Dangerous spark
653 Words
Chapter 8: A Dangerous Spark
Freya sat in the darkened chamber Alaric had furnished for her after the battle. It wasn't a cell, but it wasn't freedom, either. The heavy wood door was locked at all times, and the single window was too far out of reach.
Her heart still raced from the fight in the courtyard. She had matched him—if only momentarily. That alone should frighten her.
But what haunted her more was the way Alaric had looked at her afterward. Not just with suspicion, but with something else. Something unreadable.
A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
Before she could respond, it swung open, and Zayden stepped inside, his smirk already in place.
"Impressive," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone make Alaric hesitate before."
Freya ignored him. "What do you want?"
Zayden chuckled. "No gratitude for bringing food to you?" He set down a package on the table—a plate of bread and dried meat. "You don't eat, you won't be any good in the next battle."
Her stomach clenched. "Next battle?"
He c****d his head to the side. "Did you really think tonight was the end of it? Alaric is hell-bent on finding out what you are. And I have to admit, so am I."
Freya crossed her arms. "I already told you—I don't know."
Zayden's smirk didn't waver, but something in his eyes sharpened. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just afraid of the truth."
She shivered down her spine.
"Why do you care?" she asked.
Zayden pushed off the doorframe and took a step forward. "Because if you're what I think you are… then you're either our greatest threat, or our greatest weapon."
Freya forced herself to maintain his gaze. "And which would you prefer?"
His smirk increased. "Haven't decided yet."
She had no opportunity to respond before another blocked the doorway.
Alaric.
His golden eyes flicked between them, his face icy. "Leave us, Zayden."
Zayden laughed low but obeyed, brushing past Alaric on the way out.
Alaric stepped in, shutting the door after him. The air grew thicker.
Freya didn't stir as he approached. Despite the confrontation a little while back, he looked as unperturbed as ever, but she could feel the tension in him.
"You weren't supposed to be able to do that," he finally said.
She exhaled slowly. "Neither were you."
A specter of a smirk played at his lips and disappeared just as fast.
He took another step closer, too close now. "Tell me, Freya. When did you first feel it?"
She paused. "Feel what?"
Alaric's eyes darkened. "The power."
The word sent a shiver through her.
She wanted to deny it. Pretend it didn't exist. But she had felt it—sparking in her veins, rising to his challenge.
"Was it always there?" he pressed.
"No." The truth fell from her lips before she could grasp it. "Not until I got here."
Alaric examined her for a long time, as though he was trying to pull answers from her very soul.
Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pendant again. The silver chain dangled between his fingers, the symbol glinting in the dim candlelight.
"You said this came from a bloodline that shouldn't exist," he breathed. "Why?"
Freya swallowed. "Because it was wiped out centuries ago."
Alaric's jaw clenched. "And yet here you are."
The air between them vibrated.
Freya's fists tightened. "I don't know what that means."
Alaric's hand closed around the pendant. "Then we'll find out."
A shiver settled in her chest.
He turned to leave but halted in the doorway. "Sleep while you can, Freya. Tomorrow, we begin."
Then, without a word, he was gone.
Freya sat silently, staring at the pendant on the table.
She had sought out this place in pursuit of answers.
But now, she wasn't sure she was ready for them.
- Writer
