20. All for Show
Chapter twenty
All for Show
T he scent of alcohol burned her nose. Washing away the stench of blood as Solveig fought through the fog clogging her mind.
“Easy there,” a gentle voice commanded. “You’re in the temple infirmary. You’re safe.” Gabriel ran a hand down her arm in what she imagined he thought was a calming caress, but to her was akin to being scrubbed with pumice stone.
She opened her eyes to stark white walls, cabinets filled with little glass vials and gleaming instruments. They’d changed her out of her lush velvet gown into the pale blue and white smock of the acolytes, her own dress having been spoiled with blood. She paused as fragments of images returned.
Blood.
Coughing.
The Oracle invading her mind, ripping away her power, in payment for keeping her secrets. It all came back in a rush, her heart rate ticking up slightly.
“Take it easy Solveig. I don’t want to put you under again.” Gabriel murmured; his voice was cold as steel. His grip tightened around her wrist.
“Don’t you dare steal my air again, Gabriel Orson.”
“You’re angry at me for that? I was helping you come down from that ridiculous panic,” he spat, all pretence at warmth abandoned now.
“You could have killed me.”
“I guess I won’t be getting a thank you then?”
“It should be thanks enough that you don’t have my death on your hands.” Solveig tried to sit, only to find she couldn’t move. Her eyes narrowed on Gabriel.
“LET. ME. UP.”
“I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action.”
“Gabriel Orson, I am a Princess of Torrelin, and I command you to release me at once.”
“Your orders mean nothing here, Solveig, you know that.”
“And if The Oracle commanded you to release me, would you?” she challenged.
Gabriel smirked. “Father is the voice of The Oracle, and you are here under his orders.”
They stared each other down. Solveig picturing all the ways she could slowly flay him with her daggers. Gabriel mentally listing all the reasons he was going through with this sham engagement.
“Where’s your ring?”
“Lying in the mud at Luxenal.”
“That ring cost…” Gabriel gritted his teeth, one hand fisting. “Forget it.” He blew out a breath. “I’ll get you a new one by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, dearest.”
“You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me, Solveig. We were friends once.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled to be held against my will.”
Gabriel softened slightly at her words, releasing his grip on her wrist.
“You saw it again, didn’t you?” He sighed. “Aldrik’s d…”
“If you value your tongue, you won’t dare finish that sentence.”
“It’s been four years; don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”
She knew he was right, but old memories died hard, and the death of loved ones were some of the hardest to set free. Gabriel stood when she did not respond, heading for the door.
“Your family returned to the castle as scheduled, an acolyte posing as you travelled with them. We’re under orders to keep you here until mid-eve, so you may as well enjoy the rest whilst you can.”
The day passed slowly, though the pressure of Gabriel’s Aire lifted, another’s soon replaced it. They kept her tied to the bed, under the watch of at least one temple acolyte, often more.
Gabriel returned at sundown, relieving the acolyte to allow them to attend evening worship.
“I was thinking you’d forgotten about me,” Solveig gritted.
“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be happy to see me again.”
“You’ve had me trapped in this bed all day with only silent acolytes for company. I’m about to lose my mind.”
“Sorry, love, but you know your family. How’d you think they’d react if I let you wander around the temple all day for anyone to see? Appearance is everything to them, isn’t it?”
“I thought you said it was Leader Ezekiel who ordered me to remain here,” Solveig stated with narrowed eyes.
“He did. Your parents requested it, and Father agreed it was best.”
“What’s best would be you allowing me the ability to visit a bathing room in private,” she seethed, changing tack. It was clear she wouldn’t be able to get Gabriel to talk.
He had the decency to appear sheepish.
“Right, of course.” He coughed and almost immediately, the weight lifted from her chest. She stretched out her arms and leaped from the bed, swaying slightly on her feet.
“To your left, second door on the right,” Gabriel called after her. Solveig merely waved a hand in his direction as she made a beeline for the door, heading in the opposite direction. Back toward the shadowed room that hid the crude device behind its locked door.
She wasn’t sure what her plan was. Destroy it, inspect it, steal it. But she knew she had to do something useful whilst they had her trapped here. As she approached the door, chills skittered down her spine, as though The Oracle was watching her every move. The door was locked, not surprising, but thankfully a locked door had never stopped her before. Sure, Solveig didn’t have her lock picking tools with her, but she could make do with what she had, a few pins and some patience. The only thing she didn’t have was time.
She pulled two pins from the hair style Teris had constructed that morning, kneeling beside the door. Listening for every twist, clang, and snick of the locking barrel as she manoeuvred its inner workings. Anxiety peaked as the lock fought against her. It felt as though hours had passed by the time she heard the final click, allowing the door to swing open, revealing a pitch-dark room beyond it. There was no glow, no blue, no green, nothing.
The cube was gone, the pedestal with it.
“Looking for something?”
Solveig spun, brandishing the pins as though they were daggers.
“I got lost.” She shrugged, eyeing the shadowy figure of Gabriel Orson as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his face concealed by the darkness.
“And you thought you’d have to break into the bathing room?” He stalked to her, leaning in as he grasped her arm.
“What exactly did you plan on doing when you found it?” he asked, his grip tightening to the point of pain as Solveig tried to pull her arm free.
“I was looking for the bathing room,” she insisted.
“Right,” Gabriel scoffed. “And I’m the Prince of Elithiend.”
The thought was so absurd that Solveig had to stifle her laugh in case it angered him further. The prince had a reputation almost as long and twisted as hers. His entire kingdom did. Here in the north, it was merely a distant memory. A myth whispered over campfires. But from Rialtus Keep to the south, the whirlpools and rocky seas that surrounded them were all too real.
Gabriel dragged Solveig unceremoniously back into the infirmary. Ripping all the remaining pins he could find from her hair.
“I can’t stand and watch you constantly, and I won’t punish an acolyte by forcing them to miss their duties to babysit you either,” he said before locking the door and shielding it with a thick layer of weighted Aire, blocking out all sound and rendering any hope of escape futile. She could break the door down if she wanted, but she would never make it past his shield without Aire magic of her own.