Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
VERA
Once again, Reizei keeps me isolated for days, or maybe weeks, on end. I’ve got no clue.
It’s on purpose, I know.
It keeps me stuck in the nervous loop, always vigilant about when the next round is coming. Wondering about what other methods of breaking me he has in his toolbox.
I’m sure the next round will be worse than my imagination can conjure.
It takes me ages to dry after the waterboarding. In my cell, I’ve got no blankets, so I tremble uncontrollably until cold becomes part of me. It settles in my bones. In the very heart of my soul.
By now, I know my cell by heart. I know exactly how many stones are on each wall. How many cracks. I am well familiar with every inch of cold, damn floor under me.
With my hands tucked under my cheek, I lie on my side. Kitajo’s face is inches away from mine. His breath tickles my cheeks. He feels so real. I’m dying with longing to touch him, but I don’t dare. I don’t want him evaporating.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Kitajo frowns. “What for, my love?”
“For talking you out of the idea to execute any and all Ezkai and Dzuni families associated with Caligos,” I say with a sigh. “If I hadn’t been on my moral high horse, you may still be alive. Maybe I wouldn’t be here either.”
Kitajo chuckles. “Don’t. We are where we are because the spirits of the gods will it that way.”
I frown. What sort of bullshit is that?
He never spoke like this before. My Kitajo never left anything up to the spirits of the gods, or fate.
“Besides, what sort of legacy would I leave if I started executing my people? You were right.”
I smile to myself. That’s more like it.
“Fighting violence with violence only breeds more violence,” he says.
“Violence is the only language they understand,” I croak. “The new Ezkai General is chosen through violence. Our society is built on it.”
Kitajo smiles. “The Order of Ezkai is about controlled violence used at the right moment, for the right reasons. We’re not cruel. We’re not barbaric.”
“Maybe Phoenix is right. She doesn’t hesitate. You should have seen the way she slit Daegel’s throat. If she hadn’t, things would be looking so much worse right about now.”
Kitajo considers my words. “She’s ruthless.”
I sigh. “She’s hurting and pretends she isn’t.”
“Aren’t you?”
I don’t answer.
The lock rattles. My body braces, muscles tensing. I stay where I am. There’s no point.
A heartbeat later, the door opens. Light floods the space, sharp and blinding. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Two pairs of hands haul me up by my arms and drag me out of the cell.
This time, two Caligos soldiers bring me to a different room. The fae handling me are also different.
The stone walls and floors are darker here. Large dried puddles of old blood cover the ground. Some splatter is dried on the walls. In the middle hangs a long iron chain. That’s where they bring me.
One of the fae collects my wrists in his palm and lifts my arms above my head. He joins me to the chain with iron cuffs.
It burns like a bitch. As if my wrists are inside a fireplace, flames licking at the naked skin.
The chain is hooked to the ceiling, and then part of it goes down to a hook on the wall. That’s where the second fae, a woman with red hair and forest green eyes, stands.
“Where’s your Big Boss?” I croak.
“Busy,” the woman answers. “There are more important matters than breaking whores.”
I snort a laugh, swaying. “More important than taking down Savage King?”
“Who says you’re the only lead?”
My heart tumbles out of my chest. I don’t show it. They’re lying. They must be. It’s part of the game to break me. My lieutenants are loyal first and foremost.
Like Tanaka was? an annoying voice at the back of my head asks.
I swallow, my throat tight and raw.
“Enough,” the man barks. “Lift her up.”
The woman obeys. She pulls on the chain just hard enough to get me on my tippy toes. My body is forced to stretch. It’s a disorienting feeling, to only be holding on to stability with my toes.
Instinctively, I want to push against the sharp pull in my shoulders. My wrists scream, but I grit my teeth and refuse to give my captors the satisfaction of crying out so early.
“Comfortable, whore?” the man asks.
“Very.” I manage to get the words out.
He smirks and pads over to the side of the room behind me. The woman watches me like a hawk. Unlike the man, she wears a neutral, guarded expression.
I startle when behind me the sound of metal hitting the stone erupts. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as the sound of metal scraping wood drags on. From the corner of my eye, I see the man as he rounds me. It’s a long, sharp metal rod he’s dragging behind him.
“Let’s see how long that continues,” he says with a sigh.
As if he’s annoyed he has to be here, dealing with me.
I wet my dry lips.
As minutes tick by, my shoulders start to burn. I try to shift the weight, but nothing helps. My toes barely scrape the floor. I think I may be losing sensation in my fingers.
Of course, the man watches me suffer, and the more uncomfortable I get, the more bored he looks. The woman remains neutral.
Is that the play? One of them is the bad guy while the other is supposed to give me a sense of comfort? When I finally have no other choice but to beg?
No matter.
I’m not giving up.
“Lift her higher,” the man says, looking at his partner. “She’s getting too comfortable.”
The woman hesitates only for a beat before pulling on the chain. A desperate yelp escapes my lips as I’m hoisted higher into the air. My toes are nowhere close to the ground, the pressure on my shoulders and wrists only intensifies. My arms tremble, muscles refusing the keep the tension.
I bite the inside of my cheek and breathe through the pain.
I will endure.
“Are you ready to give us some names now?” The man cocks his head to the side.
“Not a chance.” I huff the words out.
He smirks and taps the metal cane on the stone floor. “Thought so.”
The first hit comes so fast and unexpected that all air leaves my lungs. The impact of metal on my ribs yanks me sideways, rattling the chain. It pulls harder on my wrists and shoulders. I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body tensing.
The second hit lands on my thighs. A little softer. But every time I shift even the smallest amount, it only applies more pressure to my shoulders and wrists.
“One name,” the man says. “One name and this is all over.”
I keep his gaze and press my lips shut.
He’s getting nothing from me.
The third time he hits me with the cane, it splits the thin material of my pants. My muscles tremble uncontrollably. I steal a glance up at my wrists. The iron chafes against the sensitive skin, close to breaking it. My shoulders feel as if they may pop out at any time.
I must endure.
All I have to do is endure.
This will be over soon. They won’t kill me. Not yet. All I must do is bear this a little longer until they let me go back to my cell, to the familiar darkness and the comfort of Kitajo’s presence.
My muscles give in, and my whole body sags. I don’t feel my hands or fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my head on the inside of my arm. My head is so, so heavy.
No point in fighting this. I won’t win.
All I can do is survive.
Slowly, in my mind, I try to detach from all the sensations in my physical body. The strain, the pull, the dull ache, the tingling and numbness. The sharp pain of the iron cane against my bones.
In my mind, I’m not here.
Not in this dark cell with two strangers.
I’m back in Ezkai Castle.
It’s late spring, with the plum trees blossoming all around Jaakii. I’m standing in front of the big window in Kitajo’s bedroom, savoring the sight of the sun setting behind the mountains, and the orange blossoms everywhere.
A strong, familiar hand wraps around my waist. I feel the warmth of his body against my back. It feels so good. I allow myself to lean into it, into the feeling of him. My safe space.
Before I know it, darkness claims me.