Chapter 34 A Broken Soldier
A brOKEN SOLDIER
“I hate askin, Gregor. I know yu have nothin left to give, and stil I ask. But when yu stoped writing, I new . . . I’d asked too much. I’m sory. I just didn’ know who else too turn to. You’re all I hav.”
—Linnéa Fenrówe, in a letter never sent
Gregor
The carriage jolts again, and I grip the edge of my seat, trying not to let the fear show.
The cloth over my eyes, trapping me in darkness, has grown filthy.
My body aches from the bruises, and the air smells of damp earth.
Each bump rattles my bones, but it’s not the pain that terrifies me. It’s the waiting.
Bard’s voice, calm and sharp as always, cuts through the sound of the moving carriage. “Remember, Gregor,” he says, “your sister’s life is in your hands. One wrong move, and she pays the price.”
I swallow hard, tasting the salt of sweat on my lips.
His words make it hard to breathe, and my hands tremble despite my effort to steady them.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur. I know what failure means.
I’ve failed before—in the military, with my family, in everything—but this .
. . If I fail here, I won’t just lose again. I’ll lose Linnéa.
I will arrive in ávera and meet Noel and the vólkins.
Noel . . .
I can’t stop thinking about her. She was always so .
. . unreachable. I admired her strength, her confidence.
Even when I tried to keep my distance, I found myself watching her at the base.
There was something about the way she never let anyone push her around.
I envied her for it. Maybe even more than envied . . .
I could never get those thoughts out of my head, so I buried them deep. I was nothing but a soldier, and she was a sergeant. She’d never see me like that.
But now, I wonder if she’ll even recognize me.
I cannot help the sigh that escapes my lips.
My sister, the last time I saw her. She was saying her goodbyes to me, wearing her worn-out tunic. “Don’t worry about me, Gregor. You go to Tárnov, find a better life. I’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. I left her behind, and now her life hangs by a thread because of me. I failed you, Linnéa.
The carriage slows, and my breath quickens, my pulse drumming in my ears. My body tenses in anticipation of the next horror. “Have we arrived?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice composed.
Bard yanks the cloth from my eyes, and the sudden brightness stabs at my vision.
“Not yet, my dear Gregor.” The cold edge of his voice turns my stomach.
Before I can respond, the door opens, and more of Bard’s men pile into the carriage.
I try to move, but my body is too weak. Bard’s face hovers close to mine, his smile a twisted lie of kindness.
“We need to make you look convincing, Gregor. After all, you’ve ‘escaped’ us, haven’t you?
” He grabs my jaw and continues, “Need to make you presentable for our dear Noel and her new friends.”
The men fall on me, their fists slamming into my ribs and my face relentlessly, breaking me down inch by inch. My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood, and my vision blurs. I barely manage to suppress my screams as they shove the filthy rag into my mouth to muffle the sound.
The beating drags on, but the real torment doesn’t begin until they force the crystal into me.
They made me practice this over and over, stripping me of any last shred of dignity.
The first time they handed me the crystal, I froze.
My body rejected it, my mind screamed, but their fists gave me no choice.
The second time, I wept. The third, I was numb.
The healer’s cold grin, the way the others watched .
. . it still makes my skin crawl. And it pulses, this damn thing, every few days it fucking pulses.
Reminding me that no matter how far I go, they’ll always have a hold on me.
When they finally stop, I’m left crumpled on the carriage floor, unable to move. My body is broken, but the worst pain is inside me. The humiliation, the knowledge that I am nothing but a tool.
Bard crouches beside me. “There. Now, you look like you have escaped.”
They throw me out of the carriage and onto the ground. My legs wobble, only just able to hold my weight.
Bard kneels beside me again, this time pulling something from his pocket. My heart stops.
It’s Linnéa’s necklace.
Tears well up in my eyes. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
They have her. THEY FUCKING HAVE HER!
Bard pockets the necklace. “Don’t forget, Gregor. Do not fail.”
He jerks his chin toward the trees, commanding me to move.
With a weak nod, I stumble into the forest. Every step is agony, but I push forward.