Chapter 14 #2
We descended into the bowels of the place, Gryvak prodding me ahead of him. Kind of rude, seeing as how he carried the lantern. I couldn’t see the steps and almost pitched forward a few times, given their uneven pacing.
We arrived in a creepy basement—no surprise. Of shock, the moment I set foot in it, the bubble of silence burst.
I immediately blurted out, “Where are you taking me?”
No reply, just a shove in the direction of an open door, and when I balked, out came the knife.
Guess I wouldn’t be getting an explanation. As a matter of fact, Gryvak had barely spoken to me the entire trip. So rude. As an Infernal guide, I rated him zero stars. Didn’t he know, as my captor, he should be bragging about his plan, giving me clues?
A waggle of his dagger had me dragging my feet into an empty room with an ominous hole in the far corner and nothing else.
Gryvak hung the lantern on a hook from the ceiling, and when he did finally speak, it was to give warning.
“Don’t bother trying to use your magic. The stone used for these walls is threaded argencae, which cuts you off from all esoteric forces. ”
Or so he claimed. Although it might explain why I had my voice back.
“Listen, you fucking prick, you can’t—”
My captor didn’t stick around to listen to my complaint. He slammed the door shut, and I might have immediately panicked if not for the light he’d left behind.
Still, I did breathe a little heavier as I paced the tight space that lacked a window. My first time in a cell. I also rated it zero stars.
I couldn’t have said how long I spent in that basement—long enough for my hair to turn into a wild mess full of dust and cobwebs.
Long enough for me stop being scared of the hairy spiders that kept finding their way in, which I squished while screaming with my boot worn as a glove.
Long enough I pooped in the hole in the floor rather than in my pants.
We won’t discuss how I wiped my ass after though.
Let’s just say, I now wore my pants commando.
Gryvak did check on me periodically. Each time the door opened, I greeted him with the insults accumulated since he’d last popped in. The ones that made him twitch usually involved mockery about his little dick.
The fucker didn’t speak during his visits, but he did bring food of sorts.
A flask of water, a hunk of bread that was almost fresh, a jar filled with an unknown sticky and dark substance.
Jam, as it turned out, using an unknown fruit.
Surprised I even tried it? Me, too, however hunger would make a girl do crazy things such as pry open unlabeled containers and stick her fingers in for a lick.
Once Gryvak dropped my meager meals, he’d spend a moment staring at me.
Not my face. Oh no, he wouldn’t meet my glare.
His gaze roved me head to toe as if looking for something beyond my flesh.
Likely assessing the fullness of my magical reservoir, a magic I couldn’t touch no matter how hard I wished, concentrated, or cried.
Once Gryvak finished his creepy staring, he left as abruptly as he arrived—all without saying a word.
The mental torture almost made me lose my mind.
After many flesh-withering years—AKA a few days where I didn’t eat enough and lost a few pounds—Gryvak came for his daily check-in, only this time he didn’t come alone.
He had two women with him, gray-skinned, somber-faced, and wearing what seemed to be the female equivalent of a uniform. Matching dark skirts, light blouses, aprons covering the front of their torsos, and caps over their coiled hair.
While they entered my cell, Gryvak remained in the doorway, dagger in hand. “Douse her with the drug.”
I wanted to yell “I don’t do drugs,” but that would be a lie. I settled for, “Don’t you dare.”
“You have two choices to leave this cell. The first one, you allow my staff to put you to sleep. The second, I punch you until you’re unconscious. What would you prefer?”
“I would prefer to be back home,” I grumbled. “But since that’s not happening, drugs it is.” It should be noted I quite enjoyed partaking in fun drugs, not so much the version that got poured onto a rag and slapped over my mouth.
Instinct had me holding my breath at the acrid fumes that stung the eyes. Eventually, though, the burning ache in my lungs led to me inhaling, and I passed out.
I woke lying on a bed in a sumptuous bedchamber. Something out of a historical romance novel with a stitched brocade comforter and four posters that went high enough for a canopy to stretch across.
“About time you woke,” grumbled Gryvak, arms crossed, one of them still gripping his damned dagger. “The evening festivities have already begun.”
Groggy and my mouth pasty, I pushed myself to a seating position. “Well, excuse me. Maybe next time go lighter on the roofie.” I might have had more to say but ended up gasping, as I noticed I wore the dress from my dream. Green, sparkly, boofy, and girly. Totally not me.
Before I could truly grasp the fact I might have glimpsed the future, Gryvak growled, “Time to go.” I might have replied, only the bubble of silence once more enveloped me.
I marched ahead of Gryvak, exiting the fancy bedroom into a hall with several closed doors.
The corridor ended in a grand staircase.
My fingers trailed along the finely carve balustrade as we descended.
I dawdled somewhat as I noticed portraits on the wall.
Several of them. All of Gryvak. Dressed in a uniform, wielding his sword, riding one of those six-legged creatures.
Lounging naked on a settee, a cloth artfully draped over his loins.
If I’d had my voice, I would have mentioned his tiny peepee again. Why else hide it?
We saw no one on our way down the staircase, nor did anyone loiter in the kitchen. We passed a bowl of fruit left out on the counter, and even though I recognized none of the colorful globes, I snatched something yellow and bit into it before Gryvak could stop me.
“You’d better not get any juice on your dress,” was his only warning before we stepped out of a kitchen door into a courtyard, where an enclosed carriage awaited along with four of those fancy six-legged beasts to pull it.
A footman—at least I think that was what you called the dude in the fancy suit—opened the door and offered me a gloved hand.
A tiny stool gave me the leverage needed to get inside the fancy box.
Smaller than my cell, but nicer by far with plush velvety seats and windows with the curtains drawn.
The moment I sat down, I yanked the fabric so I could see out outside.
Gryvak sat across from me, regally dressed in black trimmed in green to match my dress as if we were a couple attending a fancy ball.
If my dream could be believed, that might actually be the case.
I spent the trip gawking out the window.
The streets, the people, the buildings. Everything looked so wonderful and vibrant after my stint in the basement.
The carriage clattered through the cobbled streets, heading for the citadel.
Up we went, the path to the massive palace winding and sharply inclined.
We hit a few checkpoints along the way. Each time the carriage stopped Gryvak exited only long enough to exchange a few words and hand over a jingling bag.
Bribery alive and well in a different dimension.
Couldn’t say I was all that surprised. Shadow Elves and humans had more in common than they probably realized.
At the final gate, I truly thought Gryvak might finally get arrested, for he ended up in a heated argument with the guards, but three bribery pouches later and we entered the main courtyard of the king’s citadel. One of many carriages, as it turned out, waiting their turn to disgorge the occupants.
As we inched forward, Gryvak finally addressed me. “We are at King Urieus’ palace, which means I will be divested of my dagger, but don’t think that leaves me defenseless. If you step out of line, you will be punished. You will walk by my side, in silence. If anyone addresses you, ignore them.”
“Is someone afraid I’ll make a scene and get them arrested?” I taunted.
“I’m giving you warning. Disobey it at your own peril, but realize, you’re a human about to enter the Eastern King’s personal domain. Misbehave and it won’t be me putting you in your place. There isn’t any love for outsiders here. I’ve been gentle with you so far.”
“Gentle?” I snorted.
“More so than they would be, so it would behoove you to follow my orders.”
“And how will they react when you force me to kill the king?” my blunt riposte.
He made a tsking sound. “I never said you’d be killing him.”
“I know you want his throne. You were exiled and sentenced for punishment for trying to steal it.”
“Because I didn’t have the proper tools, but now that I have you, everything has changed.”
I snorted. “No one is going to believe I’m a threat.”
His lips had a secretive smile I didn’t trust. “Because you’re not. However, I am, and before the evening ends, everyone will be bowing to me.” The door opened, and a male elf in a black uniform trimmed in silver awaited our exit from the carriage.
Gryvak emerged first and then turned to offer me his hand. As I stepped out, I heard someone gasp and mutter, “The traitor dares to show his face, and he’s brought a round ear to the palace!”
Guess my captor might not have been lying about how people felt about humans. Although was round ears really the best insult they had?
As we walked up a wide set of polished white stone steps, I muttered, “We’d have drawn less attention if you’d had your ladies hide my ears and caked me with gray makeup.”
“Concealing your nature would defeat the purpose of this excursion. Now be quiet. I wish for us to make a grand entrance.”