CHAPTER 34
Aelys
My eyes open and I moan softly as my head throbs with pain. I try to bring my hands to my aching temples but freeze when I realize I'm tied to a chair. I try to move my legs without success. My throat tightens and I feel my eyes fill with tears.
What the fuck is going on?
“Ah, Miss Hewloc. I see you're finally awake.”
My head swivels to the left and I wince at the sharp pain of the sudden movement.
My vision is blurry, I blink away tears, feeling one roll down my cheek.
My brown eyes widen when they fall on O'Connor, standing by a wooden door with his hands behind his back.
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and lift my chin, trying not to show fear.
“Professor,” I reply hoarsely. “Why am I here? Oh, and it’s Mrs. Rigast now.”
He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose.
He steps closer to me and smiles, making me shiver.
I take a closer look at him, from his graying hair to his trimmed but still too long beard, to his posture, which betrays his advanced age, hidden under a powerful spell.
He may look barely 50, but I know he's closer to 200.
However, what gives me goosebumps when I look at him is his smile. Fake, devious.
This man is not as good as he claims to be.
“Of course, forgive me.”
“Why am I here?” I repeat louder after clearing my throat.
“We have a few questions for you. You have nothing to fear; just answer us and we'll let you go.”
My eyes narrow at the reassuring smirk he's trying to give, and I snort.
Like I'm going to say anything to either of them.
Besides, there's no one else in this room but the two of us.
My heart sinks when I notice my wedding dress.
I'm still wearing it, and it's covered in dirt and blood, even torn in a few places.
“Mrs. Rigast,” he clears his throat again, visibly uncomfortable with my last name as he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “Do you know anything about Darkvis's plans or Miss Jones's mysterious death?”
I roll my eyes and let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking my head.
Does he really think I'm going to talk?
“Even if that were the case, what makes you think I'd tell you?” I raise an eyebrow, stunned by his question.
He sighs and pulls out his wand. I immediately tense, preparing to get hit by a spell I already know will be painful, but my torment never comes.
He moves his wand and a chair appears next to him, directly in front of me.
I frown and watch him sit down, putting his wand back in the pocket of his plum-colored suit jacket.
His blue eyes inspect me from head to toe and then settle on a specific point.
When I follow his gaze, I tense further.
The runes of the Master's Mark are visible through the torn fabric of my dress.
“I know you had no choice but to take the Trace, my child. You no longer have to fear Darkvis and his followers. You can tell me anything, I promise you will be safe.”
I giggle and roll my eyes again.
Lies.
O'Connor and his followers don't give a fuck about any of us. If they did, would he be carrying out attacks on towns and villages where the Master's disciples live?
No.
They don't just kill those with the Trace during these raids.
Oh no.
They also kill women and children without blinking.
Innocent people.
“Aelys,” he says again, his voice too exaggeratedly soft to be sincere. “We know they forced you to marry his son. We can help you. You will be free from this life, free from suffering.”
I look away, focusing my gaze on the wooden door. My jaw clenched and my nails digging into the armrest of the chair I'm strapped to until I'm bleeding.
They think they know everything. They know nothing.
I don't believe his kindness for a second. All he wants is for me to respond, then they'll send me to the Iron City where criminals are locked up by our leaders. After all, I carry the Dark Mage's Mark. If they don't throw me in prison, I'll be executed.
“Please, Aelys, tell me everything you know,” he places his hand on my knee and I freeze.
My irises land on him and I glare at him through gritted teeth. “Get your hand off of me. Now!” I growl.
He clears his throat but does as I ask, slowly interlacing his fingers in his lap.
He opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, the door bursts open, banging loudly against the wall.
We both look to see who's entered the room, I tense at the sight of a very angry Rick Law, wand gripped in his hand, his blue eyes filled with murderous rage fixed on me.
“Did she speak?” He growls.
O'Connor mutters a 'no', narrowing his eyes as he watches him, and for a second I'm afraid Law might break his wand as his grip on it tightens. He takes a step forward, the professor stands up, frowning and one hand raised in an attempt to stop him.
“Mr. Law,” he says in a low, warning voice.
He ignores it and pushes past him, pointing his wand at me. I lift my chin, smile devilishly, raise an eyebrow, silently taunting him for doing so. It's stupid, considering Mattheo and I haven't been able to start my training yet, but I'm not going to show them weakness.
He snarls angrily and presses the tip of his wand painfully against my throat, forcing my head back further.
The pressure isn't hard enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt.
I stand impassive, my eyes burning with hatred and defiance, waiting for him to actually do it.
But he doesn't have the courage, he's a coward.
“You know what really happened to Lucy,” he growls. “She never touched drugs. She would never have done them willingly. Someone must have spiked her drink at the party. Give me a name.”
I don't say a word, my smirk still curling my lips, which only makes him angrier. My heart is pounding, but I don't let them see how terrified I am.
“Fuck, tell me, bitch!” He cries out, his eyes wide with despair that makes him look almost like a mad man.
I don't flinch, my eyes still fixed on his. He pushes his wand deeper into my throat, but when he sees I still don't react, he grunts in frustration and backs away. I slightly tilt my head and look at him, clearly amused by his cowardice. This is exactly why they'll never win this war.
O'Connor starts to walk towards me, his mouth open, but he doesn't get a chance to speak as Law shouts 'patiens', his wand pointed at me. My whole body tenses, I start to convulse in the chair, my jaw clenched so tightly my teeth hurt, but I forbid any sound from escaping my lips.
I close my eyes so they can't see them rolling backward in pain and dig my nails harder into the armrest of the chair, feeling them break under the pressure, blood slowly seeping from my fingertips. It feels like my bones are breaking one by one and my blood has turned to molten lava.
The pain is so intense that I barely hear the teacher yell at him to stop before the spell breaks and I collapse limply onto the chair, only held in a sitting position by the ropes binding me.
Then a dull thud echoes through the room.
I muster what little strength I have left, ignoring how fast my heart is beating and how my body is shaking with pain.
After several failures, I manage to open my eyes enough to see that the professor has been thrown across the room and is clearly unconscious in a corner.
Law has cast a spell on him. No one can stop him from torturing me now.
I look down at the boy towering over me, his face impassive, my heart skipping a beat.
I can taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and sweat trickling down my face.
The trembling from the pain of his torture still hasn't stopped, and I swear I feel a strange tingling sensation deep in my gut.
Law grabs my chin harshly, I bite my tongue to keep from wincing in pain. My gaze hardens when I meet his angry one.
“Tell me who killed Lucy!” He screams.
I spit the blood from my mouth in his face in response, he angrily wipes it away with the back of his hand before slapping me.
My head tilts to the side from the force of his slap, but again, no sound escapes my lips as I grit my teeth to stifle the whimper of pain I'm dying to let out.
My cheek burns, and I'm sure my skin is already red.
I will never let him see how much I am suffering.
I shoot him a venomous glare and wait to see what he'll do. I have to admit I misjudged him. He's not the coward I thought he was.
He repeats his question, but I remain stubbornly silent, my hateful gaze fixed on him. He grits his teeth before letting his wand clatter against the stone floor of the room. His fist connects with my jaw, I close my eyes to push away the dizziness the force of his blow has caused.
I don't have time to breathe before another blow lands on my right cheekbone, followed by a second one on my sternum.
My breath catches, the pain radiating through my being and blood flooding my mouth.
I manage to spit to the side to keep from choking on my own blood just before another blow lands on me, this time on my left eye.
I bite my tongue to hold back grunts of pain, only letting out a few whimpers each time his fist connects with my flesh. The strange tingling sensation in my gut has now turned into an unpleasant but not painful tugging.
As Law lands yet another blow to my temple, my eyelids flutter shut and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. Yet before my senses completely leave me, I swear I feel my bones painfully crack and hear an animal howl echo through the small stone room.
A low grunt of pain escapes me as I slowly regain consciousness. I try to open my eyes or move, but my eyelids are heavy and my body is too sore to even try. I focus on my other senses: hearing and touch.