35. 34
Camriel’s fist quivered in the air, and his gaze stayed on me. I couldn’t gather a single thought as he decided if he would hit me.
One of the sunners grabbed the other, stopping him dead. They watched, the first one holding his hand out towards us. It glowed soft and golden. Not just a pledge, but a devotee of the Sun. “Step away from the girl.”
I was too focused on Camriel’s shaking hand and reddening face to see them properly.
Camriel’s hot stare burned into me for another second, then he loosed his punch.
I flinched once more, raising my hands to my face in anticipation of the blow.
But his clenched fist hit into the books beside my head.
I cried out, falling to the floor in shock as the sunners ran forwards and grabbed his arms.
Camriel didn’t resist. “What is this about?” he asked, his voice eerily stable. “I’m not supposed to take the Oath until tomorrow.”
They pulled his arms together, and clamped manacles around each one, as I unravelled the chains from my own wrists. On the floor, everything felt more manageable. With the sunners here, I allowed myself to believe there might be a way out of this.
The first sunner, with the golden mark on his hand glowing like faint torchlight, sneered into his ear. “You’re under arrest for murder.”
Camriel looked at me. Whatever deduction he had made sapped the rest of his strength. This was it. He knew he was caught.
He didn’t fight. He didn’t yell.
Instead, he fell to his knees, and he started to cry. Small, hiccupping noises became a wail. It surprised the sunners, but they kept their hold and their eyes on him as firmly as before.
I slipped the last loop of chain, and pushed myself back to my feet. Walking felt wrong, my world entirely off-kilter. Camriel’s tears, his cries, stuck in my throat with an uncomfortable weight. He was grieving, now. And I hated what that might mean.
I pointed shakily to the empty shelf. “Make him unlock the passage. Some of his victims might still be alive.”
The word victim was like a dagger in me, but I had to see this through. I would find Davian.
Camriel shook his head, gasping against the wracking sobs. “I won’t.”
The second sunner grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, drawing his short sword to the Pain Leader’s neck. “Unlock it, or you die right now.”
Camriel’s face was a red mess of tears and snot. He laughed through the thickness in his throat, and the lump in his neck pressed against the steel of the blade. “You think I give a damn about my own life?”
The sunner paused, moving the sword an inch further away.
I closed the distance to Camriel, and stood over him. I wouldn't let him take this from me. He had taken far too much already.
“It’s over,” I said, as soft as I dared.
Camriel looked at me, and another tear fell. His breaths nearly set off my own tears again, and I forced myself to swallow past it. I would not grieve with this man, and I would not grieve when there were people to save.
“Open it, and maybe someone can survive this.”
Camriel shut his eyes. The sunner still held him by his hair as his lower lip wobbled.
Reluctantly, I touched my hand to his cheek. “It’s over.”
He sobbed out again, a loud keening wail, and I took half a step back, dropping my hand. “It’s not over,” he said, shaking his head, a glob of snot falling from his nose. “Someone will finish it.”
I fell to my knees in front of him. “But not you. Not with Davian.” He opened his eyes, and I begged. “Please, Camriel. Open it.”
He stared at me, sniffing back his tears. Then he nodded.
I glanced up at the sunner holding Camriel’s head, and he nodded, too. I stood as the two men lifted him back to his feet, and cautiously released their hold on him.
Camriel shuffled over to the empty shelf. With his hands behind his back, he turned to his side and attempted to point to a book. He explained how one book needed to be pulled forwards as a hidden button on the side of the shelf was pressed.
I pressed the button as one of the sunners shifted the book. We got it on the second try.
I looked back at Camriel as the secret door swung open. I knew it was sick to feel any sense of gratitude then, for he had likely killed or maimed people I knew. But in that horrible, sick moment of the door opening, he had given me something he didn’t have to; something he didn’t want to.
So, for whatever reason. Knowing he was caught, knowing this was it… I nodded to him.
Camriel took a shaking breath, and his voice cracked as the tears swelled back in his eyes. “Damned Ekrissians.”
And then I was gone.
The first sunner called out after me, but the door was fully open now, and I burst down the stairs below.
My hand drifted along the cold rock wall. My steps were heavy, and every heartbeat swelled in my ears. The staircase was dark, but I could see a hint of candlelight spilling in the distance. “Davian?”
My voice cracked on the word, and I could barely hear it myself. I tried again, and the word was still a strangled cry.
I felt sick with anticipation, every part of me ready to see something I couldn’t face.
The bottom of the stairs gave me no respite, with three doors and no obvious suggestion as to which was the right one. Two of the doors were closed, and one sat ajar in front of me, where the candlelight was coming from.
I took two breaths, my terror making my knees shake as my hands clammed against the wall. “Davian, where are you?”
I waited in the silence for all of a single breath, then I heard a groan.
My stomach flipped as I lurched forwards. I shoved open the door, barely looking at the surroundings. It was a dim room with no windows and a stagnant air. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed there was something glowing on the floor.
But more than that, he was there. The only thing I looked for, the only thing I needed to see.
“Gods’ grave,” I whispered. “Davian!”
He lay on his side, curled up. He wore no shirt, and his back was to me. Saliva filled my mouth as I saw carved lines on his skin. My vision blurred, and I was certain I was about to be sick.
I stumbled forwards.
“Annie?” he whispered.
No time. No time to be sick. He was alive. He was still alive.
I fell to my knees beside him. His mask was gone, and his face was covered in sweat and dirt. I shuffled forwards, pulling his head into my lap. “Davian. Oh no, no.”
He blinked up at me, turning his head to squint. “You’re here.”
I pushed his hair back from his forehead, and found it far too hot. He had some kind of fever. He must have been drugged to keep him still while Camriel carved into him. Gods. The thought alone.
Only his silver eyes kept me from fainting at the image that popped into my head. I took a steady breath through my nose. “I’m here.”
He reached up, his hand so heavy it looked like he could barely move it. He touched my knee and shook his head. “Stop crying, Annie.”
I hadn’t realised I was, and it only made me cry harder. A tear fell off my cheek and onto my dress, and I wiped my face. “I can’t.”
He patted me again. “I’m fine.”
I choked out a horrible noise. “Fine?”
Davian closed his eyes again, and nuzzled into my dress.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He was still alive, and that was something I would thank every God for, every day of my life. But he might not stay that way. He was barely conscious, and likely sedated.
This could kill him, even now.
I couldn’t do anything about the sedation, but I could stem the blood loss. His cuts weren’t bleeding heavily, but they had to be weakening him.
I studied the room through blurred eyes, looking for anything that could help.
I tried not to look at the marks on the floor.
There was a table with ingredients and instruments, some sacks of dark clothing along one side of the room, and papers strewn everywhere.
My eyes landed on a pail in the corner, with rags hanging out over it.
I shuffled back, holding Davian’s head as he protested. I hated settling his head back on the ground, but I had to try to do something.
I ran over to the pail, and noticed some of the rags already had blood on them, and the water was faintly pink. Nearby, there was a ewer of what looked to be fresh water. I grabbed them both, shifting the sloshing pail over to Davian’s side with the ewer under one arm. “Here.”
I plunged a rag into the pail’s water, and then squeezed it over the dirty cuts on his back. The circles weren’t complete, and I blinked away the tears as I focused on washing them clean.
Davian winced as I wiped the canvas of his back.
I murmured my apologies, and wiped his brow of sweat with the cleanest cloth I could find.
Then I pressed one rag-clad hand to the section that was still bleeding at the top of his back, and stroked his hair in my other hand, settling Davian’s head back into my lap.
His eyes were clenched shut, and it took some coaxing to prop him up against me so that I could open his mouth and pour some water in.
He spluttered on the first swallow of water, and I hesitated, but then he took the ewer with unsteady hands and pushed it up, drinking deeply. Then his arms lost their strength, and I caught the clay holder, settling it back next to me.
Davian coughed, and relaxed in my arms.
He would live. He had to.
A table nearby held some pots of herbs, not dissimilar to the room upstairs Fella had nursed us in before. Maybe I could work out something to help him. I knew what to apply for cuts, but if his head was foggy with something else, what if adding more only made him worse?
I sucked in a shaky breath.
“Annie.” His eyes were open again, and he stared at me.
I gave him a wobbly smile. “Davian.”
Behind us, I heard a door open and metal boots clank across the floor. One of the sunners must have come down, and was now searching the rooms.