Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Iwas tied to Galomp, back-to-back, magical blocking cuffs digging into my wrists and the promise of our deaths on the wind.
A couple of warriors had force-fed us one of Father’s Order suppressant powders that he’d often bought from Wandershire, the potion strong enough to suppress our Orders for several hours.
We’d been placed in the village square near a water fountain with a statue of a flaming Phoenix in the centre while we awaited our execution. But there was a lot of debate going on around how we should be dealt with. It seemed like a shambles in all honesty.
Lisbeth Regal, the new commander, was standing with a group of high-ranking warriors around her, all arguing loudly.
It seemed her rise to power was not going smoothly, none of them taking too well to her rule.
She’d likely asserted herself during the chaos but the usual proceedings involved a vote among the generals when a commander died in battle.
That vote evidently hadn’t taken place and now Lisbeth was struggling to maintain order.
Some cried out for our immediate execution while others pleaded the case for a long torture, while the last few tried to demand we were used as bait to trap the Void.
My sister was a prime topic too. Many called for her capture but others were adamant she be killed.
It was clear there was a divide here, some still hoping to placate Everest and earn her trust once more, while others wished to wield her as an unwilling prisoner.
But so long as they couldn’t decide, Galomp and I remained breathing and that was about all I could hope for to buy us time to escape.
“Stop wriggling,” Galomp huffed. “You are twisting and turning and rubbing my elbows.”
“We need to get out of here, you great wildebeest,” I hissed at him. “We’re down to our final hours, maybe minutes if one of these assholes decides to take this decision into their own hands.”
“Yes, it is quite the bother. I am no fool, I am not. But wriggling will do us no good. We must cut our binds. That broken stone on the fountain’s base looks sharp, yes it does.”
I followed his gaze to the stone and cursed beneath my breath. He was right. The imbecile had more braincells than I’d counted on.
“Well get shuffling then, oaf,” I growled.
“Oh bother, I do not like being called an oaf. And I do not like being bossed around either. You have a foul mouth and a fouler tongue. My uncle says men like you are just boys with bad tempers. I think he is right, I do.”
“Move or I’ll make you,” I snarled trying to drag him but the bastard was too damn heavy even for me to lift.
“You are a very angry man. And I do not know why you ran with Miss Everest. Are you not sad your father is dead? I thought you were his favourite son, I did. You were his lap dog, why aren’t you pining?”
I gritted my teeth, shoving my feet against the cobblestones to try and force him to move but he wouldn’t budge. I let out a huff and answered him, figuring it was the only way I was going to get him to move.
“I’m no lap dog, oaf. Maybe I was once, but I didn’t know what my father was truly like. I didn’t see this coming any more than you did. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I saw too much.”
“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “So you are not sad?”
“No,” I hissed, but that wasn’t entirely true.
I’d felt a lot of things watching Everest kill my father alongside a fucking Flamebringer.
Part of me had wanted to cry out and yell at her to stop, but another, darker part that I didn’t understand had won out.
It had told me to remain quiet, to wait and watch and let it happen.
So I had. And as he’d died, I’d felt both horrified by my inaction, pained at what I’d once shared with my father, but most of all, liberated by his death.
He had never loved me, not really. Not in the way I’d thought.
I’d seen his interest shift from me to Everest with such severity that he’d never even glanced back.
All the years of being his favourite, his doted-on prodigy, and he’d dismissed me the moment he’d seen something more useful in another child.
I’d worked my whole life to please him. I’d tried to become all he’d wanted me to be but when I’d found myself on a battlefield, facing the reality of war, I’d flinched.
I still hadn’t killed in battle. I’d avoided every strike, feigned kills by following the footsteps of other, braver souls. I was disgustingly cowardly when it came to war. And I would never say it out loud but I was damn relieved Father had never realised it.
And now he never would.
But I’d gone rogue, followed Everest and run from everything I’d ever known. What path would she lead me on if I could return to her? What place in this world did I belong to now that I’d turned my back on my entire nation?
No, I couldn’t think of those things. I could only try and live one more day. Then I’d work out the rest. As long as I didn’t have to run into battle again, I would be content.
“I am not sad either. He was mean and I did not like him. I do not like what the people of our nation are saying about Everest now either. I do not believe she is a traitor. But if she is, then I will be one with her,” Galomp said proudly then he started shuffling toward the wall, dragging me along with him.
Our ankles were tied so we couldn’t move with any swiftness, but we managed to get to the wall and angle our wrists against it.
“Ok, they’re not looking. Hurry,” I hissed, gazing over at the arguing generals as we started rubbing the rope against the sharp rock.
“I will hurry, yes I will,” Galomp assured me. “But if we get out of here, you will not call me oaf again, Ransom Rake.”
“Deal,” I muttered, wincing as the rock slipped and nicked my skin. “But you will in turn not name me Rake again. I renounce that name.”
“What will I call you instead?”
I paused then answered smoothly. “Ransom Arcadia.”
“That is not your name to take. Your mother was not her mother,” he scolded.
“She’s my sister. Fuck being a Rake. Arcadia has a nice ring to it. Why should she get to claim it alone? And my own mother’s name was Squidly. So fuck that.”
“Miss Everest will not like that, no she will not.”
“Too bad,” I smirked. “I’ve taken a liking to it.”