chapter twenty-four #3
The bright smile he shot me two days ago flashes through my mind, the way it lit up his entire face. How different would his world have been if that were his true self? There was something about that smile though . . .
I jolt. Fangs. He has none! When Vilder or Seniia smile like that, their canines are easy to spot.
Reü doesn’t have any. Is that why he never smiles?
I study his face intently. He looks Reān.
He’s as handsome as any of them. My gaze glides across his tall frame as he continues to pace the floor.
He has the build of a Reān male. He’s even moonborn.
But weak. Weaker than all the others. Is he half human?
It all clicks into place. It isn’t me he despises so much; it’s the human part of himself.
But none of that changes the fact that he has me captured. I’ll survive first, then I can pity him later.
“If I’m nothing but a powerless, stupid human, why don’t you untie me?” I smirk at him.
“You’re right,” he says, and to my surprise, he walks over to untie the ropes holding my wrists in place. There’s no way it can be this easy. He steps around me so we’re face-to-face again.
“There, be my guest.” A cruel smile plays on his lips.
I roll my aching shoulders a couple times, then bring my hands in front of me to inspect my bloody wrists, and my heart almost stops. I’m braced.
“Now you’re under my control.” A chilling expression spreads across his face like a dark shadow as he holds up the piece he’s been toying with—the mother piece.
It takes all my self-control to remain calm, and somehow, I manage.
I study him carefully. How familiar is he with the brace?
There are several limitations that come just with wearing it: I cannot tell a lie or wield a weapon—unless it’s the shadowshard, of course, but is he aware of that?
And there’s no getting around that I have to obey his commands, whatever they may be.
But unless he actually gives me any commands, I’m free to do many things.
Except running away. I’ve experienced firsthand the amount of pain caused by straying too far from the mother piece.
Besides, I’ll need him to get the brace off of me again.
Unless he’s dead, of course—then it’ll fall off by itself.
I bite my lip, contemplating the idea. If I can get my hands on my shadowshard, that is an option, but can I go through with it?
I cast a quick glance at the black dagger.
Now that I’m standing, I can see that the rest of my daggers are lying next to it, making me think he doesn’t know I can wield the shadowshard when braced.
No, he has placed the daggers there to taunt me, thinking there’s no way I can touch any of them with the brace on.
He follows my gaze. “I bet you’re wishing you could use one of those right now.”
I stay silent.
“Answer me,” he snaps.
“I am,” I say, the brace forcing me to be honest.
He nods to himself, clearly satisfied with his control.
“Want to tell me why you ran away?”
“No,” I say, then scoff at his confusion. He needs to do better than that.
I realize a moment too late that that was the wrong move. Fury twists his face, a mask of hatred so intense it seems to darken his features.
“I command you to break your finger. Let’s start with your right pinkie,” he says. “Now.” A cruel smile plays on his lips.
Although I know it’s futile, I fight it. Pain soars up my arm, spreading throughout my body like a thousand needles pricking me from within. Nausea rises, and with stars dancing before my eyes, I fall forward, vomiting onto the floor.
Reü takes a step back, a disgusted look on his face.
Unable to fight it anymore, I take hold of my pinkie and break it with a sickening crack, the pain causing another round of nausea.
“Do you want to tell me now?”
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I shake my head.
Twisted fury crosses his features, but at least he doesn’t tell me to break another finger.
“What about this,” he says instead. “How on Reā did you manage to get your hands on one of the twin blades?”
“I stole it from Llyr.”
He lets out a triumphant laugh. “I knew the old fool couldn’t be trusted. When my uncle hears of this, Llyr will be stripped of his powers in an instant.”
My brows pull together. Will Llyr really face such severe consequences for not guarding the blade better? Astēr didn’t seem to mind.
“I honestly don’t understand why my uncle lets him decide anything at all.” His face takes on a pitying expression. “When I asked why I had to befriend you, I was told you had never had friends before and that you wouldn’t go anywhere as long as I made you feel special.”
I do my best to ignore his words and focus on the shadowshard on the table.
I’m quick. What if I stab him right here and now, before he can give me any commands not to?
Truth be told, he’s foolish not to have given me such a command already, but it only proves my theory of his inexperience with the brace. He needs to be specific.
“I told them you would run eventually,” Reü continues.
“Everyone knows humans can’t be trusted, and I was right.
” He stares at me. “They never told me why you were so darn important to them. By their reaction when you were gone, you’d think you were the key to saving this world.
” He scoffs. “Now they’ll learn to listen to me.
” His tone makes me want to cut his tongue out so he can say nothing more for the entirety of his existence.
“You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” I say, if only to annoy him.
“Cut it out with the sarcasm,” he warns, his voice low and menacing.
I can sense his command settle over my body. It feels similar to a soulbinding.
“I have some questions for you,” Reü says. “I’m always kept in the dark, and I demand to know what is happening.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” I say. It’s the truth, after all.
He narrows his eyes at me. “I told you not to be smart with me.”
I shrug. “It’s the truth,” I say. “I cannot lie.” I wave my braced arm in the air in front of him.
“So, you don’t know what they want with you either?”
“Define ‘they,’ ” I say. I know—or at least, I think I know—what Astēr wants: to consume pieces of my soul to gain more power for himself. Cyra wants me dead. And so do a handful of umbra, the minister, a mob of Kabarians, and possibly also Casimir, for some unknown reason.
“Llyr,” he says. “Marduk, the ashina . . . ?”
“Hard to say.” I give him a tight-lipped smile “None of them have spoken to me about it.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut. He cocks his head. “I’ll be right back.”
I shrug. I heard nothing. But I don’t possess the Reāns’ exceptional hearing.
“Do not leave this room,” he says from the door. “And stay quiet.” He gives me a hard stare, then closes the door behind him.
Clear command. Except I’m free to walk around.
With Reü gone, I rip off my necklace and hurl it at the wall.
Crossing the room in two strides, I stare down at the four daggers resting on the table.
I reach my hand toward one of the regular daggers, and even before I touch it, an excruciating pain shoots up my arm.
He needn’t worry about those. I reach toward the shadowshard, relief flooding my body as I wrap my fingers around the sleek black handle. He should have said don’t move.
I tuck the shadowshard into my waistband, concealing it beneath my clothing.
Hearing muffled voices, I tiptoe over the squeaky wooden floor and press my ear against the wall.
“Where is she?”
My blood runs cold as I recognize the unmistakable voice of an umbra.
“Who?” Reü says, although the slight tremble in his voice betrays his unease.
“Do not be a fool,” the umbra sneers, followed by the sounds of several stumbling steps from what I can only imagine is the umbra pushing Reü and sending him scrambling backward. I don’t blame him. They’re vicious creatures.
“We have been tracing her with you. But two nights ago, her trail disappeared. What did you do?”
We. That means there are at least two of them in there.
Maybe they’ll take care of killing Reü for me.
No, he’ll give me up long before he gives himself up.
A part of me can’t believe the effort the minister is putting in, only to presumably bring me back to Bronich and burn me at the stake.
I have to give it to him, he’s nothing if not persistent.
I can only assume that he wants to set an example to everyone that running away is futile—that, and possibly punish me for killing two of his umbra.
“We cannot sense her anymore,” it hisses. “Did you kill her?” It is quite clear from its tone of voice that if he did, he’ll be dead too.
I glance down at my brace, glad that it’s good for something.
“No.” Reü’s voice is tight, as though the umbra is squeezing his throat.
“Good. You do not want to upset our master.” The umbra sounds pleased.
I close my eyes, wanting to pray, but I’m unsure to whom or for what.
Should I pray that he will refuse them and somehow get away?
That they will kill him? None of them are good options.
If he gets away, I’ll be forced to follow, and I’ll still be chained to him.
If he dies, I’m free, but I’ll have two or more umbra to deal with.
Besides, it doesn’t sit right with me to pray for someone’s death regardless of how much I despise them.
“I want something in return,” Reü says.
Silence.
“Then join us. Our master can grant you more powers than you could ever dream of. The C’elēn have grown weak. Pitiful. Only the Void grants the true power: immortality.”
The blood drains from my face. This is not the minister looking for me. Such powers are beyond his capacity to grant. It is Casimir.
Reü doesn’t answer right away, and I can almost hear the wheels churning inside his head as he considers his options. Then I hear the dreaded words.
“I’ll come.”
“Good. Now, hand over the girl.”
“I will go get her and meet you outside,” Reü’s muffled voice says through the wall. Then footsteps cross the floor, and a door opens and closes at the other end of the room.
I step away from the wall, my gaze flickering around the room.
The way I’m forced to stay here, it may as well be a prison cell.
I grip the shadowshard but keep it hidden.
I’m not going down without a fight. My body tenses as I hear his footsteps coming down the hallway.
I’ll need to take him down quickly. I can’t risk him giving me any commands.
Moving to stand next to the door, I press my back against the wall. Sweat coats my palms, and my heart beats so loud I’m positive it can be heard through the door.
Reü steps into the room, confusion crossing his face when he can’t see me right away.
I don’t hesitate. I can’t afford to hesitate.
And although it’s unfair, cowardly even, I stab him in the back, slamming the shadowshard into the back of his heart.
Having no idea how hard to push to penetrate a Reān body—or any body, for that matter—I use what strength I have, and we both go down.
He slams to the floor, lifeless, my brace opening and falling off in the process.
There’s no way the umbra didn’t hear that.
I stumble to my feet, glancing between the mother piece, which is scattered on the floor a couple feet from Reü’s hand, and the brace.
I grab both, then place the brace back on, hoping it’ll hide me from the umbra and relying on being able to take it off again when I want as long as I have placed it on myself.
I pull the dagger out of Reü’s back and—not wanting his blood on me—wipe it off on one of the curtains framing the window.
It’s a narrow window, located all the way up on the wall, close to the ceiling, but if I push the table below it, I should manage to climb up and squeeze through.
I take a wide stance on top of the small wooden table, dividing my weight on the unstable surface, and swear under my breath when I struggle to pry open the window latches with my left hand. The window has clearly not been opened in a long time.
Come on, come on, come on. Beads of sweat form on my forehead as I continue to struggle with the stubborn latches while simultaneously keeping my injured finger protected.
I have mere moments before the umbra notices something amiss.
There. The tips of my fingers are bleeding from the effort, but I don’t care.
I lift the window latch and swing one leg through.
Then I notice my satchel under the chair I was tied to earlier. I can’t leave without it.
I slide back down and grab it in two swift movements, then crawl back onto the unsteady table. Please don’t break on me, I plead when the table groans under my weight. Pulling myself up, I squeeze through the narrow window, wincing as the lower frame rubs against my wound.
Hanging on by my left fingertips alone, fifteen feet above the ground, I hear the door to the room slam open.
With no time to waste, I let myself drop to the ground, bending my knees to absorb the landing.
The pile of dirt below the window softens the blow, but the drop rips open my knife wound.
Clutching my side, blood gushing through my fingers, I fight against the urge to run and stay close to the building.
If they see me, they’ll catch me. I’ve experienced firsthand how quick they can move. But if they lose my trail . . .
I sneak as quietly as I can around the corner of what I now see is an abandoned farmhouse and am relieved to find it to be mostly surrounded by thick woods. If I can make it in there, I’ll have a fair chance at escaping.