Chapter 37
Courts have long mastered the art of clandestine activities and acts of physical violence beyond mortal comprehension. The continent lacks no evil.
They always say you should never be taken to a second location. To fight until you have nothing left. To scream fire. To leave your mark.
I did all of those things.
I set the outpost on fire. I fought until bleeding to defend Lux and the healers so they may escape. Avonde. Kline. Serene. Poe. So they may tell Cedric what happened.
My burn marks are everywhere. Blackened footprints across the green grass, whatever was left of it. Blackened bodies. Golden plates. Beads underfoot.
Rolan enters the chamber where I am being held in the second location.
Where? I am not sure. It could be near his capital or somewhere else entirely.
Perhaps their new allied kingdom, Kilare.
It has been a day or maybe longer. They haven’t been feeding me.
Originally, I was chained to the floor but the brute of a man, the Carver, felt I would be more willing to speak during torture laying down.
Duresden’s techniques are clever. The cess metal beneath me is cold and wet, some rust digs into my shoulders.
A large metal plate held by a chain pulley system is ten or so feet above me, precariously at the will of those above.
With every coin they toss, the plate slowly inches down.
Its metal spikes stare down at me, menacing.
“My dear Elivienne.” Rolan leans down next to me and I can only move my eyes to the side. They strapped my head down.
“I am not your dear.”
Rolan drops a knee and leans onto the table, his cheek resting on his hand as he dolefully examines me. My hair tugs softly as he plays with it, as if I was a doll or something to be used.
He rises slowly and pulls a stool from beside the wall. Once seated, he pulls out a piece of parchment. Though it is hard to see him at this angle, I can tell he’s playing a game with me.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s see,” Rolan replies, eyes skimming the page. “Ah, yes. You are the last of your line. Tragic. Just you against the rest of us, how does that feel? To know you are trapped within a body that will not respond to you, that will not act for you?”
I grind my teeth and flex my fingers. “It feels great, actually. Thank you for asking.”
“Don’t give me attitude, Elivienne. I have been patient – more than that, I have been generous.”
I laugh at that. “Generous? Tell me what the hell is going on, Rolan.”
He scoots closer to me and presents the page before my eyes. It’s my family tree just like Avonde showed me that day in the castle. But this one is more extensive. The lines go back further than I could have imagined.
“What am I looking at?”
Rolan glances at the page. “Oh! Silly me.” He points to my line. “There you are and if we trace all the way up to the top –” his finger moves up – “it ends at a great-grandmother. A cess older than that bastard Martine, if you believe it.”
My body shakes from the close proximity, the wounds on my body barely healing from the initial attack and chaining.
I look at the map and see the ancient tree royally decorated, as if it were important.
Stars and rays of light shine down from the corners of the parchment and the words are delicately inscribed.
My father’s name lies just above mine but nothing of import is listed.
“Your point?”
“My point, Elivienne, is that this cannot possibly be true. No, no, no. These records are wrong.” He rips the page in half before my eyes.
Rising from the stool, he tosses the paper wad in the corner and cracks his neck before turning to me and landing a blow on my stomach. Being chained, I cannot reflex or protect myself the way my basic instincts scream for.
“I don’t know anything about my family,” I wheeze, my vision blackening. He lands another blow to my side this time and I can barely turn my head enough to vomit.
“Isn’t that the worst part of all? You cannot remember because my cess got carried away. A simple task really.” He folds his hands behind his back and begins pacing the space. The wet gravel crunches beneath him.
My body numbs at this information.
“You,” I croak. “You did this to me.”
Rolan laughs and claps his hands like a child. “Yes! Very astute, as always. When I was approached with this information –” his foot lands on the paper and he twists it further into the wet ground – “you must understand how riveting it was. The power already felt like mine.”
“What information?” Tears prick but I stifle them.
“You’ll get your mind back soon then, trust me, this will be easier. This was a mistake. I told him to find you, take you down and bring you to me. Two long years I have waited to bring you to heel.”
My mind replays every moment since I have awoken.
Every interaction with Sawyer, his duplicity, his withdrawn state, Killian’s presence at Orvynn.
Tyn tried to warn Sawyer in Veda about this and Sawyer knew his name.
The questions raised over everything regarding my ailment could have been answered by him.
And we walked right into Rolan’s castle, into his hands, unaware. Sawyer let us.
I turn and vomit again, slightly coughing from the position I’m forced into.
Rolan leans down next to me again and wipes my mouth with an embroidered handkerchief.
“Seeing you like this is hard. Believe me, I take no pleasure from this. If history would have behaved, things would be different, Elivienne. It can all be ours. What was promised and with Father thankfully gone, and you here, I might just get it all.”
Rolan apparates to the entrance and pockets the fabric.
“Do not leave me here!” I scream. “He will find me, Rolan. You know that. Your days are numbered.”
“On the contrary. They will be infinite.” He claps his hands again and disappears.