Chapter 3
We weaved our way back through the barracks, which I was no closer to solving the maze of than when I arrived.
At some point, my pack had been pushed back into my hands.
It felt lighter, but until I was given a moment to breathe, there was no way for me to verify that anything had been taken from my possession.
After passing through the barracks, once again causing my eyes undue stress, I was shepherded down the street to one of the most opulent houses I had ever seen.
Although I was immediately disappointed we weren’t fully leaving town, I was too in awe of the structure to worry about that now.
The palace, or whatever it was, was large, with massive stone columns holding up the thick roof.
It was two levels, just as many of the other houses on the street, and it was decorated with colorful tiles in various areas, breaking up the monotonous white stone.
As I was shoved through the gaping doorway, I was suddenly sure our entire house could have been pushed through as well.
Inside the massive entrance, there was an open courtyard, so one could feel the rays of the sun during the day and spy on the stars at night.
To my left and right, there were halls that went on forever, with closed doors that led to what had to be an impressive number of rooms. I wasn’t given any time to look around, though, as the grip on my arm was unrelenting.
I had no idea how the guards and viscount were used to moving so fast, but I wasn’t about to slow them down by asking.
Near the end of the open courtyard, I was shoved through a smaller door, which, to my utter surprise, led to a dark hallway filled with more doors. I was suddenly certain the entire town of Ralheim could probably live in this palace of a house. A thought that turned my stomach.
As soon as we were out of the open, I was shoved to the floor in such a rough manner I barely had time to put my hands out to catch myself, and in doing so, I failed to notice that my pack had been taken from me a second time.
It wasn’t until I caught my breath, peering up through my dark hair, that I even noticed what was held in the viscount’s outstretched hand.
The black book with the gold writing.
I grimaced.
I was a dead woman walking.
“You can read this, no?” The viscount peered down at me, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the book.
My parents had told us never to admit we spoke the language of the Seid.
In Ralheim, witchcraft was illegal, just like twins.
And only a decade before, there had been a hunt—called the purge—to eliminate all the Seid, and the Seid language, from Ralheim history.
It had been carried out by Viscount Adis’ father, and anyone over the age of sixteen was put to death.
Thus, costing most of the children of Ralheim our parents.
And that had been the second purge in the last century.
I opened my mouth to lie—
“Don’t lie to me. The only reason you are of any use to me right now is because I found this book. Now, tell me, can you read it?” He inclined his chin to one of his guards (Markos, I think?), who delivered a swift kick to my side. Right into my still-healing tattoo.
I swallowed a painful cry, nodding furiously.
“Say it,” he demanded, his shiny black shoes moving closer to where I still remained on my hands and knees.
I could nearly see my reflection in them they were so shiny.
Would I be killed for knowing the language of the Seid?
There wasn’t time to debate before his shoe lifted, and I squeaked out my answer.
“Yes, sir.” I gasped, immediately closing my eyes for the punishment I was sure was coming.
“Excellent.” He let out a chuckle before his reflective shoes moved away.
I finally felt confident enough to move, sitting back on my heels, and my gaze followed his motions as he paced back and forth.
The room we were in was dim, but I could just make out a raised portion of the floor behind where Adis paced, a covered table with candles resting on it.
Beyond that was a wall, covered with a large painting.
I couldn’t make out the painting, but the frame glinted in the candlelight.
Gold. “You see, Otho is above using magic to win the war . . . But I am not. Ralheim means everything to me. I know some of your kind escaped the purge, and now you are to help me gain magic, do you understand?”
I shook my head, though I could read the Seid language, my parents had never said anything about using it to gain magic. According to them, magic had been dead for generations—bred out of the family lines. “Sir, it doesn’t work that—”
Before I could finish, I was slapped across the face, my head jolting to the side, spittle flying from my mouth.
“That is where you are wrong. I knew Seid; I knew what they were capable of. And I knew why my father felt they should disappear.” He stopped his pacing, moving closer to me, leaning down to breathe in my face. “You will help me gain magic, or you will go straight to the gallows, understood?”
I gulped. At least with me at the gallows Milo would be safe forever. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” Before I could blink, one of the guards was grabbing my wrist, flipping my arm over before pressing a red-hot piece of iron to it.
I couldn’t stop myself, I screamed.
Steam rose from my wrist as the iron was removed, leaving a singed mark on the inside of my forearm.
Tears poured down my cheeks—I couldn’t stop them.
I had thought the tattoo was bad, but it was nothing compared to the ache I felt as I watched the steam rise from my arm, feeling as if metaphorical bits of my skin were floating away on the breeze.
There were two letters burned into my forearm. An A and a C.
“Take Mr. Potson to his room.” Adis snapped his fingers, and before I could attempt to inhale a full breath, I was grabbed roughly yet again.
I tried to reach for the book in his hand, as my bag was once again over my shoulder, but he snatched it out of my reach.
“You can earn this back. There will be no reading of books outside of my presence, understand?”
“Yes . . . sir.” I gasped.
“And Mr. Potson sounds too formal for a man in my employ. From now on, you will just be the Reader.”
“The . . . Reader?” The title sounded foreign on my lips.
“Yes, Reader. You are dismissed.”
With a second snap of his fingers, I was led away with my pack, sans book, and pushed down the dark hall. I counted six wooden doors before we paused, and the one we stood next to was forced open.
“Here’s your room,” Markos, or Syrus, announced.
Compared to the opulence of the rest of the home, the room was fetid.
It was dark, with only a small window for light.
It was all stone, with nothing but a small cot in the corner.
I squinted, taking notice of a threadbare cloth folded at the end.
That must be my blanket. There was also a bucket in the corner, making this seem more like a prison cell than a bedroom.
“Bucket must be emptied daily. You will stay here until you are sent for.” One of the guards grumbled. “And you will not, under any circumstance, leave the grounds. If you run, and we catch you, the punishment is death.”
I gulped, but my feet carried me into the room nonetheless.
Tired of not knowing their names, I asked, “Thank you . . . Markos?” He dipped his chin, affirming that the taller of the two guards, the one with the hair tone closest to mine, was Markos. Turning my head, I took in Syrus, committing his slight frame, blond hair, and shorter stature to memory.
“Remember, you don’t leave the room until you are sent for. Food will be delivered.” Markos reiterated.
I nodded, struggling to swallow over the lump in my throat. This was prison after all.
Without anything more, they closed the door, leaving me to my thoughts, pain, and the mysterious dripping sound that wouldn’t stop.
“Your first command is to read me this book.” Viscount Adis’s voice raked down my spine as he tossed a book at my feet.
I had barely slept the night before, my thoughts a whirlwind, my eyes just deigning to close before they were forced to open again as someone banged on my door, loudly.
I’d barely had time to dress, binding myself and ensuring I was presentable, before I was dragged in front of the viscount by an all too serious Markos.
My arm ached. Though it was nothing compared to when the iron had first been pressed to my flesh, the pain lingered, making it difficult to focus on the present.
The book was held out in front my face.
“Take it you idiot.”
I reached for the book. The red cover with gold lettering revealed nothing of its contents, and, remaining on my hands and knees, I flipped to the first page. The words swam in front of me. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“Are you stupid?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he stalked closer. I turned more pages hastily, looking for something I might be able to read.
“No . . . s-sir,” I stuttered as I took a deep breath and some of the words finally came into focus. It was the Seid language, but it was a version I had never seen before. It wasn’t the book I had come with. My lip quivered.
“That’s written in the Seid language, is it not?” His shiny black shoe tapped on the floor in the corner of my eye.
“Yes, sir, but this is a dialect I am unfamiliar with.” My heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to string together the sentence in the middle of the page. I hadn’t read anything other than the black book since before . . .
Viscount Adis huffed, but it seemed he had been expecting that answer, and soon the black book was tossed roughly to the floor in front of me. I didn’t lower the red book.
“You’ll start with this one. You can study the red book in my presence, and I expect you to be able to read it by the end of the week.”