Chapter 5
Five
Elora
A sharp pain pierces my abdomen so I curl onto my side, hoping the pressure will give me a sense of fullness. Since the last failed attempt to harvest my magick, the meals sent to me have been more and more sparse. I have no doubt this is intentional. Galen is doing his best to whittle me down to nothing so that I’m more cooperative for harvesting.
It infuriates me that it’s working.
I have never felt more weak, even in my darkest days after my mother died. And with her voice gone from my head, the tether I’ve become reliant on, it feels as though there’s nothing keeping me afloat.
This is it . This is the moment I break.
My head spins, so I close my eyes, pushing against my stomach as tightly as I can. My consciousness drifts in and out, images taking hold in the otherwise dark corners of my cell that make me less and less certain what is real and what is inside my head.
I don’t fight my body this time and let sleep take over. My dizziness subsides as I close my eyes and drift to sleep.
There’s nothing before me but inky black.
“I’m here with you,” a voice whispers against the back of my neck.
Spinning around, I stretch my hand out. “Sorin?”
I reach and I reach, but I can’t find him.
“I’ve missed you, love.” His voice ghosts across my skin. His fingers are feather-light against my jaw and even in the impermeable dark, his touch is familiar and comforting. “When this is all over, I promise we’ll go away. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet, just like you like.” His lips find mine, and my knees go slack. “But right now, you need to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask, savoring the warmth of his body next to mine, even if I can’t see it.
“I have to go.” He kisses the back of my hand before slipping away from my reach. “I’ll see you after.”
“Wait.” I grapple for his shirt, anything to grab onto but my hands swat around nothing but the darkness. “Don’t leave.” I rub my eyes, trying desperately to see but it’s no use. “What do I need to do?”
I bolt awake, sweat settling on the back of my neck and upper lip. My lungs push against my chest, my hands trembling at my sides.
I rub my chest until my heart slows to a healthier rhythm, taking a few deep breaths. “Just a dream.”
There’s a creak from the door at the top of the stairs.
“Great,” I mumble as I wait for Galen to join me in my cell. Wait for him to fill me with that awful tonic and wait for the guards to haul me up the stairs. My mind drifts to my dream, of Sorin’s touch and his words.
There’s a pause on the stairs, boots coming to a heavy stop, so I tilt my head to get a better listen. It’s amazing what the body can do. Without much light, my hearing has sharpened. Whereas before my capture, I wouldn’t have noticed how many people descended the stairs, now I can easily identify that there is only one set of boots instead of two. Peculiar given Galen never visits without a guard, too cowardly to face me alone.
The steps resume as the oil lantern on the wall flicks on and into the light of the flame steps not Galen, not a guard, but…
Sorin?
My stomach somersaults, all thoughts of hunger lost. My head spins. A man with dark hair and a sharp jaw begins to take shape through the dim light. I fight the urge to grip my chest. To soothe the crack splintering through. Pulling myself to my feet, I brace my hand against the wall for support.
“Hello,” he says.
My chest deflates.
Not Sorin, but King Roman.
He stands casually on the other side of my cell, dressed in a navy top and dark leather pants. No armor, no extravagant garb, which I would have expected from the king. It’s been years since I’ve been in Valebridge, and while Roman and I never met directly, my chest tightens at all the familiarity. While the angle of his face is so similar to Sorin, it’s in Roman’s eyes that lies the biggest difference. Bright green shining beneath full, furrowed brows.
He watches me, his eyes roaming over my face then down to my shackled wrists. “Do you not bow for your king?”
Scoffing, I take an unsteady step forward. “I’ll bow to my king when I see him next.”
I inch my way to the bars of my cell, glancing upward at Roman. He’s taller than Sorin, but slimmer. His shadow incases me like an insect under a boot, but I’m not afraid of this man who claims to be the ruler of Teravie.
“Where is your partner?” I ask through gritted teeth. The voices in my head thunder loudly, their disapproval dripping with every syllable.
The king doesn’t flinch, but a small smile twitches at his lips.
His silence grates me, so I ask him another question. “What do you want?”
Several more moments of weighted silence fill the small space between us, my fingernails dig into my palms.
“You know my brother,” he finally says, more of a statement than a question.
His words catch the breath in my lungs, freezing them there. He crosses his arms, that slight smile stretching across his lips. I struggle to regain my focus. My eyes find his again, and it’s only now that I remember his age. That he and I are merely a year apart.
Nodding, I hold my gaze. “Yes, I know Sorin.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw when I mention Sorin’s name. But he’s quick to regain indifference, smoothing a few wrinkles from his tunic.
“Again I ask what is it that you want?” My stomach aches from hunger, but I ignore it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of sitting or backing down.
He cocks his head to the side, his dark curls catching in the dim light. The same dark brown as Sorin’s, and my stomach churns. “I want to know where he is. Where he could be.”
I take a step backward, my laughter causing more pain to my already screaming stomach. “You’re the king, find him yourself.” I curl my lip, eyes narrowing.
If they haven’t found Sorin, he must not be in Loxley.
All the possibilities of where Sorin and the others could be race through my mind, but Roman’s quiet laughter brings my attention back to him. Uncrossing his arms and stretching them above his head, he grips the bars.
“Well aren’t you a pretty, feral little thing.” He smirks and when a small dimple forms on his right cheek, bile rises in my throat. “Galen said you were a handful.”
“Don’t speak his name to me.” The words are venom from my tongue, and I wish for a moment I had Ruse’s teeth instead of my own. Bigger teeth, bigger bite. My legs gives out, and I drop to the floor to rest my back against the bars so that I face away from Roman. “He’s a snake and you are no better.”
Roman hmmm’s from behind me, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the iron bars. “Maybe that’s true,” he says. “But what good is a snake if there isn’t a mouse. And you, mouse, have something I need.”
My heartbeat quickens and my breaths become short and painful.
My magick.
He’s come for a try at harvesting my Dyrsjel magick. It’s only a matter of time before one of them is successful with it; they'll control the Stones. And the wolves… I bite my lip to stifle a cry.
Ruse.
I don’t even know if she’s alive and that scares me more than anything. Glancing at the scar on my arm, I shudder remembering the painful incision from the enchanted blade I’ll have to endure again.
“So, is it that you’ve come to learn about Sorin’s whereabouts or you’ve come to take a turn at harvesting my magick?” Steadying myself, I turn to face him again. “Which is it?”
Roman peers down at me, his smile is shy but there. Kneeling down, he joins me on the ground.
My brows raise. Odd for a man of his power to sit so comfortably upon the floor. I’m stunned as I watch him stretch his legs out, resting his head against the wall across from my cell, as if it were put here just for him.
“It’s quiet down here,” he says through a sigh.
“Is this a game to you? A way to pass the time? Shouldn’t the king have something better to do?”
Roman laughs, the sound bouncing off the empty cavernous room. His smile is wide, cheeks dimpling. “No games, Dyrsjel,” he says. “I haven’t come to take your magick. Yet.” Our eyes lock and it sends a wave of uncertainty through me. “Tell me of this brother, where he may be or what you think he’s planning, and perhaps I’ll pay you a favor.”
“No.”
Roman smiles again, quick and closed lipped. “Fine. If you won’t tell me where you think he is, at least tell me something about him that could be useful.”
My eyes narrow, arms crossed across my chest. “Feeling sentimental?”
“Something like that.” Roman’s face grows serious, the playful smile tucked away, and the stern look of a ruler snapped in place. “I’ll up the ante,” he says, stretching his arms again. “A hot meal, daily, in exchange for any sliver of information you’re willing to give.”
I lick my lips then bite the inside of my cheek so as to not do it again. “No.”
His green eyes widen, something wicked dancing in them before he nods and stands. “Suit yourself.”
My stomach growls, the pain cutting through my entire abdomen. As Roman moves farther away, panic sets in.
I haven’t eaten in days. If I could get a meal, perhaps I could regain some of my strength. Would have better chances fighting the guards again when they come for me. And more than that, I don’t have to tell Roman anything truthful about Sorin. I could easily spin a web of lies and throw him off course.
Roman takes three steps up the stairs, before I’m pulling myself up by the iron bars.
“Wait!”
Roman stops, turning to face me again.
“A hot meal.” My stomach rumbles again. Sharpness scrapes at my insides and for a moment my vision goes white. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about Sorin,” I pant out, desperate to lie down, “if you can ensure I get a hot meal daily .”
He has no reason to believe I’ll tell him anything truthful so either he is na?ve and careless, or he sees right through me, and I have yet to discover his intentions.
“Deal.”