Chapter 7
Alora
If I close my eyes I can still feel Lord Velroy’s slimy breath on my neck. His grip still etched into my mind. I hate that he’s made me feel weak and vulnerable, that he almost took from me. That he did take from me. It might not have progressed to that but he did steal from me.
I can’t help but feel the filth on my skin, like I’ll never be clean again.
Right now I miss the warmed pools of Rivers End.
If only I could sink beneath the surface of those waters and let out the screams that burn in my chest to be free.
If only I could sink my fingers into the sand at the bottom of those pools and rake it over my skin to wash away the traces of him.
I wish I had opened his brain under my heel, but the truth was that he could have easily done that to me earlier.
He was a Melder. I hadn’t expected that. It was foolish of me to assume all magical folk in Astoria would be sympathetic to our cause. Of course I knew that both sides of this war had people from magical lines and nonmagical.
It’s difficult for me to understand how those in alignment with the king, and possessing magic, wouldn’t see his treatment as cruelty.
I mean, the bastard has a brood of women for breeding, even though he can’t father a child, and men for pleasure.
Magical folk who had lives and independence before they were sequestered to the king’s menagerie.
Horror stories have only just started surfacing in the last few turns, but the king has been using us as bargaining chips with the rest of the continent. Some of us fled to nearby kingdoms that welcomed us as kin.
“Goddess help me.” My fragmented voice squeaks out of my throat.
The numbness I felt earlier trickles through my veins, slowly adding to the reservoir of emotions I’ve locked back. Each drop threatens to crack my barricade.
I suck my lip between my teeth and roll it back and forth. My eyes feel weary, haze forming in my peripherals when I stare too long.
I can’t tell how much time has passed since The Devourer brought me back. Upon his cold deliverance into this shit hole, I immediately sat in the farthest corner with only the tattered remnants of my dress to cushion the floor.
If I was going to have to endure another unpleasant visit from Lord Velroy, I’d be ready and this time he would meet my booted foot.
My stomach roils at the thought of potentially seeing him again. I’d already tried to forget the events of earlier, but some wounds weren’t superficial. He’d done exactly what he wanted, he rattled me.
“Godsdamn it!” The shriek echoes around me as I pick up the silver bowl and throw it as hard as I can against the wall, water splashing haphazardly on the floor.
The messy, chaotic trail mimics the storm in my mind.
“Get it together, Alora. You can survive this. You’ve survived worse.”
I repeat the reassurance like a prayer. But instead of calming me, all it does is make me feel more helpless. I’m afraid of what will happen if the last ends of my sanity fray and what will be left of me if I accept that I’m not as strong as I pretend.
In an effort to distance the barrage of thoughts, I stand and start counting my steps. Night must be high as the temperature around me feels uncomfortably cool against my dirty skin.
I walk towards the flickering lantern. Worrying my lip between my teeth to the point blood rises to the surface, I reach for the glowing lamp and check the oil level. Being left in here, alone and in the dark, would be my personal nightmare. Alone, like Leeson is.
I haven’t had any sign of Caym or the rest of The Hidden.
They couldn’t have gotten me a sign while I’m locked in this room anyways with the iron culling bands on me.
No mindpath could have whispered into my brain while I’ve been stuck here and my magic revoked and ravens wouldn’t be able to enter the windowless space.
A soft tap at the door has my head snapping in that direction. I quickly retreat to the far corner. I doubt Lord Velroy would knock, but he has shown he’s no better than a cat that toys with prey.
Silence ensues.
Unsure if I should do anything or if I imagined the sound, I wait. A soft tap comes again, followed by a gruff voice.
“Commander Viren, Alora, I’m entering now, don’t throw anything.”
The Devourer.
Now I wish I hadn’t thrown the water bowl.
The door pushes open and I stand still. My hands close and then flex open as I stretch my fingers. I make a point to lay them flat against the fabric draped on my thighs, hoping that I look unbothered.
He walks in, holding a lantern, surprisingly put together. His hair is pulled back into a dark knot at the nape of his neck. His black shirt buttoned all the way and tucked into his equally neat pants. He is the incarnate of the darkest void in the sky, where stars are swallowed into nothingness.
I look expectantly at him, annoyance rolling off me.
“Well, why are you here? Have you decided to let me stab you before you go and use your cursed magic on someone else?” Lifting my hand toward him, I open my palm to him. “If you’d deliver my dagger and tell me where to place the blow, I’ll happily do it. Maybe even twice.”
He doesn’t move closer to me. Even from here I can see the small upturn of a smirk. Bastard.
“Not many would speak to me that way.” His gaze lingers on my ripped hem, and his face falls flat and stony again.
“I’m here to talk to you about tomorrow, or rather this morning, as we’re well past the high moons now.”
My throat dries. I had assumed there would be more time to plan an escape.
“The king must be threatened by our antics, which I could assume means we’re doing a fine job at irritating him if he wants me dead.”
His face doesn’t reveal anything.
I prod further, “The movement must be making more noise across the kingdoms than we anticipated.”
Shifting my eyes down to my feet I continue. “Perhaps he isn’t as popular as he assumes.”
The Devourer interrupts me, voice quiet. “I’m the one who decided to move your execution to this day.”
My eyebrows jerk up, mouth falling open. I feel the color drain from my face, the numbness returning in a rush. Confusion quickly turns to anger. My body drops against the damp wall and slowly slumps to the floor.
This is it. Everything I’ve ever fought for feels meaningless when confronted with my death. Rage bubbles within me and unbridles my tongue as if I could lash The Devourer with my sharp words.
“You’re as wicked as King Euron, as unfeeling and vile as he is.
Unexpectedly another man's voice booms through the doorway.
“Kassiel, we need to talk.”
It’s unfamiliar to me who speaks and I can’t decipher the tone.
“What do you need?” The Devourer’s words are clipped but his gaze on me remains soft.
“It’s about Orlin, he’s pissed that you’re not waiting for King Euron’s approval,” the man replies.
Approval of what?
The Devourer pinches the bridge of his nose and utters, “Fuck me.”
Releasing his grip, he looks up to the ceiling and stares. His face hardens before he replies again.
“I’ll be right there, Rune. Stall him if you can.”
The soft squeak of the door closing is the only answer that comes. The latch clicks and I stare at the figure cloaked in ebony before me, a stark reminder of who he serves and how he lives differently from the rest of us who are born with magic.
I tilt my head to the side and ask the only thing that I can think of, “How could you choose this for me?”
The question is silly, he’s the royal executioner, this is very well his only job.
“Does the king know of your plans to not send me to his menagerie?”
“His majesty hasn’t received the raven yet, so no. He isn’t aware. I haven’t told him of your rarity, only Rune knows. Orlin also is unaware.” He lifts his chin in resolve.
I focus on the details of his face. If he wasn’t The Devourer, damnit, he would be rather handsome. His bold brow bone is set and the muscles in his chiseled jaw taut.
He’s cloaked in ebony, the shadows clinging to him like they’ve found their salvation.
I’m even more confused, my chest tightens as if a thread has pulled. Why would he rather me die than give me a chance at life, even if it meant I’d be under the king’s control?
“Why do you hate me so?” I try to bite the words off, but they are spoken before I can stop myself.
“Why do you stand for a king that culls us like cattle?” The pitch in my voice is higher than I’d like but the reservoir of emotion starts to crack under this new revelation.
“How can you watch our people be used for unspeakable things?” The echo of my yell causes a twitch in his face.
“I’ve seen more than you could ever understand. There are far more unspeakable things than even you know, little warrior.” His voice is flat and detached, the nickname sounding more like a curse.
In the time it’s taken him to speak, he stands before me, towering over my frame.
I swallow, unable to speak.
“I will not use the Mors Finalem on you.”
Not on me?
His hand slowly moves to touch my face, as if it can’t be stopped, but hesitates before it makes contact with my chin. It causes my skin to pebble with his proximity.
“I know you believe me to be a monster—cruel and unfeeling. I am not that.” He’s right on one account. He is a monster. He’s shown as much in his compliance with my people’s treatment.
“Then let me be free, at the least, give me a chance to escape even if it’s from the menagerie...” The soft whisper leaves my lips, my eyes pleading with his.
His jade eyes sparkle and beckon me. They speak words left unsaid, a sadness that feels too familiar.
“I cannot.”
As if I had been slapped, I recoil out of his grasp and spit, the saliva dripping down his face.
“You are a beast, deserving of everything the cold void promises. I pray to the Goddess you never see the Plains of Elmir.”
I turn away, my face flaming.
The sound of retreating footsteps fills the tense air.
I can’t bring myself to look at him. A tug in my soul, ever so faint, begs me to turn around to face him though. It calls to me, sings to my soul to fall into his depths.
How foolish.
“You’ll be hung tomorrow in the soft heather of the town courtyard, that way the last thing to touch you will be a soft caress before you reach the other realm. Goddess be with you.”
I’m still looking away as the door to the chamber shuts with a deft thud. Only then does the wall holding back my despair break and the tears finally fall.