There were fae in the corridor. A group of them, tall and clad in their silken robes. They were whispering as they moved.
But it was the soldier that made Kaela pause.
He stood apart from the others, his armor dark and a sword slung low at his hip. His right eye was clouded, blind but not useless. His black hair was tied back in a leather cord, and he had a scowl on his face.
He was unmistakable.
General Tharos.
She had seen him before, briefly, when they had called the humans to ask if they knew what was happening with Sera. Yvaine had told her more about him, telling her that he was a war hero, one who had slit throats and hardly smiled.
His one good eye turned on her like a knife unsheathed.
"What are you doing here?" he growled, voice like stone dragged over stone.
Kaela blinked. "I—Lady Nythera—"
"You think you can wander these halls as you please? A mere mortal? A mere human?!"
"I didn't mean to—"
"Silence." The word cracked through the air.
Before she could react, he raised a hand and struck her across the face.
The blow came like thunder, and Kaela's head snapped sideways, hair flying. Pain bloomed in her cheek. But she didn't fall.
She stumbled, caught herself, and straightened slowly.
Something in her snapped.
Her breathing quickened, but she wasn't afraid. Not anymore. She was done. She had had enough.
She turned her head and looked him squarely in the eye.
And slapped him back.
The sound echoed like a whip crack and there was a collective gasp behind her. She turned slightly and saw them, young fae, no older than twenty, standing behind a pillar, their faces stunned.
Tharos didn't move at first, as he was still reeling from the shock of being slapped by a human. But when he snapped out of it, he glared at Kaela.
"You will die for that," he said softly.
Kaela opened her mouth, her voice low and steady. "Then I die. I'm not sorry."
His fist came fast and hard.
It slammed into her stomach, and the world tilted. She crumpled to her knees, coughing, blood spilling from her mouth. She choked and wiped it away, dizzy from the pain.
He grabbed her by the hair and flung her. Her body skidded against the cold marble, her arm scraping, her ribs screaming in pain.
And still—still—she didn't cry.
"You filthy mortal," Tharos spat. "You dare raise a hand against a general of the Northern Courts? You dare?! You will be made an example."
Four humans came running down the hall, all dressed in servant robes, breathless and pale. They threw themselves at his feet, kneeling, their hands clasped.
"Please," one of them begged. "She doesn't know. She meant no harm."
"She's just a maid, she didn't mean it—"
"She's young, please, show mercy—"
But Tharos only laughed, low and cruel. "Mercy? She struck me. Let her be flogged at dawn, or better yet, let her be burned for the insolence."
Kaela gritted her teeth, her mouth full of copper and dust. Her head was spinning.
Tharos's grip on her hair tightened cruelly, yanking her back up to her knees as she winced, barely holding back a cry. His eyes, cold and burning, scanned her face like she was nothing more than filth beneath his boot.
"You want to act like a beast?" he hissed. "Then I'll treat you like one."
Kaela's heart hammered in her chest, her ribs aching with each breath. Her stomach throbbed where he had punched her, the taste of blood already thick in her mouth. She barely saw him raise his foot until it connected again, this time in her side.
A dull, wet sound echoed off the stone walls.
Pain flared sharp and white, and she curled into herself, gasping. A cry escaped her lips before she could bite it back. Her arms trembled, her body folding, but it didn't matter.
He wasn't finished.
"Get up," Tharos snarled.
When she didn't move fast enough, he grabbed her again, this time by the back of her dress, and dragged her like a ragdoll toward the corridor.
Gasps followed them, whispers spreading like wildfire. Fae lined the halls now, their glittering eyes wide and disbelieving as they watched a human girl being hauled like a sack of wheat by a Northern general. Some looked away. Others didn't blink at all.
The marble floor scraped against Kaela's skin as she stumbled behind him, her knees bloody, her vision swimming. He didn't care.
"You will learn your place," he said, venom in every word. "I'll see to it myself."
He yanked open a heavy iron door Kaela hadn't even noticed before and shoved her through it. Stone stairs spiraled downward, and the air was suddenly damp, heavy, and reeking of rot.
No.
Not here.
Dungeons.
Kaela tried to dig her heels into the ground, but she was weak, too weak. He kicked the back of her leg, and she tripped forward, falling hard onto the stairs, her elbows smacking cold stone.
She bit down a scream.
"Move!" Tharos bellowed, and Kaela crawled, because she didn't have the strength to walk.
Down, down, down.
The walls were moist, and somewhere deeper below, she could hear something scuttling. Chains rattled. Something groaned in the dark.
When they reached the bottom, Tharos grabbed her again, and hurled her through the bars of a tiny, foul-smelling cell. She slammed into the floor with a sickening thud.
A fresh wave of pain rolled through her body. Her head swam.
He stepped in after her.
Kaela tried to sit up, but he planted his boot on her back and pressed, forcing her flat to the ground.
"You think you're brave?" he spat, his voice low now, cruel. "You think you matter? You're just another spoiled pet, leashed by kindness until you bite. You'll be nothing by the time I'm done."
He leaned over and spat in her face.
Kaela froze. For a second, she couldn't breathe. Not from pain. But from the sheer, suffocating weight of humiliation.
His boot lifted. She lay still, her jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. Slowly, he turned and walked out of the cell, the bars slamming shut with a loud, echoing clang.