Chapter 30 #2
“Here.” He thrust a stack of blank parchment and a quill toward me. “You are to write …” The king continued with detailed instructions on what to command the sentient army to do, each letter worse than the last as he prepared for several outcomes dependent on Mortremon’s movements at the border.
When I was done, it was with an aching hand that I forced down the three-course meal prepared for the king and his consort. After the final dishes had been taken away, Terym didn’t dismiss me as he usually did, instead leaning back in his chair to study me over the rim of his wineglass.
“I have something to show you tonight, my dear.”
The term of endearment was like a snake slithering in my gut, a reminder of all the times he had manipulated and used me.
I didn’t have much of a choice but to follow when he rose from his chair.
He led me through winding halls to a section of the castle I had never been to before, Pierce and Gensen flanking us.
We entered a long corridor, its walls lined with guards, the bright eagle of their pommels reflecting in the lantern’s light.
Each man inclined their head when the king passed, the creaking of their armor interrupting a distant thudding that grew louder with each step forward.
At the end of the hall loomed a solid iron door, and it creaked ominously when a guard opened it for us.
The choking scent hit me like a punch in the gut.
It was like nothing I had ever experienced before—unmistakable filth with a metallic edge and the bitterness of fear.
The sounds from within the room echoed—wails and soft groans and a rhythmic thwack that had to be the unmuffled sound I’d heard from the hall.
All of it froze me in place, and it wasn’t until Gensen gripped my arm that I was able to force my feet to follow the king down the dark stone steps.
The door closed behind us, a final thud taking most of the light with it, and sweat broke out along my skin, causing my shirt to stick to my back. The few flickering candles were down to their last wick, but it was still enough to determine exactly where the king had brought me.
The castle dungeons.
My chest tightened with the beginning of an attack. I had to banish it, the danger unmistakable.
One. Two. Three.
I refused to look into the barred rooms lining the walls, unable to face the truth of what was inside lest it threw me spiraling into panic.
Four. Five. Six.
The stench grew stronger the farther we moved into the room, the thickness of it filling my lungs and doing nothing to alleviate my panicked breathing. The consistent thwack did little to distract me despite growing louder.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
The hall opened into a large room. It was crowded with brutal and barbaric devices decorated with sharp edges and too many buckles.
Ten.
Torture. They were used for torture.
That thwack sounded again, and the whimper that followed caught my attention.
Hanging by hands bound above his head was a young man I was shocked to recognize.
The porter who had often aided the king when we were camped at Ferveem Forest had to be no more than twenty years old.
His torso was bare, the skin pulled tight to expose several ribs.
Blood, old and fresh, dotted his skin. The state of his pants indicated he’d long ago lost control of his bodily functions.
I cupped a hand over my mouth to stop my dinner from resurfacing.
I barely knew him, but no human should be treated as he had been.
Another man stepped around the young porter, a whip held loosely at his side, and blood dripped from the multiple corded ends. He was covered head to toe in black, face hidden by a dark hood, with only black eyes visible underneath.
“My king,” he said, not an ounce of exertion in his voice, like he hadn’t just been flogging a man within an inch of his life. It was clear by his head rolling on his shoulders the young porter couldn’t take much more before Mobitus would claim him.
“Have you learned anything more, Inquisitor?” the king asked, stepping up to the young man and inspecting his face closely.
“He’s nothing left to tell, my king,” the inquisitor responded, sending gooseflesh rising along my skin.
“We have found quite a number of traitors in our midst,” Terym began. He was speaking to me, though his eyes didn’t leave the body in front of him. “Pierce has become particularly skilled at weeding them out.”
There was a shuffle of feet, and I met Pierce’s blank stare with wide eyes. I’d thought him kind, he’d shown my sister and me nothing but respect since the moment we met, even some modicum of protection despite being under order of the king.
I crossed my arms over my stomach. I had been so utterly wrong about him.
A sharp, shaky breath brought my attention back to the king, who leaned closer to the porter’s face. The young man’s gaze spun around the room, eyes glazed.
“Please,” he begged on a hoarse whisper. Terym’s hand twitched ever so slightly to the hidden sheath where he kept his favored jeweled blade.
“This is what happens to those who betray Torglea, who betray me.” The words were a cool lashing, sending a lightning bolt of fear straight into my racing heart. The calm before the storm. I knew exactly what happened when the king used that tone, had experienced it firsthand.
It happened fast. Had I blinked, I would have missed it entirely.
One second, the young man stared with wide, pleading eyes.
The next, a thin slit appeared at this throat.
Then blood poured from the wound, a river of red down his malnourished body.
Terym’s jeweled knife was clutched at his side, blood dripping onto the already filthy floor.
The young man elicited a wet gurgle as he tried, and failed, to draw in a breath. The sound sent me spiraling back to the past. To another man’s shocked face, with blood seeping from a wound I inflicted.
My breaths shortened, and spots danced before my eyes fast. My vision swam between the death of the past and the one occurring in the present. My stomach churned and bile rose, hot and acidic against my already raw throat.
After another gurgled breath, his head fell forward, his body swaying but otherwise still.
Mobitus had come.
Terym retrieved a handkerchief from inside his jacket and took his time cleaning the knife, then held it up to the closest candle to inspect the gleaming blade.
After returning it to the sheath at his side, the king turned those ice-cold eyes on me.
I shrank back, Gensen’s grip on my arm tightening to stop me from putting too much distance between us.
My heart thudded painfully loud when Terym leaned close.
“This is the fate that awaits you and your sister should you defy me. I want you to remember this place, my dear Adelia, for one day it could become your home.”