke, she found herself lying naked on her back. She was in a spotlessly clean, barren room with nothing in it but a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.
Rolling onto her side, she groaned at the pain in her neck. She reached up to find it swollen.
Had her neck been broken? Who had broken her neck? One name came to mind, and she burned with resentment.
She was unable to get up yet, rolling over had been the best she could do, so she curled her arms under her and remained still, letting her body repair the damage.
As time passed, she found herself listening to the sounds of the house, trying to figure out where in the compound she was being kept, but she could not place herself. She had to surmise that she was perhaps underground, that or the drow men had come up with a very effective means of blocking sound.
The sounds of boots came from somewhere nearby. Was that above her? She rolled onto her backside and pushed herself backwards until she was pressed against the wall. It took her longer than expected as her legs only wanted to work sometimes. She had to assume that whomever it had been was skilled in anatomy. He had caused severe damage without injuring her enough to fully kill her. For the first day, she would be entirely paralysed from the neck down.
The drow brothers entered the room. She huddled and watched them warily, her legs hugged to her chest. She had crossed them in order to protect her modesty. But someone had to have stripped her, so they had probably seen it all already.
They were both wearing white fabric headdresses over their heads. They covered their faces and hair, which left her unable to tell them apart. She was surprised at just how similar the two were in body shape and size. She assumed the masks were to both hide their identity and keep their mouths protected from her.
"Glad to see you're awake, princess," one of the brothers said. She could not gauge which one had spoken, though it sounded like Izziah.
"You know, you can only keep me here so long," she replied with false bravado.
"Not necessarily. We can keep you here just as long as we desire. The lich is keeping his distance for now." That was Drizdan.
She frowned, trying to work out which of the men before her had spoken.
The one on the right turned and locked the door behind him, the left one started towards her.
"What exactly are they planning to do?" she asked, warily. She tried to decide if keeping her modesty, or allowing them to touch her was the better option. She was torn.
Neither replied, and she watched calmly as the man approached her. He came to a stop a few feet from her. He was just inside kicking range.
She looked up at the anonymous head, and raised an eyebrow in wonder at how he could see through that thing.
"Do you really think Epharis is going to let you keep me here long term?" she asked, turning her attention to the second man as he approached.
"Probably not, but we have time to play." That was definitely Drizdan, and it was definitely coming from the man on the right.
Letting out a slow exhale of frustration at her situation, she drove her heel into Izziah's knee. The bone crunched, and she threw herself sideways to avoid any retaliation.
Izziah's screams covered the curse Drizdan had made as he went after her, only to find her sprinting for the door.
He barrelled after her, but she reached it first and grabbed the handle. She screamed in pain and jerked back, lifting her hand to see raw red skin. She hadn't been expecting the handle to be made of iron, and that instant of hesitation cost her.
The man slammed into her from behind and pinned her in place. His breath was heavy in her ear as he grabbed her hand and forced it down. Pressing her wrist against the door handle, she heard him laugh through her screams and the sound of sizzling skin.
"So, you do have a weakness..." he purred and jerked her back from the door, tucking his foot under hers and tripping her. She landed hard, face down and he landed on top of her, driving his knee into her lower back.
Izziah was up again, hobbling over to the two as she attempted to get her breath back and wriggle out from under him.
Her spine was working only barely, and he had just driven his knee into it. She had lost feeling in her legs for a good three seconds, but finally, the feeling had returned.
"Iron. She can't stand iron," Drizdan said, reaching down to grasp her unbound hair. He used it to hold her head down, even as she attempted to lift herself up off the ground though her arms were shaking.
"Right..." Izziah said and left the room.
***
"Struggle all you want princess; it's just getting me more worked up. Just as soon as Izziah is gone, we'll get to have that fun," he crooned above her, deliberately grinding his knee down into her back.
Grunting in pain, she went still, panting softly and trying to figure out what to do now.
"Aww, don't submit now. I like it when my women struggle."
Ignoring him, she considered the room around her, but there was nothing she could use to defend herself.
Returning after only a few moments, Izziah came in. Drizdan gave a snort of disgust.
"Such a gentleman," he sneered, gripping tighter on Etani's hair and forcing her head up. "See, princess? He's going to look after you even after you tried twice to kill him..."
Letting go of her hair before she could make any sense of the situation, he reached under her and grabbed first one wrist, then the other.
She expected to feel the bite of iron, but instead, she felt fabric.
Sliding the sleeve of something onto her arms, he lifted it up over her shoulders and tucked it down over her back to where Drizdan was still leaning on her.
Hearing the sound of metal, her stomach dropped, and she clenched her jaw. She must not scream.
But it was so hard when the sizzling started. Closing the cuff around her wrists, Drizdan got off her, moving away as Izziah took a moment to tug the fabric down to rest midway down her thighs.
Grabbing her arm, he lifted her up enough to pull the robe around her. He tied it off around her waist.
"I'm sorry, but we can't let you loose to come after me again," he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her face.
"Go jump off a cliff," she hissed back, struggling to her feet.
A steady stream of smoke was coming from her wrists, the sizzling sound loud in the silence that followed. So much iron in so little time, she did not know how she had managed to survive this long.
Turning away from them, she headed deeper into the room, settling herself with her back against the wall to ensure she could see them at all times.
The two men left soon after that, locking the door and leaving her there alone once more.
She knew she would not be able to kick the door down, but perhaps she could get the door open?
Grabbing the hem of her robe, she tucked it carefully into the gap between the shackles and her blackened skin, sighing at the relief it brought. No, it would not stop it completely, but the lack of direct contact eased her suffering.
***
She had no idea how much time had passed before they came down again; this time it was only Izziah.
"I have come to take you up for a bath. If you fight, I will drug you and leave you down here," he said in a matter of fact tone, lifting a large syringe out of the pocket of his pants to show her, then tucking it away again.
'Well, thank you for showing me where it is…' she thought dryly, allowing him to help her to her feet.
She felt dirty, having remained in that room for an unmeasurable amount of time. She had been correct about it being a cellar. He led her up into the brightness of day.
Squinting, she saw the garden was overgrown but beautiful, filled with exotic plants, trees, and flowers.
She turned to look in the direction of the castle, wishing without end that Epharis was about to swoop in and pull her out. For one fleeting moment, she had been sure she saw something, but she could not tell what it was. It was too far away.
They passed through the Courtyard and into the side of the compound that housed Izziah's room. He did not pause, instead, he led her into one of the offshoot rooms—into what had to be the most lavish bathroom she had ever seen.
Everything was white and black marble with gold fixtures. A huge chandelier hung above them and she pondered how it was possible that something like that was able to fit in the room. She had barely needed a leg up in order to get onto the ceiling of the building, yet that chandelier was easily seven feet.
"It is spelled to look bigger on the inside than the outside. Fae aren't the only ones with magic." Izziah said when she had stopped to look up at it.
He gave her a warning look as he removed one of the cuffs, tugging the robe off her shoulders and allowing it to hang loose around her waist. Then he returned the cuff to her blackened wrist. He did not so much as look at her nudity, and she was grateful for that if for nothing else. He was even kind enough to cuff her hands before her rather than behind.
Able to undo the sash of the robe, she moved away from him to the bath that was issuing little jumping balls of steam, yet the room itself was clear of steam.
Shaking her head at the oddity of drow, she climbed into the sunken bath to find it perfectly deep. She could sit with just the tips of her shoulders above water. Groaning aloud at the heat, she set to work cleaning herself as briskly and thoroughly as she could, her hair giving her some trouble, before she simply basked in the deliciousness of the bath.
"I wanted to bring you here sooner, but Driz said you were still too dangerous. He wants to wait until you are weaker," Izziah said, sitting nearby and handing her liquids as she pointed them out to him.
"Your brother is a clever man," she said, unable to deny it was a brilliant plan. The cuffs would speed up the process now, meaning it would only be a matter of time before defending herself was out of the question. "What exactly do you plan to do with me?" She handed him back a bottle after sniffing it, and he picked one out himself and offered it to her.
"He believes that we can use you as a means of buying our way back into The Underneath. Our mother would accept us back without question if she could get her hands on a fae, let alone one of the princesses. You can buy us back into her favour."
Looking to him as she opened the bottle, she frowned as she considered that. Drow worked on a matriarchal system just like the courts. They had female rulers, and the women ruled the household. It meant that the men were quite submissive and would do anything asked of them. Having the displeasure of their mother must have been agony for him.
"That's quite a plan, really, I'm sure your queen would be ecstatic to get her hands on a Winter Court Princess." She sniffed the bottle and lifted a brow, turning the bottle to try to read.
"It's a skin oil," he said when she frowned at the language.
Making a sound of pleasure, she began to apply it liberally. The warm smell of pine and jasmine filled the room.
"Mother would be very happy." He accepted the bottle back and returned it to the shelf, watching her face as she enjoyed the bath.
"I never thought of what it must be like to have a mother like that. My mother was considered one of the most beautiful, kind, and brilliant to have ever been born. Then there was the fae thing, and everything went downhill from there. If I was even half as brilliant as her, I would have been happy."
Pulling the plug out from somewhere around her feet, she stood and accepted the towel he offered her, wrapping it around herself.
Stepping out of the bath, she crossed to the mirror and picked out a comb, watching her hair as she brushed it out. It had become tangled, but not unmanageable.
"You don't seem to be too angry at what we plan to do with you." He sounded perplexed.
She found him in the mirror, watching her hands as they moved.
"If I were in your situation, I might have done the same," she said after a moment. The comb moved freely through her hair now.
"You are too forgiving," he said, standing to approach her. "You should be angry; you should hate us."
Turning to face him, she rested her backside against the counter and pulled her hair over her shoulder to braid it with skilled fingers.
"We all do what we must, to survive. For you, survival is The Underneath." She dropped her eyes to see what she was doing and paused when his hand reached out, taking the thick stands from her and turning her so he could braid it himself.
"For my brother it is, but not for me." His breath was cool on her shoulder and suddenly she was forced to recall the moment their lips had touched in the meadow.
He had been thinking of it, too, for as he finished the braid, his hand had lifted to brush over her shoulder. The touch made her shiver, and she was left wondering about the reaction.
The door burst open and Drizdan stalked into the room, his eyes nearly alight with fury.
"Get her back in the cellar, Izziah. She is still dangerous!" Reaching forward, he grabbed the chain that linked her hands and jerked her from the room. Nearly having to run to keep up with his furious pace, she followed him back out into the night and again glanced towards the castle. She did not see whatever it was she had seen that first instant, and she wondered if it had been an illusion.
Drizdan thrust her into the room. She spun to see him as he threw in the robe that Izziah handed him. She would not be able to put it on with her hands bound, but she did not think he really cared.
He slammed the door and locked it, and the two men left.
***
Left to wonder at the events of the bath, she settled herself down in her normal spot to the back of the room. It was only a matter of hours when the door opened and Izziah walked in.
"I am being sent as a scout to our people, we are going to be taking you to them in a few weeks if we can arrange a meeting with mother," he said, excitement in his tone. He crossed to her and undid one of the cuffs to help her into a new robe he had brought with him, taking the one she had wrapped around herself.
Returning the cuff to her wrist, he paused and traced a slow finger around the outside of her burnt skin.
"I am sorry for this, but Drizdan wants to drain your strength as fast as possible. It was this or his repeatedly breaking your neck."
"I have to say, this is a better alternative," she replied, already feeling the effects of the iron draining her.
"I must go, he is waiting. But I will be back in a few days." He gave her a hopeful look and hurried from the room again, leaving her to wonder at his excitement.
It was the next day when Drizdan came down into her room with the promise of a bath. She could go willingly, or he would drag her.
She opted to go willingly and stood on shaky legs to follow him out of the room and back upstairs.
This time he took her to his room and his was the opposite of Izziah's.
While Izziah's had been rich and warm, Drizdan's choice of style was all silvers and greens. While it was not as filled with life, she had to admit she liked it.
The bathroom was less ostentatious as well, the walls and floor made of a dark grey marble and the counter made of granite. The fixtures were a dark silvery metal she didn't recognise. It was not iron, but it looked similar.
Drizdan approached her, and he removed the cuff long enough to help her out of the robe. Unlike Izziah, Drizdan had no issue looking her over as she undressed and climbed into the bath after he had cuffed her again.
There was no denying the bath was wonderful, somewhat shallower than Izziah's, but no less pleasant. Her knees appeared above the water if she bent them, but it was long enough for her to sit with them stretched out.
Drizdan picked what she used to clean herself, yet she was not displeased at his choices.
"Did he tell you what we are doing?" he asked after she had taken the time to thoroughly clean herself.
Accepting the bottle of hair oil, she rubbed it into the long strands, letting the bulk of her hair sit on the side of the bath to absorb the oil.
"He did. I did not expect your plan to be so clever," she said, tilting her head back to enjoy the bath.
"Why not?" he asked, seemingly offended.
"Do not get me wrong, I do not think you are unintelligent. Only that it was so simplistic and yet entirely genius. There was so little room for mistakes and, had you not managed to capture me, the plan could still have been used at a later time. Were you the one the snapped my neck?"
Staring up at the ceiling, she found that it had nothing at all. The candles that lit the room were lined around the walls to give the room an intensity she found appealing.
"I was. I need my brother; I could not let you kill him." Toying with the bottle of oil, he watched her without embarrassment.
"Need him for what?"
"He is mother's favourite. If I did not have him, she would never accept me back, even if I had a queen as my prisoner. With him and you, I can get back." He did not sound ashamed at his plan, only irritated that he was not the favourite of his mother.
Turning so that she could rest her chin on the edge of the bath, she looked at the man as he sat cross-legged on the floor. His feet were bare, and she had not noticed. It was such an odd thought to have, but the fact stuck in her brain.
"I suppose that is a valid reason to keep him safe. I assume that is why you sent him instead of going yourself?"