Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
I’m left alone again, Margo having retreated with her finished painting.
I curl up in my small, shitty bed on the floor and think about everywhere Kalos and I have wandered so far.
Margo and Seth were obviously having us watched in some way.
I don’t remember seeing anyone following us (especially not in the swamp) so they must have some other way of observing us.
I think about that, and I think about how often we took the roads, all the people we passed.
I think about the times we ate at an inn or stopped so I could talk to some farmer about directions.
Did we infect all those people?
Did I? Because I’m the one who’s done all the talking while Kalos has stayed a fair distance away, his shockingly silver hair hidden by his hood.
Margo must be lying to me. Kalos would know how I would feel about spreading disease. He wouldn’t want to do that…would he? Or did I just assume he knew how I felt and never bothered to set down hard and fast ground rules? If we’re spreading disease, is he even aware of it?
I have so many questions and no answers, and as every minute ticks past in my dark, dank cell, I grow angrier at Margo. She—and Seth—are the reason I’m trapped here. I can’t do anything to help the situation if I’m stuck in a jail cell.
Someone eventually comes to the door with a tray laden with food, a bundle of blankets, and a warm, long-sleeved woolen dress I can slip over my clothing. I put it on and wrap myself in the new, thicker blanket.
“When is Margo coming back?” I demand of the men bringing the supplies.
They just shrug at me, and it isn’t until after they’ve left that I remember I was supposed to attack them. Shit. Margo has me so rattled I’ve forgotten my own escape plan. Angry at myself, I wash my hands and stew even as I devour the bread, chicken, and vegetables with my fingers.
When the door opens again, I jerk to my feet. I wasn’t expecting anyone to return so quickly. I glance around for the pitcher, but it’s still full of water I’ve been saving in case no one was coming back tonight.
Instead of just one or two guards this time, there are eight. I count heads as they file into my cell, my heart dropping. They’re wearing armor and a tabard of deep blue, which I’m guessing is Seth’s color. One steps forward and holds out manacles. “Put these on and come with us.”
“Really?” I blurt out, my annoyance getting the better of me despite my fear. “Chains?”
“It’s just a…” He pauses, frowning, and looks at one of the other guards.
“Seth calls it a ‘safety treasure’,” the man says.
The guard turns back to me. “Safety treasure.”
“I think you mean safety measure,” I say, but hold my wrists out. “And I can’t go anywhere because Kalos is somewhere nearby and I’m bound to him. Where do you think I would go?”
The guard doesn’t reply. None of them do.
They just clasp my wrists in the manacles.
One puts a hand on my back. I jerk away, snarling, until he gets the idea that I don’t want to be touched.
Not by him. After that, they box me in and lead me up a dark, narrow stairwell.
The railing is a rope, and the steps are tall and awkward, and it’s lit by torchlight, which makes for an unnerving experience.
I’m led down another hall, also filled with guards in uniform, and I grow more unsettled by the moment.
The walls of this place are just as narrow and oppressive as the stairwell, made of heavy stone and poorly lit.
This stronghold is giving me serious claustrophobia, and I wonder if Margo likes it or if she finds it as oppressive as I do.
There’s a large, heavy door at the end of the hall—guarded, of course—and one of the men opens it and I’m escorted in.
The room here is large, with more torches and a big, warm fire blazing in an enormous carved fireplace.
Several high-backed chairs are situated near the fireplace, and I see Margo and a strange man seated next to her.
“There’s our guest of honor,” says the strange man, who must be Seth.
He doesn’t look how I expected, but I’m not entirely sure what I thought he’d look like.
He’s handsome, in a sly, sharp sort of way.
His features are both chiseled and foxlike, his eyes narrow and long.
His smooth jaw is square but delicate, with high cheekbones and his hair is cut short, like I might see on a Hollywood actor, dark and artfully rakish.
“Are you Seth?” I ask, drawing myself up to my full height and straightening my back. “Here I thought you’d have an evil goatee and a mustache to twirl.”
Margo chortles.
Seth shoots her an irritated look.
“Told you,” is all she says, but she seems highly amused at my comment.
“Margo told me all about you,” I continue, and that shuts both of them up.
Seth’s eyes narrow while Margo’s expression becomes guarded.
Interesting. Did she spill something she wasn’t supposed to, then?
I’m going to have to mentally go over our conversation again.
For now, I hold my wrists out. “You want us to work with you both, but this is a cruddy way of winning our trust. Free me.”
Seth’s smile returns. “You can leave at any time.”
“I’m in chains.” I rattle them to prove my point.
“Chew your way free if you don’t like your cell. Anchors don’t need hands to serve.”
My jaw drops. “You are really something else.”
“Thank you,” he says smoothly. “And now that you’re here, be seated and be quiet. Kalos will be joining us soon.”
The chains on my wrists are heavy and pull at my skin, no matter how I twist them. I grunt in frustration. “Why would I be quiet? I want to talk to Kalos. Alone.”
“You can, later. As for now, you’ll be silent. Because if you speak up, I won’t give you the antidote to the poison that was in your food.”
I stop.
That fucker. He wouldn’t dare.
Margo drops her gaze, her expression slightly pained.
Did…did they really poison me? Again? Or is it just a ploy to get me to be silent when Kalos arrives?
I genuinely don’t know, and that’s the terrifying part.
I eye Margo for a while longer, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
I let my chains go and drop my hands. It’s not as if they’re afraid to use poison to get their way. I have no choice but to believe them.
“Good. Bring her a seat,” Seth says. He gestures at one of the guards and turns his gaze back to me. “Just so you know, if you try anything, I will have my guards kill you. If you aren’t with us, then you’re better off removed from play entirely. Understand?”
I nod, frightened. Is Kalos okay? I want to ask, but I’m afraid to speak up.
As a high-backed chair is brought for me, it’s set a distance away from the others, and Margo’s chair is moved back an equal amount, mimicking mine.
A guard stands behind hers, and as I sit down, a guard moves behind me.
I’m not surprised when I feel the prick of a blade tip against my lower back.
Some fucking allies.
I have no idea how they think this is going to work. Bully Kalos into working with them? Sweet-talk him? The moment we’re alone, I’m going to tell him what’s going on. Or do they think I’m not important to him in the scheme of things, and that’s why they can lock me up?
Or do they plan on killing us anyhow?
Seth returns to his chair and flicks his cloak out over his elegant deep blue robe. “Send someone to bring down Kalos. Tell him we request the honor of his presence.”
One of the guards disappears, heading out a different door than I came in.
Silence echoes in the room and we all stare at each other. Margo whispers something but Seth ignores it, and she makes a face at his back.
The guard returns a moment later, a worried look on his face. He drops to one knee in front of Seth. “He will not answer the door, my lord. I can hear his goat, but the god will not respond to my knocking.”
It’s probably one of his bad days. My heart aches for Kalos, but I try not to let my expression reveal anything.
“Then don’t knock,” Seth bites out. “Open the door and tell him the god Seth demands to speak with him. Now.”
The soldier hesitates again, face pale, but he nods and jumps to his feet again, heading back out. I pick at my fingernails, anxious. The doors open, and the soldier returns, two steps ahead of Kalos.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since we’ve been apart, and I’m struck by his presence.
Seth has a dark sort of miasma to his presence, as if you feel slightly dirty breathing in the air around him.
I don’t feel like that with Kalos. When I look at him, I see power and strength, but I don’t find it unpleasant.
It just convinces me even more that he’s not a bad guy. Not like Seth.
He’s not in chains. In fact, he looks rather nice.
He’s had a bath since I last saw him, and his clothes are fresh and clean.
He’s wearing dark gray pants and a billowy tunic with long, cuffed sleeves that flow as he strides forward, and a high collar that caresses his throat. There’s no sign of Dingle anywhere.
His gaze flicks over me, oh-so-briefly, and lands on Seth and Margo.
I’m disappointed that this is the only acknowledgment I get. Did he not miss me? Worry about me? Or am I just another Dingle to him, a mortal creature prancing around and annoying him for the occasional head-scratch? The thought hurts.
Why do I even bother?
I should know my place. He’s a god and I’m the hired help that took the job because no one else would. I need to lower my expectations. I need to forget about his rare smiles and that kiss we shared. I’m not here to get romantic.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. I want to say something, so badly, but I remember Seth’s warning. I’m to sit and listen only, and so that’s what I’m going to do.