Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
A n annoying, rattling sound woke Everinne from what felt like a month’s long slumber.
Or perhaps it was the fact that she could no longer feel her fingers and toes.
Shivers wrecked her frozen body so she shuddered compulsively, unable to retain any warmth.
Her eyes flew open, and it was only then she realized the rattling sound was coming from her.
She clenched her jaw, but not even that was enough to keep her teeth from chattering.
She found herself curled onto a rickety wooden bench at the mouth of a gaping cave.
Frigid wind slapped at her cheeks, tearing at the threadbare clothing she wore—the thin brown top and pants with shredded hems did nothing to keep away its bitter sting.
Iron shackles were clamped around her wrists and ankles, dampening her magic, leaving her weak and faint.
She eased herself up, her gaze drifting skyward to where jagged mountain peaks capped with snow carved an indigo sky.
Everinne knew those mountains.
The Karmorva Mountains sculpted Prava’s northernmost border, their rugged interiors filled with veins of sparkling fire. Except maybe not anymore. Now the majestic mountains would be exposed for nightfall diamonds.
Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and a knot of emotion strangled the back of her throat.
She tried to swallow it, pretend it wasn’t real, but understanding had already lodged itself in her heart.
The stench of dried blood and cold sweat hung in the air, mingling with the scent of raw earth, pine, and fresh snow.
The wind howled, drowning out the cries of anguish and despair coming from inside the mountains.
Kralv Oldrich had sent her to the Rizenrok Forge.
Boots crunched loudly against the frozen ground and Everinne jerked upright, her iron shackles clattering together.
A guard stood before her, but he wasn’t dressed like the ones back in Starysa.
Whereas they wore black and gold, this male was dressed in all gray leathers.
Intricate runes were carved into the armor protecting his chest and he wore a cape of the same dull color, the hood thrown over his head to conceal most of his face.
A studded belt was wrapped around his waist and from it hung a corded whip of braided leather.
Dark scruff lined his angular jaw, but the rest of his face was hidden from her view.
He cracked his knuckles, one at a time, and only then did Everinne see that he wore a gold signet ring embellished with a fire ruby on his pinky.
“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice scratchy and coarse, even though she already knew the answer. It was a pathetic attempt, but at least if she could get this guard talking, then perhaps she could suspend time, maybe even delay the inevitable.
“First rule.” He spoke with icy precision, his tone lacking any warmth. “You don’t get to ask questions.”
The guard reached for his whip and Everinne cowered on the bench, curling into herself as the long strap of leather unfurled toward the ground.
“But since you asked so nicely.” He rolled his wrist, spinning the whip around and around, so it kicked up dirt and dust, so the sound of it hissed into the wind, and caused Everinne’s heart to stutter. “You’re here to be broken and I’m going to be the one to break you.”
She cried out, but in one swift movement, the guard raised his arm and the whip cracked like lightning through the air. Stiff leather connected with Everinne’s shoulder, lashing at her flesh through the thin material of her shirt, drawing blood.
Everinne screamed. The wicked wood awoke. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a demon roared.