Chapter Seven
Lena
Lena Drask stood at the open window, holding the curtains nearly closed against the sluggish breeze that tried to pry them open.
She peered through the tiny space between the curtains and down at the lantern-lit courtyard.
Commander Vor, her captor and tormentor, stood amid the bustle of soldiers and machinery.
He pointed as he gave orders, often glancing her way as if he could see her through the fabric.
But that wasn't possible. With it being night and the lights in the sitting room off, she'd be concealed in darkness even if she had the curtains drawn open.
Yet he still looked her way. Perhaps he was merely thinking about her.
And why did that send an excited tremor down her spine?
A week had passed since Vor had brought her to the fortress.
She had tried to leave the room the first time that Vor left her alone, but he'd left a guard at her door.
By the time he returned that night, a key lock had been installed on the outside and the inside of the door.
That meant the door could be locked from either side, and Vor was the only one with a key.
With the new locks, Vor didn't feel the need to insist on Lena accompanying him when he showered anymore.
He just locked the door with his key and took the key into the bathroom with him.
That was a good thing. She didn't have to watch him undress or stand beneath the spray of water, his body glistening.
Lena especially was relieved that she didn't have to watch him touch himself—there.
It was bad enough that the memory of his body and the things he casually did to it haunted her.
To have to experience it again and again would have driven her mad.
For the first few nights, Lena had lain awake, terrified of Vor sliding into bed with her.
But he had slept on the couch with the door shut between them.
By the third night, she relaxed, but sleep still evaded her.
She kept thinking about her captor and how ridiculously respectful he was with her.
She hadn't left their rooms for the entire week, but Vor returned to share every meal with her, and after dinner, he would sit with her before the fire and tell her stories of his life underground and his years in the army.
Lena rarely spoke, even when he asked her direct questions.
She didn't want to know about his life. It was making her sympathetic to him, and that wasn't fair.
She was a prisoner. How dare he try to make her love him? It was insane!
Vor once more looked up at Lena's window, the lamplight shining on his metal arm.
He paused so long that the soldier he was speaking to leaned into his view to get Vor's attention.
The commander flinched and jerked back into action, issuing his directives once more.
He moved with confidence and more grace than a man of metal should possess.
Lena knew she should walk away, but she remained at the window. What else was there to do?
Vor strode about the courtyard like a predator, and Lena couldn't help but admire that feral grace and authority.
Everyone rushed to do his bidding, often inclining their heads or even bowing before they hurried off.
Vor had rearranged the courtyard the very first day, ordering soldiers to mount war machines upon the walls despite the ward shimmering just beyond them.
Crates of ammunition stood stacked near the walls.
Without convergence, the Nethren had to use projectiles in their weapons instead of energy, and those projectiles were called ammunition.
They ranged in size from the tiny metal projectiles used in their handheld weapons to the massive munitions their war machines used.
Lena had learned a lot about war during the last week.
It was one of the few things she'd speak to Vor about, and he was so eager to talk to her that he'd answer all of her questions.
He even explained his tactics to her. There were daily attacks made on the Paradefense camp, but they targeted Paradefense's blasters and other large weaponry instead of soldiers.
Vor's goal was to make peace with Paradefense, and killing their people wouldn't help his cause.
Lena still wasn't sure if she believed him about Nethren wanting peace. It seemed impossible. But every day, she saw more and more proof that the things she'd believed for all her life were false.
With a sigh, Lena turned away from the window.
The suddenly freed curtains flapped in the breeze, giving her one last glimpse of Vor.
He was turning sharply toward her as if he felt her retreat.
Her heart leaped at that small action, and that angered her.
Lena wasn't a woman prone to anger, and the constant sway into that burning territory was giving her a sour stomach.
The worst part was that she was angrier at herself than she was at Vor. And confused. Really confused.
Lena now knew for certain that Nethren didn't kill magic.
She'd seen too much to deny it. But she couldn't imagine the Medean council allying with the Aethari against the Nethren for no reason.
It would have been better for everyone if there were peace with the Nethren.
Then there would be no need to have fortresses.
Medeans and Aethari had died defending the surface of Para.
It couldn't be for nothing. There had to be a reason.
After turning on the overhead lights, Lena went to sit on the longest couch, facing the door. She blinked. Two locks. There were two locks on the door now. One needed a key, but the other was a lever that slid a bolt into the doorframe. Why hadn't she noticed that before?
With a wicked grin, Lena got up and went to the door.
She threw the lever, locking Vor out. A rush of excitement that she couldn't explain ran through her.
Confused by it, she nonetheless refused to analyze it on her way back to the couch.
Lena flopped onto the cushions. Captivity was boring.
At least she wasn't shivering and starving in a cell.
But sitting alone for hours, stomach churning over the future, wasn't great either. So, she began to sing.
It was a way to pass the time but also to comfort herself.
Lena had always sung when scared. From as far back as she could remember, music had been a security blanket for her.
Once, she'd gotten lost while her family was on a hike.
Her mother said they found her because of her singing.
Lena had been curled up against a tree, singing a cheerful song as she stared up into the branches.
Lena wanted to sing a cheerful song again.
It would help to lift her spirits. But what came out of her was a love song.
Startled, she nonetheless continued to weave the tale of two lovers separated by distance.
The pain of their separation quickly transformed into the joy of reunion, and that gave her some happiness to cling to.
Lena lifted her voice to rejoice with the lovers, her soul lifting as well.
Until the door handle turned.
Her song broke. Lena drew back against the couch, her gaze locked on the door as the handle jiggled and the door shook.
“Lena!” Vor shouted through the door. “Open the door!”
Lena stood up but didn't move further.
“Lena,” Vor's voice went low. “This is foolish. Open the door, or I'll be forced to break it down.” A pause. “Lena!”
She flinched and then rushed to the door. Hand hovering over the lever, she froze.
“Lena, I know you're standing there,” his voice sank into a velvety tone. “It's all right. I'm not angry. I understand that you're scared, and you saw a way to protect yourself. But I'm back now. I will protect you. So, you need to open the door.”
Her hand lowered to the lock.
“Please don't make me break down this door. It will scare you, and I don't want to do that.”
Lena unlocked the door and then ran into the bathroom. She slammed the bathroom door shut seconds after she heard the main door open. Footsteps came as she threw the lock. Then she backed away.
“Are you teasing me?” Vor called through the bathroom door.
“I'm going to bathe,” Lena said. “Leave me alone!”
“Very well. I've brought you some more clothes. I'll leave them here. When you're done, we can have dinner together.”
And then his footsteps retreated.
With a shuddering sigh, Lena turned toward the mirror. A wide-eyed woman with flushed cheeks stared back at her. Her heartbeat was starting to slow down. She had expected Vor to at least threaten to break down the bathroom door. But he had left. The door was locked. She was alone. Safe.
Hands shaking, Lena removed the clothing he'd given her—taken from the closet of an imprisoned Medean soldier. She felt bad for wearing the woman's clothes while she was in the stockade. Or worse.
“Oh, sweet convergence.” Lena dropped the clothing and stared at the pile. What if the woman were dead? Was she wearing a dead woman's clothing? “Ugh! Stop it! It doesn't matter. It's this, or you stink.”
Lena took off her underwear and stoppered the sink.
She'd been washing her panties every night rather than wear a stranger's.
The bra was fine, but wearing another woman's panties was just gross.
She dunked her panties in the water, soaped them up, rinsed them, and wrung them in a towel.
She left them hanging on the towel bar. Then Lena turned on the shower.
After the water warmed up, she stepped under the spray, shut the shower door, and bathed quickly.
She didn't trust that Vor wouldn't come bursting in.
Despite her worries, the wet heat soothed her and relaxed her tight muscles.
Lena wanted to stay in the shower longer, but her anxiety wouldn't allow it. She turned off the water and got out.