Chapter 9
Nine
The gems in my palm glitter and gleam, not only due to the lamplight, but because of the inner light they now possess.
In my other hand I examine a piece of amethyst that I had brought with me.
While it is still beautiful and it sings its song so prettily in my mind, it seems dull compared to the magic-filled crystals littering my other palm.
Slipping my amethyst back into the pouch on my hip, I return my attention to the king’s gemstones.
Gently shaking my cupped hands together, I sift through them, their songs getting louder with the motion.
None of my gems have ever felt like this.
Sure, they have their own power and individual sounds that I am able use to identify their properties, but these ones in my hands feel…
alive. Which is impossible of course. They were completely silent, as though drained, and now they are full of life and potential.
With these is my hands, I feel as though I actually could heal someone’s aliments, or make them stronger, luckier, happier – whatever it was they needed from me.
Remember how they became so powerful in the first place.
I have to keep reminding myself that the magic inside those glittering rocks is from a demon.
As has been happening every time I tell myself this, his face flashes in my mind.
Kit. Heat fills my cheeks. Damned demon.
Even when he’s not here, he’s still tormenting me.
I reach for the pouch and put the magicked stones away.
Out of sight and surrounded by fabric, I am given some blessed relief from their humming.
Releasing a long breath, I lean back against the stone wall and let my head roll back to stare at the ceiling.
My body aches from yesterday’s escape attempt and from being inactive ever since.
I have no idea how long I have been here, its difficult to tell with no windows or regular visitors.
The guards have changed out three times, which makes me think it is probably the next day.
To my immense surprise, I managed to get some sleep last night.
After everything that has happened, I was expecting to be plagued by nightmares or fail to get any sleep at all thanks to my turbulent thoughts.
This could have been thanks to the amethyst I had clutched in my palm all night, helping to banish bad dreams. On top of this, the stone cell is cool and a blessed relief from the boiling heat of the sun.
Thanks to my status as sullied, I am used to sleeping on rough, hard surfaces and in dangerous situations.
In comparison to some of the places I have stayed since, this is practically a luxury suite despite the drying vomit in the corner.
Ultimately though, I think the stress of the day had just drained me completely and I succumbed to exhaustion.
Now I am awake though, my brain is back to its restless thoughts.
How is Ella? Did she take my advise and go to Joel?
By being caught, I have completely failed her.
He will take care of her in the best way he can, but can he truly protect her?
She has a gentle soul, and although I tried to teach her to protect herself, she always shied away from my methods.
I should have forced her to learn, to make sure that if anything ever happened to me she would know how to survive.
By not pushing her, I might have dammed her.
No, I cannot think of her any more, I won’t survive the heartache.
My soul is already shredded enough, and although the king promised he would release me if I completed his task, the chances that I will go back to my life as before is almost nil.
What I need to be doing instead is focusing on my current situation and how to get out of this alive.
I summoned a demon to create magic. If I wasn’t damned before, then I certainly am now.
However, it is not long before my mind begins to stray to thoughts of my sister once more, and the soul deep ache in my chest becomes almost unbearable. It claws at my throat and makes it difficult to breathe.
Slam.
The sound of a door slamming into a stone wall is unmistakable and breaks me from my grief.
Jerking in alarm, it takes me a few moments to realise that I’m not in danger.
Whoever slammed the door is down the corridor, away from me.
Frowning, I sit forward onto my knees and stare at my door, wishing I could see though to know what is happening on the other side.
The sound of clipped footsteps and muffled chatter reaches me but I can’t make out what anyone is staying.
This could be important, I need to listen at the door and get as much information as possible.
Slowly, I stand, pressing a hand against the wall for support, my legs stiff from a night of sleeping on the stone floor.
Hesitantly, I step forward, my heart in my throat.
Why am I suddenly so nervous about this?
They could be sharing crucial information about me, about the king’s plans.
It hits me that this is probably exactly why I am feeling anxious.
I could be about to hear about plans for my death or equally awful treatment, something that would make even the hardest person want to quake at the knees.
Come on Kiara, I tell myself sternly. Hearing what they say won’t change the situation, neither will burying my head in the sand. At least if I know, I can be more prepared.
“I am here to see the prisoner.”
Something akin to lightning strikes me and I stumble to the door of my cell, trying to get a glimpse of the person who just spoke.
The cell they put me in is right at the bottom of the row, giving me a sense of privacy, but it also means I cannot see who is standing in the corridor.
I know that voice. Caleb has come for me.
“We have been told not to let anyone in to see her, my lord.” The guard sounds so weak in comparison to the authority present in Caleb’s voice and I can almost imagine the look on his face.
“As one of the gods chosen, I have the right to bless someone before their death.” Caleb pauses and I feel the shift in the air despite not being able to see the conversation. “Or do you want to go against the will of the gods?”
“No! No, of course not, my lord.”
Those who wear the white bands are afforded many privileges that others are not, and if anyone else had tried to speak to a guard that way, they would be treated harshly. I don’t know how Caleb got into the castle, but I’m so relieved and eager to see a friendly face that I don’t care.
Footsteps approach and I scurry back to the far side of the cell, hardly able to contain myself.
Metal keys clink together and I see flashes of one of the guards through the small window in the door.
After what feels like a lifetime, it swings open and a familiar figure fills the entrance.
He steps over the threshold and I hold my breath, afraid that if I move too suddenly I might wake from this dream.
It has to be a dream, right? How else would he be here, looking at me with such an intensity my gut clenches tightly.
Standing like statues, the both of us wait for the door to shut and the sound of the guards retreating before we dare to move. In his sleeveless tunic and gleaming white cloak, he could very well be a statue carved in marble.
“Caleb.” My voice is barely a whisper but it seems to break the spell over us.
Taking a huge inhale of air, he steps forward, but I beat him to it and race forward.
Leaping, I throw myself at him, knowing he’ll catch me.
I’ve not had physical contact with him in years and certainly not since I became sullied.
Still, the feel of his body is familiar beneath my touch, his robes soft and covering the hard muscle beneath.
A thrill flares through me, old, buried feeling resurfacing at his touch.
He holds me tight, whispering something quietly under his breath. I can’t hear what he says, but it doesn’t matter. He’s here, that is all that counts right now. I inhale his scent deeply, committing it to memory. After all, this might be the last time that I ever see him.
His hands grip my shoulders and he pushes me back enough so he can look into my eyes. Scanning me from top to bottom, he seems to be searching for something, his expression set in a worried frown. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.” I know he’s asking about my injuries but none of them are really bothering me. At least, physically. Mentally I bare scars that will stay with me for life, however long that may be. Shaking my head I change the subject. “Caleb, how are you here?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he moves over to the door to make sure the guards have retreated far enough not to be able to hear us talking.
“I traded duties with one of the other chosen,” he explains, returning to me and placing his hand on my cheek.
“I’m not here to bless you though, I’m going to get you out of here. ”
How is it that a gesture so simple as touching my cheek makes me loose all sense?
Warmth spreads through my body and some something lights up inside me, a spark of hope pushing back my worries.
Caleb is here to rescue me. There is a part of me that rebels from this idea.
I’ve already made a deal with Kit that should see me free, if the king keeps his side of the deal.
I didn’t need Caleb to rescue me. I am not some helpless damsel who isn’t able to take care of herself, not when I’ve survived six years as sullied when most don’t last a full year.
He didn’t do anything to help you when you were made sullied, a dark thought whispers in my mind. Nor did he try to help you after that, so why now?
That isn’t totally true, he did look out for me over the years. He would have been punished if he was caught helping the sullied.