Chapter 29
It starts with a slap.
My teeth cut the inside of my cheek on impact. Bells ring in my head, but they turn into roars when a swift kick to my hip sends me sprawling across the dirt floor.
Face pressed to the ground, the smell of vomit and urine fills my nostrils, making me gag then cry out when Brother Fief grabs the back of my hair and pulls. Chains rattle, tripping me at my ankles when I stumble.
“Where are the Fae going?” Fief’s spittle hits my cheeks as he hovers over me.
“I don’t know,” I hiss, my eyes stinging.
“Wrong answer.” He lands a punch to my lower back, and a gush of tears runs down my face.
I hunch over to find reprieve, but Fief’s firm grip holds me upright. He strikes my ribs.
Stars flare in my vision, and I cry out. I suck in desperate breaths, each one causing a fresh ache to bloom.
“WHERE ARE THE FAE GOING?” he shouts.
I bare my teeth.
“I DON’T KNOW,” I scream back.
It’s a mistake. I know that the moment the sick grin twists Brother Fief’s lips.
“Well, we’ll just have to find out what you do know.”
Another punch. This one to my face.
A kick to my knees sends me crashing to the ground.
Then more strikes to my hips, sides, and legs.
I curl in on myself, whimpering and crying out as Fief continues his assault, sending silent, desperate prayers to Ignar, Velmira—any of the six Gods or Goddesses to save me.
My magic stirs, but it’s still suppressed. It cannot erase the pain from Fief’s attacks. There’s no end to this suffering. Not until Fief decides there is.
When my lip splits and blood trickles down my chin, he pauses. I believe he might be done. But he’s just getting started.
Seconds blur into minutes.
Minutes bleed into hours.
I don’t beg for mercy. My pleas would only invigorate a man like Fief. When I crack my eyelids to track his movement and see the bulge in front of his pants, I want to vomit.
He’s a sick, twisted man. How could Lev leave me with him? I’ll never forgive him.
What about Ferria? Surely my sister will notice I’m missing.
Then again…she’s busy with the forge. And I haven’t had the chance to tell her the Fae are leaving.
If she notices my absence, she could think I’m in the forest treating Darius. And Juniper rarely leaves her cottage.
No one will care to find me.
I’m on my own.
Hopelessness tries to take root in the back of my mind, festering alongside the horrific pain wreaking havoc in my body.
Fief bends down and grabs my hand. I don’t have time to process what’s happening before—
Snap.
A scream tears from my throat, and my misshapen finger burns with agony.
But it seems, finally, one of the Gods has decided to take pity on me.
My vision narrows into pinpricks of dim light. Then there’s only black.
“Light magic reigns supreme. It chases away the dark, ensnares shadows in its bright rays. Ailments of the mind and body fade into nothing in its presence.”
Pristine, thick parchment flips. The pages of the Fae text flutter from the touch of invisible hands until it lands on a page adorned with the same selmary rose embroidered in Darius’s tent.
“The most notable menders all derive their gifts from The Mother’s divine blessing, basking in the warmth of her illumination, sharing the bounty of her love with the rest of the world through the manifestations of—”
“Wake up, girl!”
The shouted words yank me out of the dream of reading the Fae text. I hover on the brink of consciousness, all too aware of the pain lingering throughout my body, debating if I should just fall back into the dream rather than—
A splash of moisture hits me in the face, ripping the choice from my hands.
I cough and sputter, my eyes fluttering open, blinking rapidly as my vision readjusts to the dark cell.
“Thank The Mother,” a stranger’s voice sighs. “I was beginning to think you were dead.”
I take a breath and nearly weep with relief when the sharpest pains from Fief’s assault have dulled to a faint thrum of discomfort.
My magic nestles against my skin like a kitten cuddled against my side, still weakened from whatever powder my abductor threw in my face, but strong enough to have alleviated the worst of my injuries. The powder’s effects are dulling.
Thank you.
The magic swirls in a slow, gentle circle.
“Please tell me you can hear me, and I’m not imagining you.”
My eyes dart to the other side of the cell and widen. The human rebel sits upright, leaning against the wall where his chains anchor him in place. The light from the hall falls over the side of his face, revealing the whites of his eyes as he watches me.
“Can you hear me?” he asks.
I lick my dry lips, wincing when I touch the cut splitting my skin. “Yes.”
His shoulders lower with another heavy sigh. “Blessings to The Mother.”
I frown at the immense relief flooding his features and study him. “Do I…know you?”
“No, but after days of enduring the same treatment that’s left your pretty face a mottled mess, I have to say I’m glad to no longer be alone.”
My stomach churns.
Lev said the rebel was imprisoned, but I had no idea he was enduring this.
I push myself upright, careful to move slowly so I don’t aggravate any unknown injuries my dulled magic hasn’t been able to heal. “What did you throw at me?”
“My water ration. Don’t worry. They bring more with our evening meal.”
I lean against the stone wall behind me, the hard surface digging through my thin, blood-stained nightgown.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
“Not as bad as you at the moment.”
I swallow down bile. “I’m a healer. I can help you.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t think there is much you can do from over there.” He lifts a foot, dangling the chain binding him to the wall in demonstration.
He’s right. Even if I could send my magic to him, doing so would reveal my secret to a complete stranger. And there’s every chance he might betray me to our captors.
As much as it pains me to see his injuries and not do anything to help, that’s what I must do.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Silas. And you’re Elara Stonebloom.”
“You know my name?”
“The soldiers talk.” He cocks his head to the side. “And they enjoyed speculating about what the Fae had you doing out there in the forest. Many enjoyed provoking the one they call Lev about it.”
My lips twist with distaste, tugging at my split lip. “I’m sure.”
He pauses a beat then asks, “What were you doing out in the forest with the Fae?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
I part my lips to tell him about the spell demanding my silence, but hesitate, glancing at my bare arms.
“I…” I wait for the burn around my throat to flare. When it doesn’t, I swallow and say, “I was helping treat their sick friend.”
Gods!
I can… I can talk about it!
Did completing the deal automatically lift Rian’s magical gag…or did he choose to release it himself?
My spine stiffens. Lev knows about the gag. I’m sure he told the others. I need to make sure the soldiers continue to believe I’m incapable of talking about the Fae.
If Fief is willing to beat me for scraps of information, even knowing my limits, I shudder to imagine what he’ll do when he realizes I can speak freely about every moment I’ve spent with the Fae.
“Darius.”
The Fae’s name on Silas’s lips has my gaze snapping back to him. “What?”
“Darius,” he repeats, expression unreadable. “That’s the sick male’s name.”
My unease grows. “You know him?”
“I travelled with the Fae for weeks. I…heard things.”
I shift my legs, tucking them under my hip. “So it’s true. You’re really a rebel?”
“Of a sort.”
I frown. “Then why haven’t you been released?”
His forehead creases as his eyes narrow. “Why would I have been released?”
“Because those men”—I wave a hand to the cell’s door—“are part of the rebellion.”
Surely Lev and the others would’ve released Silas once they confirmed they’re on the same side.
Silas’s snort undermines the thought. “Those men aren’t rebels.”
What?
“But Lev—” I shake my head slowly. “He told me—”
“I’d worry less about my son and more about your own predicament.” Heavy bootsteps precede the arrival of General Ironheart.
He carries a lit torch that he sets in the sconce on the wall across from the cell.
I lock my knees as I take in brown eyes that look so much like Lev’s, only there isn’t a hint of consideration or remorse in that steely glare as he stops less than a foot away from the metal bars.
He lifts his hand, revealing a thick, familiar book clutched in his grasp. “What is this?”
Blood roars in my ears.
Any hope of being released burns away like the homes swallowed up in the natchling’s fire as my gaze locks on the Fae script etched into the leather cover.
They will kill me for this.
I take a deep breath and tuck my hands into my lap to hide how they shake. “A book.”
“And yet…” He lifts the cover and flashes a page in my direction. “It’s blank.”
What is he talking about?
I glance at the pages, and though I can’t read the words from this distance, there are clearly marks on the pages.
“You are confused,” the general states.
I blink, schooling my features. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m going to hold my cards close to my chest.
“Only about why I am still locked in here,” I say. “I already told Lev…I don’t know where the Fae went.”
“I might’ve believed you, but then I found this…unusual book among your belongings.” He begins to thumb through the pages. “I find it hard to believe the Fae would give you a blank tome.”
Bless you, Myrissie…
For it’s only by the grace of the Goddess of Knowledge that General Ironheart doesn’t know Juniper gave me the book—that my adoptive mother likely possesses numerous secrets he and his conspirators would like to know about.
Still, I don’t know what to make of the assertion that the book is blank.
And what about the diary?
Did he find the journal, see the feminine writing, and decide it must be irrelevant?
“Well?” the general prompts.
“Well, what, sir?”
He snaps the book closed with a scowl. “What is this book?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes narrow. “Perhaps you don’t realize the predicament you’re in, Elara, but your survival depends entirely on your cooperation.”