The Summer King and His Winter Bride-Chapter 36: Imprisoned

The darkness of the Autumn Court’s dungeon lay ahead of them as the guards dragged King Casimir and the Winter Court General, Theron down a dimly lit narrow flight of stairs.

The air was pungent with the rotting smell of earth and flesh. Casimir’s hands were bound tightly behind his back in shackles that dug into his skin but his head remained high and his eyes burned with anger.

His armor was streaked with mud and blood but his countenance bore the resemblance of a king who may have fallen from power but whose spirit was still resilient.

Beside him, Theron was bound as well. His footsteps were heavy as he was pushed to walk on the cold stone floor. His shoulders were slumped from exhaustion, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. He was not one to admit defeat despite being forced to surrender.

They stopped at a heavy iron door, its surface long rusted from years of neglect. The guard in front of them unlocked the door with a key and flung the cell door wide open.

Casimir and Theron were shoved inside, the cold musty air of the dungeon engulfing them as the door slammed shut behind them.

The sound of the lock clicking into place broke the silence and the guards took their position to stand watch outside their cell.

Casimir could hear the distant sounds of dripping water, the soft scurrying of rats in the dark corners of the dungeon, and the faint rustle of old straw beneath his boots.

His gaze swept over the damp stone walls, the tiny window at the top of the room that offered nothing if not a single streak of light from the outside world.

It was barely enough to see anything with, but it was enough to remind him of the world that existed beyond these walls that still belonged to him, if only he could reach for it.

Casimir’s gaze shifted to Theron who stood in the corner of the cell. He was a noble figure of strength and loyalty to the Winter Court. He was already pacing with his hands still bound and his facial features pulled taut from thinking of a way to escape. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"This can’t be over," Theron muttered under his breath, his voice clear. "We need to find a way out. They cannot keep us locked up here forever."

Casimir didn’t respond immediately because his mind was racing from the anger, the frustration, and the hunger for revenge.

"Do you think they’ll kill or break us first?" Theron asked.

"That remains to be seen friend." Casimir grunted out.

Theron chuckled darkly. "You’ve never been very reassuring my king but right now we need to be hopeful in order to get out of here."

Casimir’s gaze flickered to the bars of the cell, the faint light catching the glint of steel as his mind continued to work. He had to focus. He couldn’t let the bitterness and rage overwhelm him not yet. Especially when so much was at stake, his people, his kingdom and Caroline his beloved wife.

"We will escape and when we do, we will make them pay."

Theron nodded though his face was a mask of uncertainty.

For a long moment, Theron said nothing. Then he looked up, at Casimir his gaze sharp.

"You still think we have a chance?"

Casimir met his gaze with unwavering confidence.

"A king never gives up, even when all hope seems lost."

Theron still chained, offered a rare smile a spark of hope flickered in his eyes.

"Then I’ll stand by you, Casimir for as long as it takes."

Casimir turned back to the dark corner of the cell, where shadows crept like enemies in the night. His mind raced, focusing on the smallest of details, preparing his next move. Every defeat had its lesson. Casimir figured he would have to learn from this one, using it to build a strategy that would leave his enemies quaking in their boots.

He would get his kingdom back.

Queen Arabella might have the upper hand for now, but she would not have it for long.

Casimir rolled his shoulders slightly, wincing as the motion pulled the long cuffs tighter but he noticed the shackles were not a perfect fit.

He lowered himself slowly to one knee and took in deep breaths while doing so. With his back to the wall and his eyes closed.

Theron watched him warily. "What are you doing?"

Casimir’s voice was calm. "Waiting. Listening."

"To what?"

"The rhythm of the metal and my magic." A pause. "They used iron—not steel. Cheaper. More brittle. They were in a rush."

He twisted his wrists, just slightly and pain lanced up his arm, but he welcomed it. The pain meant sensation, control and life.

Casimir began to shift his body weight slowly, pressing his wrists against the edge of the wall behind him, testing the angles.

A sharp edge. A chip in the stone.

Casimir focused on the shackles, slow movements, small grinding motions that wore down the tension in the lock. Heat began to stir beneath his skin not from the friction, but from within. His fire magic resurfaced.

He exhaled through his nose. A slow count of five. The fire was there, low and buried deep.

Another twist of his wrist and the skin tore, a wet warm liquid slid down his forearm. He barely flinched.

Theron stepped closer. "Are you.....?"

"Don’t speak," Casimir said sharply but without anger. "Just listen."

He closed his eyes again, feeling for the pulse of power deep within him. It was sluggish, but it responded. A whisper of heat coiled through his veins. Not enough to burn down the door not yet but enough to warm the metal, weaken it. Iron hated fire.

Casimir shifted again, pressing his arms behind him against the edge of stone. Sparks of magic flickered under his skin like dying stars.

"I will escape and when I do, I will tear this court apart brick by brick until Caroline is safe, and Arabella is ash at my feet."

Another crack. A faint shift. The right shackle loosened.

Casimir exhaled, forehead damp with sweat. "When we get out of here, we’ll rebuild. We’ll take back what’s ours."

"You really think we still have a chance?"

Casimir met Theron’s gaze with something cold and certain.

"A king does not stop because he has fallen. He rises. He rebuilds. And he reminds the world who he is."

He pulled once more this time, the right shackle snapped with a metallic pop.

Theron’s eyes widened.

Casimir cradled his injured wrist, blood and sweat mingling, but he didn’t stop. He reached across himself and began working on the left.

Theron approached, voice hushed. "Do you need help?"

"Keep watch," Casimir muttered. "The next time they open that door, we strike."

A moment later, the second shackle broke free.

Casimir stood up, slowly and sure, his eyes glowing amber like flames gathering behind them. He flexed his fingers, bloodied and raw.

He was still trapped in a cell. Just no longer chained.