Chapter One #2
The sulfur stench from the corridor couldn't reach her here.
The room, tucked behind two turns and a heavy door of riveted iron, that she shut behind her.
Instead, she breathed in tallow smoke, the bite of heated metal, and the faded scent of the tallow soap cake Valkyrie had smuggled in, now whittled down to a sliver on the shelf.
Beneath it all, the deep mineral tang of polished rocks and metal, cooling on her workbench.
She pressed her back against the closed door.
Outside, somewhere in the palace, the volcanic vents groaned and hissed, a low rumble she felt through the soles of her bare feet, vibrating up through the floor.
But in here, the sound muffled to a distant pulse, almost like a heartbeat. Almost safe.
Valkyrie stood near the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her golden hair crushed against the stone doorjamb.
Valkyrie was tall, almost a full head and more above Sutrelle, with a lean, athletic build.
Her storm-gray eyes swept the space the way they always did: checking corners, cataloguing items, measuring threats, searching for anything amiss.
Old scars traced pale lines along her forearms where they emerged from the rolled sleeves of her long coat, a battered thing the color of wet clay that hung past her knees and concealed, at least three blades.
The coat smelled of oiled leather and ash.
Valkyrie’s jaw set in the same hard mask she wore everywhere, though the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction once the door clanged shut behind them.
She positioned herself between Sutrelle and the only entrance without seeming to think about it. A habit, drilled deep as bone.
When she was young, she'd loved the amount of space in her room, until she'd searched the castle to find that her room was one of the shabbiest. Even Valkyrie's room had been furnished nicer- and she was a prisoner.
Not that Sutrelle cared; her room was her own space.
No one else entered, but Valkyrie, and only two servants ever came to summon her if needed.
Where some might see the lack of furniture as a slap in the face, Sutrelle took advantage of the space and used the vacant area to store her books and all her mother's things.
Sutrelle wasn't sure her father was aware she'd taken her mother's remaining possessions and put them in her room, but he'd never asked about them either.
Sutrelle sat on her bed, staring at her collection.
A shelf of small wooden carved figurines Valkyrie had made for her as a child.
A small sewing kit she used to mend her clothing when damaged.
And, favorite of all, several groupings of stones she spent years collecting and polishing.
She stared at her hands and pulled from deep within her.
They glowed red, then white-hot as her magic pulsed through her veins, awaiting her command. A command she rarely uttered.
"Do you think I'll be able to take my things when I leave with Thadren?"
Sutrelle’s gut clenched.
"No," said Valkyrie without pretense. "Because you aren't leaving with Thadren." Valkyrie strode to Sutrelle’s bed, pulled out a dragon's hide bag, and tossed it to Sutrelle.
"Did you hear something? Is father making us live here?" She tried not to let her fear ring through in her voice.
"I've arranged a way out for us."
Sutrelle stared at Valkyrie. "What?"
Valkyrie hurried to the closet. "Take only things you cannot live without. Nothing of little consequence, and nothing that can be used against you."
"I... I don't understand."
Valkyrie grabbed a pair of plain pants and a muddy brown shirt from the back of Sutrelle's closet. "Put these on."
Sutrelle stared at the clothes. "But, Valkyrie-"
Valkyrie grabbed Sutrelle by the arms. "No. I’m no longer Valkyrie. I am Val, and you are Elle. I've made arrangements for us. I'm getting you out of here."
Val? Elle? Were they changing their names? What good would that do?
"How?" Sutrelle asked.
Val’s golden braid swung back and forth as she shook her head. "There's no time to explain. I secured us passage. There’s a place we can go. You can have a life free of your father, Thadren, and everything else. A place where you can be someone different."
Sutrelle bit the skin of her thumb. "But..."
Val grabbed her arms and pinned them down.
"I promised your mother I would take care of you.
I promised to keep you safe. I can't do that once you are married.
I've been working on this for close to a year.
I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure it would come through, and I didn't want to get your hopes up. But it came through."
Sutrelle swallowed hard. She wanted to leave. Gods knew she did. She wanted to be free, but... fear gripped her. If her father ever found her, the punishment would most certainly be death.
She shook her head. "They'll find us."
"Here you will never be anything more than you are right now. A rag doll to be used and tossed about by monsters. But you are so much more. Isn't the risk of death worth the possibility of true freedom?"
Sutrelle glanced at her hand, feeling the power inside her again.
The power no one knew about except Val. Her father's fire and her mother's magic.
Combined. Val had sworn her never to use her power because the moment her father found out about it, she would be his slave to his destructive will forever.
Forced to use her magic to harm and maim and conquer.
Things that would break Elle in the end.
"Come on." Val shoved the clothes into Sutrelle's hands. "Put them on."
Sutrelle inspected the clothes. Freedom. No more beatings. No more fear. The opportunity to figure out what she wanted to do with her life instead of being told. Wasn't that worth the chance?
She stripped off her gown and surveyed her belongings, trying to decide which were most important.
Her things. But they weren't her things. Not really. Everything in her room had either been her mother's or something secreted away without anyone knowing.
Sutrelle walked to the trunk in the corner and opened the lid.
Inside a locket called to her. She'd made it out of scraps of metal she'd found around the castle.
Mostly cast-offs from broken weapons. It had been the one thing she'd used her fire magic to make, melting and shaping the metal with her hands, literally.
She ran her fingertip over the intricate design etched into it.
She slipped the locket around her neck, glad she would finally be able to wear it daily instead of only inside her room. It warmed her chest where it sat between her breasts. Inside, a portrait of her mother, drawn by Val, gave her strength. She picked up a worn journal as well.
Her books were replaceable. Her clothing as well. Not that she figured she would need long, drab gowns where they were going. The only other things she wanted had been her mother's.
She grabbed the dragon's hide bag, walked to her shelf, and began putting her figurines and rocks inside.
"Hurry," Val urged. "We have a long trip ahead. And we need to make sure we arrive before anyone notices we're gone."
“Don’t worry,” said Sutrelle. “Within the hour, the orgy will begin, and we will be the last thing anyone thinks of. Even Thadren.”