Lanternblade

 Parias looked around, checking over his shoulder as he entered the three-story townhome squeezed into a line along the cobblestone roads of Calabraizer.

“I didn’t expect you to bring a rather oversized pigeon back with you.” Thandon stood to the side of the door, watching Parias jump slightly, his motion hampered by the weight in his arms. Closing the door behind him, Thandon glanced at the girl, wings draping towards the floor. Wings are new.

Legends and stories were birthed in the dark forests that encircled Calabraizer and there is where the creatures in those stories supposedly remained. Each cobblestoned street ended with carved stone arches, standing as a strict line between the town and what lay beyond.

Parias began carrying the girl towards the stairs, his feet barely lifting as he moved. “Are you planning to just stare or are you going to help?”

“Perhaps, if I knew what you have intended for your-” Thandon stepped closer, holding out his arms in offer to carry the limp girl, noting auburn bangs and heart-shaped face as she was transferred, “-young charge. You’ve never been one for kidnapping before.”

The moment the lithe female form was out of his arms, Parias hurried to pull the pumpkin mask from his head, shaking his brown locks, damp with sweat despite the late autumn chill growing outside, “I’ve never heard a nightingale sing to enslave either. Quickly, get my silk ties. We’ll bind her and build a suitable cage later.”

The mention of a cage made Thandon pause. “You intend to keep her.”

“She’s not decor, Thandon. Hurry, if you would, my magic is only barely holding her under.” 

“You know I advise against this. She looks to be a wild creature. Fae even. You haven’t taken a fae wildling, have you?” Thandon could hear the muttering under Parias’ breath. “And I’ll bet you haven’t a clue what you’re going to do with her.”

Parias huffed, watching as Thandon lowered her into a corner chair, plush and tufted, thankful it did not wake her as her head lolled to the side. “Thandon.” 

“Yes?”

“Shut up and go get my silk ties from the closet.”

Thandon’s eyes narrowed, back straightening as his voice took on a rebellious and icy tone. “Your ties were not brought here this time. They are back at the manor.”

Tampering down on his rising frustration with the man that had been his Valet only recently but his dearest friend his whole life, Parias exhaled roughly. “Just get something soft that will hold. Now.”

As Thandon finally disappeared up the second set of stairs, Parias stared down at his songbird. Fae. What crap. Fae hadn’t been on tongue-tips for centuries. And this? Couldn’t be a fae.  

Still, the mystery to why the Jack-os came to her eluded him. They’d stayed even when she had stopped singing. Some had bustled even closer, fine to overrun their brethren for the proximity alone. No creature with wings had ever wandered into Calabraizer during his lifetime, just as nothing but his call had ever drawn the Jack-os from their porch perches.

Thandon returned and held out the metered strips of silk, frayed edges showing he had torn one of Parias’ shirts for the endeavor.  

Parias snatched the pieces, noting the color, “This is that tacky one mother got me last Candelaria.”

“I hindered a guess that it was not your favorite.”

Parias rolled his eyes and set to work binding the girl’s ankles, knees, wrists, and wings; lifting her arms to pull a strap around her chest and tied it from behind. Just tight enough to effectively immobilize. He looked up to where Thandon had been watching him as he settled onto the floor in front of the chair. “Get some food and a room ready. She’ll come around soon. Tomorrow, my nightingale gets a new home.”

Thandon’s eyes followed from Parias to the girl now bound in the chair. Traces of mild anxiety buzzed through him, the electricity making his nerves twitch. It’d never been his place to ask or refuse, though he’d done it many a time. Tonight, unsure what to say, he didn’t even nod as he turned to do as he was told.

Daylight pierced Daphne’s eyelids, lashes fluttering to subdue the blinding pain of unwelcome light. She should have been asleep in a tree by now. Or hidden in a shadowed space between the eaves of the town’s houses. Rolling, her wings pushed to open only to meet resistance, pressure binding them to her back. Clarity was slow to dawn and slithered from one side of her skull to the other like sludge. Her shoulders crackled and popped from stiffness as she put her hands under her. A slip of fabric falling loose from one shoulder to pool around her wrist.  

Confusion began to set in, eyes adjusting to the brightness slowly as they explored the space, arcing over stucco walls and dark wooden beams, drawn back curtains, light filtering in through brooked shutters. The rounded pillow under her pushed up into her side, the shape and rich plush fabrics unsuited to anything but decor. Her gaze swiveled down to the fabric twisted into a bound torus around her wrists, locking them in front of her.  

One moment she’d been singing to the Jack-os, a kindred species she’d grown up with that protected the town. She loved to sing to them. They would gather at her feet, their little inner lights brightening and dimming to her notes. She could feel the hum of their energy in the air. 

Frustration grew, heart pounding harder as her pulse rose. She tried flex her wings again, the binding at her wrists tugging tighter with every futile push from her wings. Her head swiveled, looking for something, anything, she could reach with her teeth to free her wings and thus her wrists when a golden metallic shimmer caught her peripherals. Inch diameter golden bars fenced her in. Not a fence; a cage.

Daphne threw herself forward and wrapped both hands around the nearest bars, panic quickly taking flight. She’d barely held them for a second before the pain made her scream, pulling back into the center of the pillow. Her fingers sizzled red, irritated from the contact. Flickering from her hands to the bars, her eyes lifted to look towards the other side of the room where a door opened and a man walked in. In a haze of pain, she focused inward, desperate to quiet her breathing. Already trapped, it would do no good to let her captor know she was terrified and now injured.

The man moved lightly, practiced silent steps, coming over and squatting before the cage, a tray in hand. “You’ve awoken.”

She thought about backing herself further into her prison but quickly stopped herself, noting the bars that had singed her formed a full circle and to back up any further would only end badly. Eyeing him carefully, refusing to come towards what he held - a plate of food so close her stomach growled obnoxiously at the divine smells.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips and his mouth curved into a soft smile. Lifting a small latch she couldn’t fully see, he began placing three small bowls before her, the contents steaming and wafting teasingly toward her nose.  

She stayed back and curled her knees up under her chin, waiting for the latch to close again. The man watched her for a few more minutes before getting up and departing. She hadn’t dared touch the food while he watched.  

Her stomach gurgled again, it’s emptiness a reminder that she may not get to pick when she ate for some time. She reached forward, picking at the contents piece by piece, slowly emptying the dishes on the tray. When she was done, she sat back. Her wings pushed again, longing to spread wide and stretch. Muscles tight, she overrode the sensation with the knowledge that whatever this prison was made of had burned her hands. It would wreak havoc on her wings. For now, having them tied, however loosely, would at least keep them from accidental danger.

She curled onto the center of the pillow, eyelids lowering into a food-induced half-sleep, her softly pointed ears, hidden under waves of wood-dark hair, still acutely alert.

Thandon waited until Parias had come down of his own volition and subsequently left for the various meetings and duties of an aristocrat. One of the few facets of Parias’ life he did not envy.  

Having finished preparing the ingredients for supper, he’d set the pot low and knew it would take hours to cook. Right on time for Parias’ eventual return. Wiping his hands on the towel tucked at his waist, Thandon then removed it and set it to the side, taking a small plate of sliced cheeses, apples, and bread to hand. His employer seemed to be comfortable not checking on the girl but Thandon just didn’t have it in him to be heartless. 

Parias had spoken of keeping the girl like a treasure, a trophy, yet he was treating her already as a prisoner. Thandon shook his head as he climbed the stairs and quietly pushed open the door to the spare room.  

In the center of the cage, gilt iron at Parias’ command, lay the girl on her side, wings still bound behind her, the silk strips made from Parias’ shirt holding the appendages close to the body, some pulling between deep autumnal brown feathers. The moment he stepped inside he was frozen in place by her eyes, wide open and staring, a golden-orange glow that practically pulsed with an unknown magic. Thandon swallowed, nerves suddenly stripped bare.  

Not a child, yet neither an adult, those eyes saw far more than he was willing to share. His eyes lowered to where the strip from Parias’ shirt that still held her wrists together had been shifted by one thumb to wrap around her palm. A wound dressing? But how? The cage was smooth and free of edges.

Thandon slowly edged closer, pausing still feet away and bending down onto the balls of his feet, his voice softened, “Are you hurt?”

She stared blankly at him, remaining quiet until those fiery citrine orbs blinked and in a split second she was a live creature once more. Vocals raw and hurt, an undercurrent of fear bleeding into anger, “Prisoner. How long are you keeping me?”  

He wanted to let her out. That voice was as silken as the fabric scrap wrapped in her fist, which closed tighter for a moment, fingers flexing. Is this what it took to make his best friend seemingly lose his mind? His mouth opened and closed silently before he set the tray he held down, noting the one he’d brought earlier still near the latched entrance, though now empty. At least she’d eaten. He kept his voice level, edging closer, “I…I don’t know. My name’s Thandon. I won’t hurt you. I’ve brought you more food.”

Her eyes shifted to the tray, locking on the clear glass on one end, water settling deep in its belly after the journey from the kitchen. Her gaze flicked up to where Thandon squatted before her.  

Thandon reached for the latch. When he opened it, her hands snapped out in unison, the bandaged one catching at his wrist. “Thandon…Daphne. Let me go. Please.”

Thandon’s fingers froze, his heart plummeting within his chest. Daphne. She was pleading for her freedom. He longed to give it to her yet his hand stayed, whether for the sake of her touch or otherwise, he wasn’t sure. His mind ran rampant, at the forefront what would befall of him at Parias’ hand should he free the winged girl. His lifelong friendship with Parias would not save him from the noose if he were found guilty of betrayal and as much as he thought it a case of humanity, Parias most certainly would not.  

This girl, for better or worse, was Parias’ prize. 

Daphne held Thandon’s eyes, realization that it would indeed be a long time before she tasted the air of freedom again dulling the color in her eyes until finally she let go of his wrist, her gaze shifting toward the floor.  

Thandon pulled his arm back and followed her vision, anchoring himself before lifting the tray and setting it within the bars as he had before, removing the first tray, and closing the latch after. His instincts battled within, telling him to both flee the room and to move closer. Despite the clear age difference, he felt the deep pull. He shut his eyes briefly to sever the connection, rising and turning before reopening them. Without another word, he left the room and shut the door behind him, taking a deep breath against the solid wood now at his back.

Daphne had watched Thandon and the way his eyes had changed. She knew by the voices that there were two males and this one - was not the one that held her captive. Not truly. Malevolence did not radiate off of him and the selfish aural ooze that leaked off the one in the Jack-o head she’d seen earlier was absent on this male. Something held onto him. More than just loyalty to whomever it was that had kidnapped her. He had hesitated and that hesitation let hope bloom the tiniest bud deep within her heart.