Chapter Fifty-Seven
CHAUCER
The electronic ankle monitor bit into Chaucer’s skin.
The archaic piece of technology was a reminder that he was not here of his own volition.
The prison was no bigger than a small child’s room.
The walls were within touching distance if he reached out and stretched his fingers.
Left alone in the windowless room, with only a pathetic mattress on the floor and a plastic table and chair, he let his mind wander.
The ankle bracelet was just a physical reminder of what they thought of him.
It was the tracker they had hidden in his arm that was more useful.
They had placed that one deep enough that he had to slice through muscle and flesh to locate it.
He patted the tracker and his recently healed skin.
Instead, he had chosen to leave it in. Removing it would just force them to replace it, and they would select somewhere deeper and harder to locate.
In the darkness, within the screaming silence, he could almost forget about the choices he’d made that had brought him here. Small decisions that had accumulated until there was only one path he could take, and there was no turning back.
The door to his right slowly slid open. Bright light streaked through, and he blinked, ignoring the tiny dots that danced in his periphery.
He had not been expecting company. Had not, in fact, seen another living creature in the previous three days.
His food, or what loosely passed as food, had been slipped through the small gap at the bottom of the door. Another reminder he was a traitor.
Leaning against the wall, he hunched his shoulders, letting the visitor come to him. He may have fallen from grace, but he still had the breeding of an Atlantean aristocrat and had long ago learned to play the game of the elite.
One of the immortals walked in. Her face was hidden by the dark hood she wore.
The chakram strapped to her side gave away her identity.
Meraki, if he remembered correctly, Khalida’s second-in-command.
Unlike the other guards, she didn’t sneer at his presence, but there was no mistaking the gaze of contempt she sent his way as she looked him over and surveyed the room.
Recognition flickered through him as he stared at the guard for a heartbeat too long. She had always been hidden by the shadows or wearing her hood when she had guarded him. And he had never seen her face before, but now, he was kicking himself for not recognizing the subtle signs.
He clenched his fists. Forcing himself to not give anything away, an erratic heartbeat and both of them would think he was about to flee. Or attack.
In every lifetime, she always had the same color eyes. The same shade of copper.
Atlanteans didn’t believe in reincarnation or the afterlife, but that didn’t stop the whisper of bittersweet memories from wrapping around him. Fragments of dreams and lifetimes that shouldn’t have existed. Two lives cursed for an eternity. And only he ever remembered.
“You can leave. Chaucer won’t attack me,” Sypha softly ordered as they dusted nonexistent dirt off their pristine white floor length dress. Lace gloves covered them up to their elbows. He hadn’t even noticed Sypha enter, too distracted by Meraki.
It was enough time for Chaucer to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.
Meraki opened her mouth but quickly shut it. She stood up straight and stared at the two of them. “Three minutes,” she told Sypha before turning to him and looking pointedly at his arm. She met his gaze. “You are being watched.”
Sypha walked towards the plastic table and sat. Chaucer followed, letting the silence grow between them. What game was Sypha was playing?
“I have never been able to read your future. It has always been blurry, as if you were protected.”
“Or because I didn’t have a future,” Chaucer finished for Sypha. He leaned against the chair and waited for Sypha to continue.
The silence grew louder between them.
“You have a choice. Two potential paths you can take,” Sypha whispered. “Which side will you choose?”