Chapter 19
As I follow Caene through the small, weaving, unlit hallways, I realize the only lit patch of this godsforsaken prison was the path from my cell to the sterile, white torture chamber.
Right now, the only light is coming from the lantern Caene holds.
I wonder if there are other prisoners here.
We pass several closed doors, all identical to the door of my cell.
I listen closely as we pass for any signs of life, but the only sounds in the dark are my ragged breathing and Caene’s boots thundering against the stone.
I can’t figure out his motives for helping me.
For all I know, he could be leading me to my death, disposing of his family’s problem.
And I, like a lamb to the slaughter, am going willingly, blindly.
He wasn’t lying when he said this place is a labyrinth.
I can’t think of a single place in Kalsevden that would be able to hold such an enormous prison.
Then again, I’ve never been out of the Rookery.
The twists and turns are starting to make me dizzy.
He keeps turning abruptly, appearing as though he’s going to run straight into a wall and instead walking straight through.
At first, I thought it was somehow part of his preserver gift, but I soon realized the openings are just well hidden.
If you didn’t know they were there, you’d walk right past them.
Even I had to admit it was ingenious. If I had managed to escape my cell on my own, I would have gotten lost and most likely been stuck wandering this place until I died.
Which, given my current state, probably wouldn’t have been long.
Caene keeps looking back at me as if to make sure I’m still following him.
Every time he does, I resist the urge to roll my eyes and stick out my tongue like a bratty child.
Now that my strength is restored, however temporarily, I am seething.
I want to eviscerate everyone who laid a hand on me.
That redheaded guard would be first, followed by Asa, then the twins.
The thought brings a sick satisfaction to my chest, knowing I will kill at least one of them eventually.
The vision of Osper dying with my dagger in his neck replays in my mind.
I wasn’t an unduly violent person before all this.
I only fought out of necessity. To defend myself and those unable to defend themselves.
Feron taught me that bloodshed should be a last resort.
Just because you could hurt another doesn’t mean you should.
Revenge is a double-edged sword. It will only lead to your own destruction.
Right now, I welcome my destruction. Vengeance sings in my veins like a demanding song.
Shouts echo their way through the halls. I think they’re coming from behind us. I swivel toward the noise. A shrill bell echoes through the maze of hallways and empty cells. It’s an alarm. They’ve noticed I’m gone.
“Fuck,” Caene growls, his gaze swinging between the space behind us and the space ahead. “I thought we’d be farther when they noticed.”
I give him an incredulous look. “We’ve been running since we left that cell and we’re not very far along?”
“This place covers a lot of ground, little Aelavi.”
“Aelavi? As in the old Lyclavish word for dove?” My eyebrows draw together.
Doves are a cheap form of meat eaten in the Rookery, though it does often taste off and is far too tough.
They come into the city to find scraps to eat.
That’s how he sees me. Cheap, easy, and only worthy of the trash on the street. I grind my teeth together.
The feeling is mutual, fuckface.
A lopsided grin forms on his full lips. “I’m impressed. Most people don’t know the lost language. And I have to call you something. I don’t know your name.”
“And we’re going to keep it that way Caene,” I spit his name through my teeth. Our attention is pulled back down the cramped hall as we hear boots hitting stone. They’re coming this way. We bolt the opposite direction, but we’re slowed by the confined space and hairpin turns.
“This way!” I hear a familiar deep male voice shout behind me. I skid to a halt and a wicked smile curls my lips.
“What are you—?” I don’t give Caene the chance to finish.
I turn on my heel and run back the way we came.
Caene curses and follows close behind, his long legs eating up the distance.
I round a corner. On the other end of the hallway, three men do the same.
We stare each other down for a moment. The one leading the charge is the pasty scumbag who tormented me all this time in my cell.
Beat me, spat on me, starved me, humiliated me.
I assess the situation, as Feron trained me. All three men are large, a disadvantage in the small space. I look over my shoulder at Caene and flash him another savage smile. Turning back, I run straight for the three guards.
The short, black-haired guard reacts first, pushing past my true target.
I don’t waste any energy on him. I throw my dagger straight for his head.
Blood spurts as the dagger sinks into the base of his throat.
He goes to his knees, gasps gurgling from his mouth, his hands fluttering around the dagger.
I don’t stop. I slip past him, wrenching the dagger from his throat with a sickening squelch, blood coating my already stained boots.
The next guard is still not the one I want.
He swings his oversized sword over his head, and I roll between his tree trunk legs.
I hear metal collide with metal as Caene fights him behind me.
My gaze zeroes in on the one I want. The orange-haired bastard. I see a small flash of fear in his eyes. It’s quickly replaced by a smug grin as he readies himself for a fight.
“When I get you back in your cell, I’ll really make you squirm,” he says through thin lips.
Bile rises in my throat at the gleam in his eye and his thinly veiled insinuation.
Clearly, he underestimates me. I love it when people do that.
He readies himself and swings his sword over his head.
They should really learn to carry smaller weapons in such a small space.
But it works out in my favor, so I shouldn’t complain.
I easily duck under his swing, scurrying past his legs, and pop back up behind him.
If he’d been properly trained, he would probably have anticipated my move.
He twirls and swings upward this time. I easily dodge to the side.
A grumble builds in his throat. He’s getting frustrated with his oversized weapon, with me. I see his next move in my mind. He’s going to swing high again. I could beat him blindfolded. I smile, looking him dead in the eye, knowing I’ve got him.
“Come on Red,” he barks. “Let’s dance.”
He lunges for me, rage sloughing off him in waves.
He swings high and I go low, under his arm, jabbing upward as I do.
My dagger plunges into his armpit. He howls and I wrench it out.
I’m sure his whiny screams can be heard echoing through the labyrinthine passages.
His sword clatters to the floor and I kick it out of his reach before he can recover.
In my mind I see him lunge for me again with one outstretched, weaponless arm.
When he does a moment later, I shift to the left at the last possible moment, letting him barrel past me as I bring the blunt end of my dagger down on his skull while simultaneously kicking his legs out from under him.
He goes flying face-first to the floor, his limp, bloody arm unable to catch him.
His face crunches against the rough stone.
I leap onto his back and fist his hair, wrenching his head back, exposing his throat.
I can’t deny the excitement I feel in my bones as I press my dagger to his neck.
“I win,” I whisper in his ear as I drag my dagger across his throat.
I get off him and he rolls onto his back, sputtering and gagging.
He’s clawing at his neck, trying to get air.
I smile down at him as the light fades from his eyes, making sure I’m the last thing he sees as Death drags him into the abysm.
I look back at Caene, who has finished off the guard he was fighting. He’s staring at me with what looks like approval behind his eyes. I think I can also see a hint of fear.
Good.
They did this. They turned me into this cold, angry, heartless beast. His family. The Montbeths. Maybe my mother was right.
More shouting echoes down the corridor from the direction of my cell.
Caene swipes the lantern off the floor, and, without a word, we run from the carnage I created.
I can feel Caene’s magic starting to wear off; exhaustion and pain are creeping in.
I probably wouldn’t survive another fight.
Caene races back the way we came, twisting and turning. I struggle to keep up.
I briefly wonder how he knows where he’s going.
Then I remember who I’m following. He probably grew up running these halls.
Bringing prisoners like me here. Torturing them.
Leaving them to rot. Anger swells in my chest, giving me a burst of adrenaline.
It’s enough to keep propelling me forward.
As soon as he gets me out, I’m getting far away from him.
He can’t be killed, so running is my only option.
I never thought I’d long for my tiny, dingy room in Otyx’s bordello, but the weaker I get the more I just want to see Isi.
I want to make sure she’s alright. I want her to comfort me like she has before while I lick my wounds and try to come to terms with what was done to me, what I’ve done.
The thought brings another small surge of energy.
I have to get out of here. I have to get back to her.
Gods and goddesses only knew what Otyx has been up to in my absence.