CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX #3
The ceiling was lower here, sloping at odd angles that explained the asymmetrical shape of the roof.
One mounted torch, its flame minuscule and sputtering, barely offered enough light to make out one’s own hand, yet Vayen was without struggle as she unlocked the middle door and all but dragged me inside.
It was… sparse. A single iron sconce perched high on the wall—too high for the average person to reach—emitted an abnormal glow, flooding the space with light.
A decently sized bed resided by the singular window, its frame low to the ground.
The far wall, as I’d witnessed from the market, was nothing more than tree trunk.
Fortunately, I found the woodsy scent to be quite pleasant.
Up against the tree’s bark was a bath made of the same dark wood, furnished with some sort of spigot that extended from within the tree and hovered over the tub itself.
Aside from a small cupboard by the bath, a tiny mirror hanging near the door, and a table for one with a three-legged stool and not so much as a writing utensil to clutter its surface, the room was empty.
Just as throughout the rest of the tavern, those same symbols were etched into the wall, the bed, the tub—almost every surface I laid eyes on was covered.
There was one that glowed a faint white on the top corner of the door, another on the bath glowing faintly red, one on the nearby wall emitting a soft yellow, and yet another on the bed a purplish-blue.
Vayen shut the door behind me, the sudden thud causing me to startle.
“Sorry,” Vayen muttered as she made her way towards the window. She peered outside, left and then right, before dropping both bags on the floor unceremoniously. Without so much as an explanation, she gripped the hilt of her dagger and unsheathed it in one swift motion.
“Sorry?” I said through a humorless laugh. “For which part exactly?”
“Give me your wrists.”
“Do you ever plan on answering my questions? Or do you delight in pretending not to have heard me?”
“I said,” Vayen began, her voice low and even, “give me your wrists.”
I chewed on my lower lip, eyeing the sharp silver of her weapon for only a moment before lifting my arms towards her. I took one step, and then another, closing the distance between us, my entire body yearning for her to release me.
Vayen reached out, carefully slicing through the rope that I had spent the better part of the day cursing.
The knots released, dropping to the floor as though they’d never had any power to begin with.
But I did not move immediately. Instead, I stared at the raw flesh that the fibrous rope had spent two days digging into.
It hadn’t quite prohibited circulation entirely, but it was tight enough in conjunction with the wood’s bitter chill to render my fingers even paler than usual, and I could see the color returning to them before my very eyes.
My wrists throbbed, a silent protest of what had been done to them.
I balled my hands together as I rolled the joints, wincing against the stiffness and ache she had caused.
I turned away from her, flexing my fingers, still feeling the binds even though they lay forgotten on the floor. Who knew how long I would be without them? I doubted their memory would fade before she replaced them with something else.
“Why have you untied me?” I asked tightly, staring at the red, angry skin of my wrists.
“Because it would be difficult for you to bathe without the use of your hands.”
There was a rustling sound, and when Vayen crossed from behind and approached the door, she had only one of the bags draped over her shoulder.
“You’re leaving?” I asked through my astonishment.
Vayen hesitated there, gripping the iron handle loosely as she turned her head to the side, those silver-green eyes piercing beneath raised eyebrows.
“There are several items I must procure before we leave for Mount Sor, and I assumed you’d be desperate for privacy. Unless you’d like me to stay,” she said with an upturned lip that was too near a smirk for my liking.
“N-no, of course not!” I forced out, upset at myself for asking such a stupid question. Then, with all the indignation I could muster, “I’d rather have my final memories steeped in filth and stench than bathe in front of you.”
“As I suspected,” Vayen said. The small smile pulling at the corner of her lip, threatening the resurfacing of that decidedly unlikable dimple, only deepened my annoyance. With that, she stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind her.
I stared at the door as though it had wronged me, hardly trusting that she wouldn’t burst back in the moment she realized the complete and total idiocy of leaving me alone.
Instead, her footsteps sounded through the corridor.
So much for her little speech on finding me capable; what sort of captor would leave their prisoner in an unlocked room if they thought them capable of escape?
An idiot captor, I decided. And Vayen was a great many unpleasant things, but an idiot was not one of them.
I drew my lower lip between my teeth, biting gently as I contemplated my next move.
I desperately sought a soak to free myself of both Rummy’s odor and the grime that had very nearly become a second skin, but I may not have had much time before she returned, if she’d even left at all.
Aha! That must be it.
Perhaps she waited in the hall, just to see if I would make an attempt.
But she was walking away, the scuffing of boots against the creaking floorboard unmistakable as they quieted before disappearing entirely.
Still, what if she waited on the stairs instead of directly outside the room?
I wasn’t sure I could handle the embarrassment of a failed escape attempt, but even less could I stand not trying at all.
So, with a deep breath to steel the nerves sprouting in my stomach, I approached the door, seized the handle, and pulled as gently as I could.
I stared at my hand, eyebrows snapping together.
It must have been stuck. With a bit more strength, I pulled a second time, hoping the sudden yank of the door wouldn’t sound in the corridor.
But again, the handle didn’t budge. In fact, it did even less than budge—I may as well have been pulling at a statue for all it moved.
There was no rattling of the hinges, or wiggling of the handle itself…
it was as if the whole thing had been frozen shut.
I gripped the iron with both hands now, panic rising in my chest as I pulled with all the strength I had left. Jaw clenched, I ground out a yelp as I strained muscles that had no business straining after the last two days.
Still nothing.
Desperately, I placed one boot on the wall beside the door, hoping some leverage might pull it free.
But it was fruitless. By the end, I was even more repulsive than I’d started, sweat dripping down my brow and back, heaving through my mouth like some sort of animal, wild eyes wide with determination.
It took longer than I’d care to admit for my attention to land on that symbol above the door.
“Rootbound,” I seethed. That’s why she felt comfortable leaving me to my own devices—not because she thought I was weak or incapable, but because the room had been sealed with some kind of sorcery.
I pressed my thumb into the opposite palm despite the sting of my wrist, trusting the pain to ground me against the tidal wave of fear pulling me under.
There had to be a way out of this room.
Suddenly, I turned on my heel, all but launching my body at the window by the bed.
I searched desperately for a latch of some kind, and when my attention landed on the iron bolt at its base, I seized its looped end and tried to slide it open.
My sweaty fingers slipped against the metal, but I knew immediately that it wouldn’t matter regardless—the window was rootbound, too.
I slammed my hand on the glass out of frustration.
I could see the whole of Cobble Crossing from here, but I was so high up I doubted anyone would hear even the most blood-curdling of screams. Not as though it would matter.
The entire town had seen Vayen haul me through the streets like a petty thief, and not one soul had batted an eyelash.
No one is coming to save you, I reminded myself as I stared out at the grim, lifeless village. I’d already had that realization, yet it sank deeper into my spirit than it had before.
I heaved a sigh too deep for my lungs, breath catching at the end of the inhale. On the exhale, my eyes were flooded. Unwelcome tears began their descent, bringing with them a sea of uncontrollable gasps as I dropped to the floor, my fist slamming against the wood.
I was alone. Not just in this room, or this village, but in life. I’d thought I could start over, that the Threshold and its mythos might have been impenetrable enough to protect me.
“Stupid girl. Without the Treaty, you’d be worthless.”
It had been quite some time since Linus’ sneer and cruel words had invaded my heart, and I wailed harder in response.
Nothing was ever going to change for me, was it?
And why should it? I had abandoned my kingdom.
I had refused to sacrifice myself for Vayen’s people.
I was neither strong enough to become a Sentinel, nor wise enough to devise a plan that didn’t once again put me in harm’s way.
It had taken every bit of strength I had to cross the Threshold, and for all that effort, I’d merely exchanged one cage for another.