Chapter 7 Arwyn
ARWYN
Iwoke strapped to a chair in the middle of a large empty space. If my hands weren’t tied to the arms of the chair I would’ve reached up to my chest, fingers desperate to reach for the multitude of holes gifted from the guards beyond my room as they rained bullets upon me.
A snarl broke out of me as I strained against my bindings. No matter how hard I fought against them, they didn’t budge. It wasn’t twine or rope that held me in place, but thick metallic bands that rubbed my skin raw.
It was easy to panic, but instincts took over. My dad, the monster he was, had moulded me to be focused during times of duress. So, I took a deep breath in and focused on the details. No matter how small, they could help me get out of this unscathed.
My eyes took everything in. I was no longer inside my bedroom, that much was clear. It looked like this large space was some sort of old aeroplane hangar with a domed roof, the sheer size of the space dwarfed in shadow.
That wasn’t the only detail that disturbed me.
Bahmet was silent. It was as if someone had taken a knife and carved the demon out of my soul. And yet, somehow, I knew he was still lingering. Only he’d been snuffed out like a candle.
“Hello?” I called out, keeping my voice steady.
“Well, good morning. Our prince has awoken.” The voice that replied was light, and unrecognisable.
What followed it was the methodical tap of heels against old stone.
I strained to get a look over my shoulder to watch a middle-aged woman slink out of the darkness.
I’d never seen her before, or at least my memory didn’t offer me anything to grasp.
And yet there was something entirely familiar about her.
Warm brown skin, bright inquisitive eyes, and a head of braids the colour of gold and brown.
I toyed with the multitude of questions to ask the stranger, but she got one out first.
“How are you feeling?”
My snarl broke into a feral hiss. “Is your question supposed to be a joke?”
“Not at all.” She lifted her finger and clicked manicured nails.
As the sound echoed around the barren hangar, a new noise interrupted.
The squeak of wheels, and the shuffle of booted feet.
I followed it with my eyes until I saw two Witch Hunters, both armed with impressively large guns.
They pushed what looked like an old box towards me.
The closer it got, the more I saw that that was exactly what it was.
A television.
“I think you could make your own assumption as to how I am,” I snapped, looking down at the torn mess of my shirt. My skin was marred with bruises, but there were no holes. Whatever I was shot with wasn’t your typical bullet, clearly.
The woman clicked her tongue. “I’m merely inquiring into how you are feeling because you were shot, then pumped full of enough thistlebane to poison the entire Thames river.
It was a risk, to give you so much, but then again it would seem you have a knack for surviving things that should kill you.
” Her heels clicked until she came to stand directly before me.
“Am I not allowed to be worried about you, Arwyn?”
“Mind freeing my hands so I can catch a fuck in my palm to give you?” I leaned forwards, nails gouging wood as the urge to fight my way free burned beneath my skin.
“Ouch,” she replied, nose scrunching. “That’s not a nice thing to say to me.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
She smiled, and for a moment I almost choked. That smile, the genuine way it lit up her chestnut eyes, warmed her cheeks, filled my head with another person. “All in good time, Arwyn. But for now, there is something I would like you to watch.”
The television was positioned before me. I eyed both the guards, wondering if they were the ones who’d shot me. Neither looked familiar, but they feared me nonetheless. I smelt it on them, oozing from pores as they eyed me, hands never straying from the hilt of their guns.
I’d fear me too. The unkillable, demon-infested half-witch. Son to their dictator, and heir to this entire fucking freak show. And yet, I wanted no part of it. And I gathered my father had worked that out now… hence the metal bindings.
“Where’s Tomin?” I asked, the resentment in my voice echoed back to me as it rose into the ceilings of the hangar.
“Him? Well, he’s rushing down to London,” she replied, sweeping braids over her shoulder.
“As you can imagine, your little act of deceit earlier has caused a bit of a headache for your dad. Although I have to give it to him, he is vigorous when it comes to his plans. Tomin doesn’t trust you, and for good reason as we see. ”
“That’s a long-winded way of admitting he had a backup plan.”
“A backup plan to his backup plan… so on and so on. Yes. Meticulous.”
And yet she didn’t look impressed when she said it.
“Now.” The woman leaned in close, hands on the arms of the chair, not an ounce of fear in her expression. “Do you care to tell me all about your sins regarding the Briar boy? Any information you share may just save him some pain down the line.”
So, they knew about Hector. I had hoped I’d sent him back into the shadows before the guards saw him, but now I wasn’t entirely sure. Considering they knew he’d been in my room, which likely suggested they knew I’d told Hector about the planned attack.
I leaned in closer too until my nose brushed hers. “I wouldn’t threaten him if I was you.”
“Ah,” she replied. “I thought you’d say something along those lines. You don’t fancy an open and frank conversation then?”
For good measure I sunk my teeth into the insides of my cheeks, acting as anchors for silence, pinching so hard until my tongue was lathered with blood.
“Okay then.” She withdrew. “Silence it is. Then I will tell you what I know. Your room has been bugged for weeks now. Cameras, microphones… the works. We know all about the thistlebane you’ve been taking, although it took some insight from our friends in the White Tower to explain the effect it would be having on you.
Then there were the nights you’d slip out in shadow, only to return hours later.
Those were the strangest of your acts, considering you had the chance to escape but never took it.
I urged your father not to punish you, but instead to pretend like he didn’t know what you were doing.
And thank God he did, otherwise you may never have communed with Hector Briar…
may never have led us to him. Patience is not a trait your father has, but for me you see, I have enough of it for the both of us. And he listens to me.”
My blood turned to ice as the woman spoke.
A torrent of emotion flooded every limb, muscle and bone in my body, until I was a puppet for it.
A useless puppet with no means to act out.
But what made matters worse was I’d dragged Hector into this—I’d put him under threat once again, all because I was desperate to see him.
I could tell myself it was to warn him against my father’s plans, but I knew the truth deep down.
“Was your speech an attempt to set me at unease?” I asked.
Because it worked, but I wouldn’t let her think that for a second.
“How you react to information makes no difference to me,” she said. “All I care about is information. All that concerns me is making sure Tomin gets the answers he seeks. Starting with Hector, and if you think he believed what you told him?”
I shrugged, as much as the bindings allowed. “You said the room was bugged. I’m sure you saw just what Hector thinks of me.”
She smiled, a sickly yet sweet grin. “Oh, I saw.”
Her confirmation set a rock to fall in my gut.
“So, Tomin has rushed to London to fix his plans that I’ve fucked up?” I asked, allowing the ounce of pride to seep into my tone. “I hope it causes him a bastard of a headache.”
She cocked her head to the side, one hand on her hip, a look of almost pity creased across her face.
“Did you not hear me a moment ago? I said your father has plans on plans. Your betrayal, although a slight thorn in the works, has not caused many problems considering we’ve expected it from day one.
If anything, you’ve done us a very big favour. ”
Mouth parched, a rush of blood flooded down through my skull. “And you are here to rub that in my face.”
“Exactly!” she said with a chipper smile.
“In fact, I thought we could have a little watch of something before we continue this chat. Bonding time.” She moved with agile grace, nails drumming her palms as she reached towards the old television.
The screen lit in a static fuzz once she pressed a large black button.
She took her time fiddling with the remote control until the static screen was replaced with a soundless moving images.
“It isn’t every day you can see the repercussions of one’s actions, and how it affects people that you don’t even know. ”
I leaned forwards as much as the chair allowed, not caring for the burning rub of my wrists and the metal bindings. “What is this?”
“Apologies about the lack of sound,” she added, thinking that was where my confusion came from. “It’s an old TV, you will just need to watch it and make some sense of what’s happening. Although I’m sure it will be rather self-explanatory…”
The scene before me kept changing. Sometimes it was videos filmed on phone cameras, the video shaking as if someone was running.
Then it would change to a bird’s eye view of London—the Tower of London to be exact.
It was engulfed in smoke and fire, an entire portion of the building completely destroyed.
People ran from the ruin like ants scuttling to safety, weaving around a carpet of bodies strewn across the ground, pools of blood so vibrant in colour that the camera could pick it up from afar.