Chapter 4
The next day the cycle repeated itself. Then again the day following. And the one after.
Wake up, get dragged to the room with the raised dais and large painting, where Adis stood, and stare at his shiny shoes.
Read until the light ran out, receive one glass of water.
Study, even though my stomach ached due to the lack of food and my vision swam.
Then after, get dragged back to the room for a few fitful hours of sleep and a measly crust of bread.
And every day, I made sure to look at the eyes of Adis, Markus, and Syrus discreetly.
Every day, the circle of gold was present.
Nothing else seemed to change however, and I wracked my brain to try and decipher what the circle of gold could mean. I wished more than anything that I could flip through the black book looking for answers, but alas, I was never allowed to bring the book to my cell.
“Too dangerous,” in the words of Adis.
But what he didn’t know was that those little words, the ones delegating that I was not to study or read on my own, told me something I didn’t know before. And that was the fact that whatever I was doing was tied to both the books and reading. And maybe magic.
At first, I tried to keep track of the days, but that aspiration ended as my hunger and tiredness grew.
My tattoo healed at least, to the point where I barely felt it as I bound myself each morning.
I didn’t have a looking glass, but a twisted look at my side from time to time revealed that the tattoo had healed nicely.
I would never admit it, but over the course of the unknown number of days I had spent in Adis’ palace of a house, I had even grown to like the green color.
It was a small reminder of my brother, and the fact that though I missed him, and my cousin, at least I no longer had to wear lifts in my shoes.
My arm had healed too, though the brown A and C taunted me day and night.
To the point where I had to remind myself that I was staying here so my brother could live.
Despite my lack of ability to keep track of time, on what had to be at least seven days into my tenure as a reader, the unthinkable happened.
My period came.
Binding my chest and disguising my voice was one thing. But cleaning bloody cloths and somehow getting them back for use again was another. When I had left the house on that fateful day, I had assumed I would be able to do so stealthily.
But as the Reader, who was unable to leave the room without either Markos or Syrus escorting me, there wasn’t a chance. Unless . . .
“Markos?” I called out early on the morning of my discovery, rolling over the words I had been practicing in my head since the night before. The cramps had woken me far before dawn.
No response came.
“Markos?” I called again just to be certain.
Again, there was silence.
Taking a chance, I pulled at the wooden door, which had been my nemesis since my arrival. To my surprise, it gave easily.
Peering out into the pre-dawn lit hallways, with all the candles not yet lit, told me what I needed to know. It was early, and I didn’t have long.
Knowing that what I was about to do could end in my death, I took a deep breath, then took my chance, heading for the end of the halls and peering in each door as I passed.
Or attempting to, as most were closed—either occupied or not meant for me to see into.
The door to the exterior where I was instructed to dump my waste everyday was locked tight.
The ones that were opened revealed empty rooms similar to my own, a darkened kitchen, and finally, to my luck, a room which must be used for laundry, as there were wash basins, a pump, and lines for drying.
Not wanting to waste time, I rushed in, pumping a small bit of water into the nearest pail, just enough to wash the bloody rags, scrubbing them with my fingernails.
It was a rushed wash at best, with scared glances over my shoulder every few seconds.
I had a plan though, if I was caught. I would claim a bloody nose then beg for forgiveness.
It couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes before I finished, soggy rags gripped in my hands, as I turned from the laundry room to make a run for my own.
But before I reached the doorframe, my eyes caught on the dark looking glass hung on the stone wall. More specifically, what I saw reflected back at me.
I was much thinner now than when I arrived, and I knew I would never be able to pass for Milo with my haggard appearance.
As my face had thinned out, I noticed with a grimace that it had become a bit more feminine.
My frame had also become thinner, which was perhaps a good thing as it had allowed me to bind my chest easier.
Regardless, I would need to ensure I was more careful going forward, as someone would be able to tell if they looked more closely.
That wasn’t what caught my attention, though, it was my eyes. My brown irises, the ones I shared with my twin, were no longer just brown. No, they had a circle of gold too.
Just like the guards.
Just like Adis.
My breath caught, and I leaned closer to the mirror.
I don’t know how long I stood there, turning my chin this way and that to ensure my irises weren’t just a trick of the light. But it was too long, and noises reached my ears from down the hall.
Panic swelled anew in my gut, and I peered out of the laundry room doorway, looking both ways down the hall.
Though I heard movement, I didn’t see anything, and I let out a breath as I stepped into the hallway and edged my way along, trying to stick to what little shadows remained.
The sun was nearly over the horizon if the pink light in the hallway was any indication.
It only took a moment for my luck to run out, however.
A large woman stepped out of one of the previously closed doors, turning my direction.
She was broad and tall, her dark hair braided down her back, a white apron gripped in her fist, and her gaze downcast as she moved her broad frame into the kitchen.
I had heard rumors of the tall, part-giant people from north of Heimland, but I was momentarily shocked at having seen one in person for the first time.
I held my breath, trying to make myself as a small as possible and sending a quick prayer up to the gods. I hoped she hadn’t seen me.
At first, I assumed that everything that had happened was in my favor, but as I pressed myself up against the wall, trying to figure out how to pass the open doorway as slyly as possible, she poked her head around the doorframe, her gaze colliding with mine.
“You better hurry back to your room. Markus and Syrus will begin the rounds soon.”
That was all the encouragement I needed.
I took off at a run toward my cell, counting the doors ahead so I could turn right into it when I found it.
I ached to ask the cook why she hadn’t turned me in, or called for guards, but there hadn’t been time.
I would have to wonder, and plan my future runs to the laundry room earlier in the morning.
Heart pounding, I rounded the corner into my room, sliding the doors shut just as I swore I could hear a door opening down the hall.
Hands filled with sopping wet cloths, I dashed to the chamber pot, wringing them out a final time before glancing about and wondering just where I could put them in this small box of a room.
Footsteps approached and I urged my brain to think faster.
Just as I heard the creak of my door opening, and Syrus called out the morning wake-up call, I laid them across my pack situated behind the door.
It wasn’t the best solution, but it was the only one I had.
My heart was racing, my lungs barely able to handle the breaths I was forcing into them in rapid succession.
Breathe, don’t pass out. Please.
Moments later, the door opened again and my daily stale roll was placed in my hand.
I had long gotten over the fact that it was stale though, shoving it in my mouth as hurriedly as I could between sips of water.
My stomach protested, aching for the eggs or bowls of grains I had once eaten daily for breakfast with Collum and Milo before we prepared for our ruse (and Collum for bed).
At that thought, my chest ached, and I wondered what had become of my brother and cousin.
I hoped they were living well and that my brother had chosen to propose to Helene.
Though I would never have a chance with Roger now, at least something good had come out of this unique form of torture I was experiencing.
Even as I assured myself that both Collum and Milo were better off without me, worry curled in my gut, increasing my discomfort.
I was still in the same town as my cousin and brother, and I hoped my brother had done the smart thing and changed his appearance immediately.
Because while I was stuck in this prison, Adis wasn’t, and the last thing we needed was to accidentally see me about town when I was supposed to be trapped here.
Especially because he would be put to death.
The anxiety consumed me, and my eating slowed to the point where I struggled to swallow my last few bites. I tried to push the worries away. I had enough of my own issues, Collum and Milo could take care of themselves.
The resolution came just in time, as the door was pushed open and Markus held out his hand for me.
Begrudgingly, I placed my arm in his hold, allowing him to drag me down the hall to empty my chamber pot into the pit designated for such purposes before being dragged back to my room to replace the pot before being tugged once more toward the room where I read.
It was hard to stay focused and not to let my gaze stray to the potted ferns by the door, which I knew could be toxic when boiled and ingested.