17. Displayed
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Displayed
Isat perched on the cot, waiting. It was the day of the banquet.
What the feeders and I had been plotting toward.
This eve was our chance to escape. A single dawnlight had passed since they bathed me and brushed my hair.
They had not taken me back to Cassiel, only left me with Al so he could continue drawing blood.
What Al had said still whirred through my mind: You will not need to worry when he feeds on you again. A bondmate’s bite will heal right up.
To think that my body had changed in nature seemed a foreign notion.
I had yet to relax since a group of more than twenty officers entered the chamber Cassiel was being kept in.
Egan had led them in, and they had come out with a massive form in a tarp being held by seven men on each side.
They had practically jogged through Al’s work chamber. Egan must have snapped his neck again.
The iciness in my chest retreated with the distance. It was similar to the wraithling bond stretching.
It felt just as it had when there was distance between me and my wraithling. She had been such a large part of my existence that the absence of the warmth caused a bone-deep ache. Piper had been warmth and sunshine. Cassiel was cold and nightfall.
They had taken him close to half a dawnlight rotation ago. Meanwhile, I sat here being poked and prodded.
I kept pressure on the spot Al had left on the inner side of my elbow with a napkin.
Steps came down the stairs. The loud thrum of boots hitting wood.
First to emerge from the entrance was Hester.
She was dressed in a frock—a redblood frock.
She tugged at the collar of the rough fabric.
Behind her entered three officers. All ones I did not recognize.
“My lord, I was sent to retrieve Her Highness.” Hester curtsied, keeping her head down.
“Not to worry, I finished what I must.” Al waved her off, still sitting behind his desk and not looking up. “Ah, and Officer.” Al snapped his fingers at one of the broad, dark men. He reached behind his desk and pulled out a case.
“Here, take this to Lord Vaner,” Al ordered.
The officer came forward and took the offered box. I stood to join Hester, then we were escorted by the Guard to the top of the staircase. The officer guided us toward the council wing.
I kept my gaze averted and busied myself with tightening the sashes at my waist. Silk hugged my bare skin. I could not imagine it being a good thing that I wore nothing underneath.
Suddenly, the two officers bracing me grabbed my arms until my feet dragged between them.
I scrutinized their stiff faces. Something was terribly wrong.
The other two took hold of Hester too. “What are you—unhand me!”
They continued forcing us down the hall.
“There is no need for such force,” I said, icily leveling a look at the man beside me. His jaw twitched, but he did not speak.
I met Hester’s eyes and shook my head. Shouting or crying would do nothing to free us.
They obviously had orders, and that meant they would see them through.
I did not know the specific training officers underwent, but men always returned different from the training.
Harder and harsher. They dragged us deeper through the council wing.
Past the section where the archive entrance led up.
Through another alcove, toward the same hall as before.
The doors had been propped wide. On both sides were triple the amount of officers as last time.
My stomach dipped. I searched faces, but none were familiar. We entered, and the layout was entirely different. No longer was there a table set up lengthwise. Now it was pushed in the other direction so the long table ran along the length of the wall.
Upon entering, my attention narrowed on Cassiel near the corner from the entrance. He stood chained to a metal pole driven and bolted into the ground. The cuffs around his ankles and wrists were attached to the pole. A deep blue silk robe draped over his shoulders, loosely tied at the front.
He had no expression, but upon seeing me, his lips thinned.
I sought Vera and Branwen. They stood on the opposite side from Cassiel, hands folded in front of them.
“And here is the main event.” Vaner stood, the chair scraping loudly. The long ivory cloak hugging his shoulders dragged behind him.
A faint smell of food remained in the air, but the table had been cleared of everything except half-full wineglasses. If the meal had passed and the drinks served, had Vera and Branwen succeeded in spiking the pitchers?
The sense of dread worsened. The officers released my arms. A quick scan told me only the lords were present. Hester was released and shoved toward the other two girls. They caught her arms, and the three huddled together.
Vaner stepped before me. I followed his attention to my nipples pressing against the thin fabric.
I stiffened my spine and tried to remain rigid.
Metal clanged together. Vaner took more joy from Cassiel’s reaction than anything else.
He paced around me and stopped behind me, so close that warmth radiated against my back.
“I have a gift for you. A few of them, in fact,” he breathed, and his sour smell stung my eyes. His hand dropped onto my waist, and he squeezed. “Bring it.”
Sounds of shuffling came on the heels of loud steps.
The officer was familiar. A thrill of hope stifled the dread compounding. Damien Rinx was here. The very man who had come to my aid, and the Resistance spy. I averted my gaze back to Vaner who held a wooden box.
He opened the basic, unadorned container to expose a skull. “This is for you.”
He pushed it at me, a wide, awful smile on his face. My hands shook as I extended them to take it. The lid of the box trembled under my touch.
“It is your father. I kept it as a reminder of traitors, and what I would do to those that disrupt order.” He coughed. “Saints, it is quite humorous that you survived those Hollows. Imagine my surprise when you were brought to the Citadel.”
Whatever else he continued to spout faded into a buzz. Indents carved the shape of the skull. All its teeth were intact and were housed in a wide-framed jaw. My father . . .
Thick emotion crowded my throat. My father had defied him.
His dark skin flashed in the faint recess of my memory. I had only a vague image of what he looked like; no distinguishing features remained in my memory. Even the small bits I did recall were mostly vague outlines of bodies.
Horror pooled in my stomach, swelling until it drowned out the numbness.
He stepped in front of me. “Now this is how I like you, a scared cunt.” Vaner grabbed my chin and wrenched it up.
Cassiel snarled, but it was not enough to pull me free of the webs of numbness.
The box slipped from my limp fingers and clashed to the ground, cracking apart. I couldn’t tear my focus away from the skull rolling away. Vaner stepped around me again, dragging his fingertips across my waist until he stood flush against my back, his breath hot against my neck.
Eyes fell on me. I could not stop shaking.
“Feast your eyes on an Awakened redblood for the first time in four centuries.” Vaner reached across my stomach and tugged the sash holding the robe together, baring my body.
Another rumble came from Cassiel. I could not breathe. Cold air puckered my nipples. The focus of the men at the table sharpened.
Vaner grazed a hand across my thigh, fingers pressing against the outer side of my bottom. Avarice glinted in his eyes. Pure and unmistakable.
“All that anger will force the Warlord into a bloodlust.” His hot, wine-scented breath touched my nose. My skin curdled. I wanted nothing more than to climb inside myself and never arise.
‘He will not, Amara.’ Cassiel’s harsh tone forced me back to the present.
“He will not want you after we all fuck you before him,” Vaner continued. “A tainted whore.”
‘Look at me.’ This time I could not help but face him. ‘You are not tainted. Regardless of what happens. You are mine. Nothing will change it.’
Something in his tone reached into my chest and hugged every organ and facet . . . I let out a gust of air.
A muffled thud repeated and became faster and faster. It was my pulse in my ears. I lifted my eyes and had to blink the tears out of them. Cassiel watched me, mouth curled into a sneer, shoulders pumping up and down.
Vaner was evil. Pure evil. There were lines that were just too detrimental to cross, and he reveled in stepping over them.
I snapped back into my body as a prickling sensation crawled up my limbs and yanked my robe closed. “You are pathetic,” I spat. “A weak little man that steals the bodies of others.”
Rage mottled Vaner’s face. He took hold of my hair in a hard grip, yanking me forward. I cried out, glaring.
“I was going to wait, but no longer. My next gift is the best part,” he breathed. “Officer Devin!” he bellowed, straightening.
Sounds came from the entrance. The bald man who had hovered much too close after my bath stepped forward and grabbed Hester’s arm. He yanked her before me. I held my breath.
Vaner was no longer looking at her. I followed his focus to Egan entering, effigy in hand . . . and next to him strode Ida. She held her chin high and expression tight.
I knew then.
Everything was ruined. All because Ida betrayed us. She had killed us all.
“One of the lovely feeders told me of your delightful plan to poison us all well before they could attempt it. Lady Ida has proven herself,” Vaner said as he approached the officer holding Hester. “You’ve been leading these young ladies astray, little miss, and you must pay for it.”
In a rapid move, he pulled the blade from Officer Devin’s scabbard and slashed it across Hester’s torso. Blood welled along the thick line. Too much of it.