Chapter 34
“Let me see her!” a woman’s voice yelled at the two guards stationed at the entrance of the dungeon that I had called my home for the past four days.
The only indication of passing time was the guard shift changing and two meals per day of bread, root vegetables, and water. Food that I hadn’t been able to eat, though my stomach grumbled in protest at my stubbornness.
“My lady, I am sorry, but we cannot allow anyone to see her. Commander’s orders,” a guard said apologetically.
“Ugh! Worthless!” Anya’s disgust was palpable. “Rory, Cora is alright!” She shouted. “I am staying with her in her rooms and…”
The doors to the dungeon were thrown shut with a metallic slam and cut off any more information that Anya could relay to me.
She was the only angheal whom I had any trust for anymore.
The information she risked sharing with me, albeit small, gave me a modicum of relief.
I worried for days about what they could be doing to Cora.
If Anya were with her, I knew she wouldn’t be totally harmed. Goddess, I missed her so much.
“Mighty lucky to hear about your daughter, miss,” Greyshing said from a dark corner of the neighboring cell.
I was resistant to speaking with my cellmates at first, but the loneliness of my despair broke the hesitation I had about speaking with any more seraphs.
There were five of us in cells; many of them had been here for months, awaiting sentencing or death.
All but me were daemonite militia members, hellbent on taking down King Torrish.
A sentiment I could now sympathize with.
They were put in silver shackles to suppress their enchants, the clanking of which indicated who was awake and moving in their cells and who had decided to sleep to escape, for a moment, this nightmare.
I blew out a sigh. “It was. I will take any information I can get about her. Knowing she is safe for now brings me a sliver of peace. How is your leg wound?”
Greyshing sniffed. “Infected. The guards were particularly thorough with their interrogation methods this morning. They keep using the same dirty silver blade over and over on me.”
Greyshing was leading a group of militia to set off bombs at the Temple of Themis when he and the rest of the group were caught.
I had come to learn from him that the Temple was massively protected by enchants and divine power, so they were experimenting with different types of bombs imbued with enchants to try and penetrate the shielded marble building.
He had been “interrogated” every day for a month, and if he didn’t get help soon, I feared the infection would claim his life.
It was possible that’s precisely what they wanted.
The silver dagger they kept using on him and the silver shackle that bound him made it nearly impossible for him to be able to heal himself like a seraph should be able to do.
“I wish I had my herbal kit. A good tea and salve with calendula, yarrow, and goldenseal would take care of that wound in no time.”
Greyshing darkly laughed. “I do too, miss. I wish I could say it’s the thought that counts, but, in this situation, I don’t believe thoughts are going to do much, and my prayers are going unanswered.”
The only god that would have the ability to answer was Themis. I suspected he wouldn’t be in a forgiving mood to answer the prayers of daemonite seraphs who were trying to destroy the source of his power and a human who was actively against the way he imparted his power.
I woke to the sound of my name. My eyes fluttered open, and my vision blurred at my surroundings, taking me a moment to realize where I was in the state of my delirium.
My energy had dwindled to nothing. Two more days passed, and I had only been able to drink my water and eat a little bread.
My pants and tunic sagged a little around my body.
“Rory.” Lapis-blue eyes shifted into focus, staring at me between iron bars. A look of mocking pity locked onto his face as he stood with his arms crossed in front of him.
I jumped up and didn’t stop moving backward until my body hit the stone wall. “Gabriel.”
“Oh, my darling. You look a fright. I am not here to hurt you. I just wanted to check on your well-being,” he said with his sickly-sweet noble tone.
I scoffed. “My well-being? Do I look well?”
His eyes twinkled as he raked them up and down my dirty and frail body. “The weight loss suits you.”
“Asshole,” I growled out.
A dark chuckle rumbled from him, and he shook his head. “That mouth of yours. I can’t wait to put it to better use.”
I would have vomited if I had anything in my stomach to bring up. The thought of him touching me made me wince.
Gabriel smirked. “I wonder, are you ready to be more of a lady and stop living in hunger and squalor? A bath, food, and a comfortable bed await you in our rooms. Just tell me you’re ready to behave.”
“OUR rooms?” I asked indignantly.
“Yes. You are mine, so you will be in my bed,” he shrugged. “I’ll even wash your hair for you during a nice, long, warm bath together. I am a gentleman and nothing if not doting when I get what I want. Tell me, are you ready to let me show you how good you could have it?”
I blinked. I honestly thought I would be left here to rot, but I still couldn’t bring myself to give in to him.
Once men let their pretty words fade and chivalrous acts drop, women were often left with little choice but to drink the poison they had been presented.
It was the only way to quench their thirst in the pursuit of survival, being denied access to the tools to build their own wells.
But I would not concede to him and drown in what he was offering me.
“See, the hesitation makes me think you aren’t quite ready. Not hungry enough. Not filthy enough. Not tired enough. Your stubbornness is stronger than I anticipated, though it's to your own detriment. It would be easier for both of us if I didn’t have to compel you.”
My fists clenched, and the fire within me that I thought had extinguished sparked. “Yes, I would hate to make your life difficult with how easy you have made mine.” My nostrils flared. “Go fuck yourself, Gabriel…because you certainly won’t be fucking me.”
Gabriel’s face dropped, and he turned and walked away. “I’ll be back in a few days, Aurora. You need some more time to think,” he called over his shoulder.
The guards turned and saluted him as he strode by, but he stopped before exiting and turned to the guards at attention.
“Punish her. Use hands only. Don’t touch her face,” Gabriel directed firmly.
I silently gasped. I feared my body might not be able to handle a beating, given how weak I was.
One of the guards spoke. “Commander, the Captain said not to touch her.”
“Did he?” Gabriel sneered. “Well, I outrank the Captain, and you will heed my command!”
“Yes, Commander,” they said in unison.
The metal door slammed with a clang that echoed off the damp walls.
Both guards stalked toward my cell. I frantically looked around for something, anything, I could use to defend myself, but in my weakened state, I doubted even a dagger would help me.
There was nothing but hay, a molded blanket, and a bucket to relieve myself in.
The jingle of keys and the click of the lock to my cell made my breathing heavy and my heart race. The first guard stepped through the door and grabbed me by my wrists, pulling me off the wall, spinning me around, and putting my back to his chest.
I pleaded, “Please. Please don’t do this!”
I barely got the last word out when the second guard punched me in the ribs.
The air rushed out of my lungs, and I cried out in pain, going as limp as I could in the guard’s hold.
A searing pain spread through my side, and I knew immediately my ribs had broken.
I tried to thrash, but between the pain and my weakened state, it was a pathetic attempt.
“Hold still, you human bitch!”
“Oof!” I gasped out as the next blow hit directly into my abdomen. My empty stomach lurched, feeling the need to heave, but with the emptiness of it, nothing came up.
Before the next hit could land, a clank of chains slammed against the metal bars of a cell, diverting their attention.
“Hey! Leave her be! Real tough men beating up a woman with no way to defend herself. I thought the castle guards had more honor than the angheals. I see you’re all lapdogs to the crown and traitorous pieces of shit! ” Greyshing yelled.
“Shut up or you’re next!” the guard holding me screamed.
Another voice taunted from the cell across from mine. Corbett, I think his name was. “Hey, dickheads. I heard your mothers were a good fuck. Maybe I’ll pay them a visit when I get out of here. How much do they charge?
The guard in front of me abandoned his next hit and turned around with trembling fists to the seraphs, taunting them.
Greyshing lazily pointed at the guards with a smirk. “Wait…you kind of look like me. Sons?”
Raucous laughter rang out from every cell.
Both guards seethed at the disrespect and taunting.
The one holding me let me fall to the ground in a heap, and I pulled my knees to my chest, the motion excruciating.
They marched out of my cell and slammed the door behind them, locking me inside to deal with my injuries.
One by one, the guards opened each cell and hit, kicked, and threw around each seraph for their part in the mocking.
By the time the guards closed the last cell, the dungeon was silent.
Four daemonite militia members behind iron bars and chained in silver shackles saved me from more cruelty. They took beatings of their own, while already injured, starved, and broken for a human they didn’t know or owe.
“Thank you,” is all I could manage to whisper from my cell. No sounds returned, and I closed my eyes, thinking of Cora to distract me from my pain and sorrow.
Hours passed, and I could barely bring myself to sit up, but I managed to lift myself enough, through shaking, tears, and wincing, to lean against the wall and to quench my thirst and soothe my dried throat.
The three-day-old water tasted so good in that moment, and I gulped it down, taking care not to lose one drop of it.
Rumbling shook the cell walls, and crumbling stones and dust fell from the ceiling.
I tensed and looked around to my cellmates, in various stages of injury, lifting their heads and peering through iron bars at the shift in the dungeon.
Greyshing sat with his head down and smiled with a swollen and bloodied lip at the stone floor.
Another rumble, this time louder, and the chains rattled from the walls. Shouts from outside the dungeon could be heard in the distance, mostly from above us.
What in the underworld is happening?
I slowly inched myself up the wall to stand on unsteady feet, wincing in pain and holding my broken ribs. Another huge rumble and a crash, and I was thrown back to the cell floor. Rocks and debris went shooting past me, and a cloud of dust covered the entirety of the cells.
“Go!” a man shouted.
I heard lock after lock click open and muffled shouts from the other end of the dungeon as fists thudded against the metal door of the room. I was so confused, scared, and in pain that my only option was to cover my head and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Take her!” Greyshing shouted, and a moment later, a pair of brawny arms pulled me up and carried me out of the cell. I yelled out from the pain of my ribs being pressed against a body. The dust and debris did not allow me to get a good look at the rescuer's face.
I thought of Cora. If the castle were under attack, she could be hurt. I flailed and twisted. My ribs were in agony, but I pushed through. I couldn’t leave Cora here. At least if I were in a cell, I would be in the same building as her.
The seraph wrapped his arms around me tighter, locking my frail body in place. “No! My daughter! I can’t leave my daughter!” I cried out.
A crack snapped through the air, and the metal door to the dungeon flew off its hinges, slamming into a shimmering barrier.
Someone is shielding. Guards filed into the room, swords drawn, as my cellmates and rescuer moved me through a huge hole blown open with a ladder leading above ground.
The moon shone brightly in the sky above, and the crispness of the air cooled my heated skin.
As I looked back at my prison one last time, a hulking form moved forward through the settling dust, locking rage-filled chestnut brown eyes to mine.
The shimmering shield held back any enchants being thrown at us, including his.
Some of the guards threw their shoulders against it, ricocheting off the shield and falling to the floor.
“Knock her out, Khaitos!” a voice ordered in a rush from above us.
The man cradling me to his body looked down at me with hazel green eyes, putting his palm to the top of my head. With a soft smile, he greeted, “Welcome to the revolution, love.” A blinding bright blue light flashed, my body went limp, and everything went dark.
My instinct had always been to flee my oppressors—my mother, nobility, and men.
But my history had proven that running would only offer a temporary respite.
I could run no longer. To seraphs, I was only something weak and pliable: a human woman.
They grossly underestimated the amount of fiery rage I had been holding back, building year after bitter year inside me, and what I was willing to do with it.
The angheals built the kindling to their own destruction, and now it was time to light a spark and let it all burn.