Chapter 8 Aethra #2
Someone would come, right? Eleos would sense my pain, and Seth would run after me, like he always did. Seraphim and Phaedrus were together, weren’t they? With Percy, they could take on dozens of men.
“No one’s coming for you,” the nobleman breathed.
The knife twisted again, scraping bone. This time, I couldn’t hold back the scream of agony that erupted from my throat.
Ainwir had faced this, too. This pain. But he hadn’t betrayed me.
And I wouldn’t betray them.
If I lost them, I’d be alone.
No more. No more days spent staring in the mirror, utterly alone, living for no purpose at all.
Haimyx yanked his dagger free and stood. Whimpering, I tried to crawl away from him, but the nobleman drove his heel into my wound. Yelping, I tried to grab his boot and pull it off me, but my arm wouldn’t obey. Blood streamed from my shoulder as it lay limply by my side.
Tears streamed down my face as my legs twitched in pain, but I ground my teeth together, refusing to speak.
“I see.” The nobleman’s eyes lit up. “You don’t fear for yourself.” He turned to Haimyx, voice sharpening. “Kill the others. Bring their corpses here when you’re done.”
Nodding, Haimyx turned, cloak flowing behind him. Desperate, I clawed the air, trying in vain to reach him, to stop him.
“No!” I shrieked, watching in horror as he rounded the bend and disappeared.
I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t.
Piano notes rang in the back of my mind. Discordant and discomforting.
Gasping, my head snapped forward, and the world spun. Fiery pain throbbed in my shoulders. Tears slid from my eyes, burning my cheeks as the torment overtook me.
Someone grabbed my chin, lifting my face. Slowly, my vision cleared.
I wasn’t splayed on the ground in a pool of my own blood—I sat on the bench, unharmed and whole. Shackles bound my wrists behind my back. Confused, I stared down at my chest, where agony ripped through my body, but no wounds appeared.
“You look shaken,” the nobleman said. “I take it you had an unpleasant dream?”
Mt gaze darted behind him, toward the piano.
The piano. I’d heard the discordant notes before the torture began and as it finished. This man was a muse.
“We muses cannot affect emotions directly the way psyches can,” he murmured. “But the pain lingers.”
Standing, he peered down on me. “We can sift through your deepest fears again, or you can tell me the truth.”
I tried to speak, but my mouth went dry. My fingers trembled, and my body shook. Closing my eyes, I grimaced as pain tore through me again, my arms splitting as though pierced through to the bone.
Had this man used my subconscious against me? Or did he know everything about me?
Swallowing, I lifted my eyes. “Why are you so insistent?” My voice quivered.
“Because the exiled prince has returned with the foreign maiden. I want to know why.” His eyes darkened. “And I want to know why our Oracle is hiding you from us. Why did she send you out to your death, if not in hopes of burying your body where so many others lie forgotten?”
The Oracle had sworn she hadn’t wanted us falling into Duath Nun’s hands. What better way than to kill us where none would find the remains?
“Silence, again?” The nobleman returned to his piano, fingers trailing across the keyboard. “You’re resilient, for a mere bandit, I’ll give you that.”
“Why . . .” I swallowed. “Do you hate the Oracle?”
His fist curled on the ivory keys. “Why?” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Because they chose her instead of me, and look what she’s done with the privilege! Forsaken her duty. Lied.” He pressed his fist down.
A discordant chord sounded across the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Icelus!” The Oracle’s sharp voice barked. “Stop this at once.”
My eyes flew open. The Oracle stood in the doorway, hands rigidly grasping the frame.
“This woman has no connection to the traitors,” she said. “You have no right to harm her. She is to be given a fair shot at the trials—as are all who stand accused.”
The nobleman named Icelus narrowed his eyes, glancing between us. Raising his hands, he softened his expression. “Perhaps I was being overly cautious. My apologies if I’ve delayed the next event.”
Glowering at the man, the Oracle helped me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she guided me out the doors.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
No. No, I wasn’t.
I needed to see the others. Eleos. Seth. I needed to see them alive and well.
“The next trial awaits,” the Oracle whispered, guiding me down the dim halls. “You, you must listen to my orders.”
Unable to speak, I lifted my chin to look at her.
“Gather the others together. Use your magic to create a safe haven. There, you’ll find salvation.”
A riddle. Maybe I’d understand when I saw the trial.
“This will be your one shot to escape.” She gazed at me gravely. “But so too will it be most likely to claim your lives.” We stopped at an ancient stone door. “I’m sorry.”
Pulling the door open, the Oracle pressed a gentle hand into my back. In my dazed state, it was enough to send me tumbling forward.
My feet slipped from the floor, and I tumbled through the hole waiting beyond the door’s threshold.
I landed in a pile of dirt. Pain screamed through my arms again—where Haimyx had stabbed me.
“Aethra!” Seraphim’s voice dragged me from the darkness. She grabbed my arms, and I hissed in pain. “Are you alright?”
We were trapped in a pit, surrounded by cavern walls on three sides and a heavy iron gate to our north. A spiked ceiling loomed ten paces above our heads.
Seraphim’s hair had come unbound from her braid, and wild strands caressed her cut-up face.
But she was alive.
“No,” I croaked. “I’m not.”
“Whatever comes, stay with me.” She took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
I shook my head. “The Oracle just gave me our ticket out. We need the others.”
Seraphim moved to respond, but grinding steel drew her attention behind us.
The iron gate had begun to rise.