Chapter 34 #2
“Don’t you ever move like a normal person?
” I snarl at him. He reaches for my knife.
I slash at his hand, then press the dagger back at my throat.
He yowls and snatches his hand back. The tip of his left index finger is somewhere on the disgusting floor.
I raise my eyebrow. “Guess daddy didn’t love you enough to make you invincible.
” He grabs my free arm roughly while holding his bleeding hand to his chest, soaking his blue tunic, turning it nearly black.
He tugs a rag from his pocket and ties it tightly around his damaged finger, then grabs hard me by the arm that's not holding the dagger, pulling me to stand beside him.
Maziar passes all four of us, moving toward the staircase.
He moves painfully slowly, and my patience is waning by the time we hit the base of the stairs.
I just want to get this over with. Osper has Caene’s arms bound tightly behind his back with chains he must have conjured, leading him by pulling back on his bound hands, forcing him to bend at the waist. I can only imagine how painful it must be to be forced to move that way.
We make our way slowly toward the front door, where a scrawny figure is waiting.
Berttom.
His eyes briefly touch mine. My lip curls in a snarl. Maziar hobbles up to him, shakes his hand, and passes him a purse heavy with coin. Understanding slams into me. I should have known.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarl at Otyx. “You told them about Isi. You betraying motherfucker!”
He doesn’t even look at me as he laughs.
“You have been a pain in my ass since I brought you here. Isirae’s been getting a lot of complaints from customers.
She’s a dead fish, they say.” I grip the knife so tight my hand cramps.
“This way I get rid of two useless artifacts and I still come out on top.” He jangles the coin purse in his ear.
I throw my knife. Otyx hits the floor with a yowl, the knife sticking out of his stomach.
It should have been sticking straight out of his eye, but my rage clouded my mind.
I didn’t think; I reacted. My heart sinks as I realize how disappointed Feron would be with me.
The one throw that counted and I choked.
My one solace is the knowledge that he could still die from the wound I’ve given him.
As long as no one interferes and he’s left to bleed on the filthy floor where he belongs.
“Master!” A deep, feminine voice calls. Draya runs out of his office and kneels at his side, her hands fluttering over the dagger, clearly unsure of what to do.
Damn.
“Don’t just sit there, you stupid cow!” he yells at her. “Go fetch a healer!” Draya glares at me as she rises. I return her glare with a cold smile.
Pain explodes in the back of my head. Caene’s bellow follows me into the blackness.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear the confusing cloud around my head, not fully comprehending what I’m seeing. An enormous creature flying through the air.
A whale. My eyebrows lower. But whales don’t fly. Do they? I can’t remember.
Understanding comes slowly. I’ve seen that whale before.
But where? I try to reach for my pounding head but my hands are bound behind my back.
I try to speak but my mouth is so dry. Too dry.
The feeling of cloth on my tongue tells me why.
I roll my head to my left and my eyes connect with stunning green ones.
Caene.
He’s sitting on the floor beside me, also bound and gagged.
His face is stone but his eyes are filled with a fear I’ve never seen before.
Eyes that have been with me in my dreams for as long as I can remember.
There’s a silent question behind them now.
I nod to let him know I’m alright and his shoulders sag slightly in relief.
I roll slowly onto my side, nausea riding up my esophagus.
Fuck. I thought the House of Preservation was the strongest house, so why do they feel the need to keep knocking me unconscious?
I groan. Guess Caene’s invulnerability didn’t take after all.
“Ah good. You’re awake.” Maziar’s grating voice echoes across the room. “Wouldn’t want you to miss this.”
My heart rate spikes, panic churning in my gut. I lift my head slowly, forcing the vomit that’s climbing up my throat back down.
Isirae. She’s kneeling at Maziar’s feet, facing us, just like in my vision, her hands bound behind her back.
She’s covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, some fresh, some dried to a brittle cake.
Her dark eyes are bloodshot and tear streaks cut through the filth on her face in layers, like she’s cried for so long on and off that the old streaks caked with grime before the new ones could wash it away.
Bitter violence builds in my heart. I am going to rip Maziar’s head off and feed it to a gijire. I know where to find one.
I can’t understand how she’s still alive if Maziar has had her for as long as he clearly has. My visions haven’t been wrong before. Did I do something to change it? To alter the course of the future?
All my questions fade as Maziar places his hand on Isi’s head and she flinches so hard she nearly topples over. He smiles that horrendous smile. “I believe you know my daughter, Isirae.”