Chapter Thirteen #3
Seth doesn’t get around to torturing us that night. He’s far too busy rewriting all of his orders on unspoiled paper, and then it’s time for our baths before we move again in the morning.
“He’s like you,” Taran whispers to me later when Seth is sleeping.
“No, he isn’t. I watched him cut a man’s hand off my first day here.”
“And what did that man do?”
My throat tightens as I think of it. “Touch me. Threaten to hurt me.”
“Exactly.”
I know Taran has a point because I reached the same conclusion myself. “If you’re right, what do we do about it?”
“Bide our time. Look for a chance to escape. Try to convince him to let us go.”
“Do you think he would?”
Taran shrugs. “Maybe. With the way Adria treats him, he’s likely to come with us.”
We do bide our time, but our next day on the road affords us no opportunities, and when we make it to the next camp location, Seth does what Adria suggested and shackles our legs again.
He doesn’t, however, separate us.
“I want you both where I can see you,” he explains. He moves our beds further apart and further from his desk, even though it encroaches on his dining area, which he finds annoying but ultimately worth the sacrifice.
We settle into something of a strange routine.
Seth leaves us alone during the day, during which time Taran and I try to find a way to overpower the servants or break free of our shackles, but Seth has found the sense to send the servants with guards, and we have nothing within reach to pick the locks.
We grow accustomed to each other’s company quickly, being forced to do everything together with no privacy.
The twin wounds of his killing my father to save Ronan and my betrayal of Ronan to save my family seem to cancel each other out in the end.
We can understand each other’s actions even if we don’t agree with them.
And I find that Taran’s calming presence is especially valuable in this situation.
When Seth returns at night and threatens us with magic or whatever weapon he has handy or whatever new, diabolical thing he’s come up with, Taran’s steadfast conviction that Seth won’t actually harm us is the only thing that keeps me from losing my grip.
Seth never manages to get the shadows out of me, but after a time, I don’t even truly mind trying.
The worst of our time in Seth’s tent is the terrible knowledge that Ronan is going to try to come and save us, and it could cost him his life.
We spend our time alone together coming up with several plans for the worst-case scenario—Ronan’s capture.
It will likely cost us our lives, but one thing we absolutely agree on is that his matters more.
The second worst thing about our time with Seth is the looming deadline for our return to Adria.
We get little news of the war from Seth, but from what we’ve heard, it’s not going as well as expected for Nithyria, and Adria is raging, demanding Seth produce answers from us that he knows we won’t give.
“Can you just tell me something so I don’t have to go through the trouble of really torturing you?
” Seth says finally on the sixth day, his voice exasperated after another uneventful attempted shadow-summoning session.
“I was hoping to have an early night. I’m tired.
” He flops down on his desk histrionically.
I sit on the edge of my bed, watching Taran tend to the minor burn on his wrist where Seth heated the metal of his shackle. “Even if we tell you all of Faros’s secrets, Adria will still kill us. So why should we talk?”
“I did try to make that point, you know,” says Seth. “I suppose we ought to try torture to get those pesky shadows to make an appearance anyway.”
I’m not sure what we’ve been doing these past few days if not for at least a light version of torture, but I don’t really want to know how much worse it can get with him.
“Sir?” calls a voice from beyond the tent.
“Enter,” says Seth lazily without turning.
I jump out of my bed when I see who enters.
It’s Larus, being led in by a guard with his hands tied.
Larus looks as downtrodden as I’ve ever seen him. He’s a man who cares deeply about appearances, and seeing him unshaven in torn, ragged clothing is a shock to my system. Did he ever make it back to Ronan? Could Ronan have turned him away for his betrayal?
Gods, Larus. What happened to you?
“Oh, good,” says Seth, looking up for only half a second. “You’re just in time, Larus. We can torture you too. One of you ought to talk.”
I look at Larus, who barely meets my eye. Why did he come back here? Was he trying to help me escape?
Fuck, this is a disaster. We’re due to go back to Adria tomorrow, and she wants to kill him as badly as she wants to kill us.
“Just there in the center,” says Seth, gesturing to the guard. “Tie him to the post and fetch more shackles. Wait—no shackles. He’s earth-born. Just the rope.” He looks around at his three prisoners. “I’m running out of room in here. I need a bigger tent.”
The guard lowers Larus to the floor in front of me and begins untying him.
Then the very same guard turns to me and winks.
Ronan. He’s in disguise, but I’m certain it’s him.
I reach into the pillowcase and pull out the sleep elixir just as all hell breaks loose.