Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MAEVYTH

K nees pulled into my chest, I watched through the small window of my cell, as the moon rose and darkness swallowed daylight like a fading flame. Another day my sister might’ve been suffering alone, cold and terrified.

I hated that I was grateful to be safe and sheltered, even if the lingering chill of the dungeons still nipped at my bones. But most of all, I hated that even if I wanted to help her, I wouldn’t have known where to begin.

My stomach gurgled with new hunger, and I rested my head against my knees, breathing through my nose to stifle the gnawing ache of starvation. Much as my heart wanted to mourn my sister’s circumstances, my body reminded me there was never time to focus solely on someone else’s pain.

Heavy boots thudded against the concrete, unlike Rykaia’s delicate steps of earlier, alerting me of someone’s approach. On instinct, I backed myself to the wall. The echoing fear from the guards attacking me still rattled my nerves. I held my breath as a shadowy form strode into the light of the flickering sconces and revealed himself to be Zevander.

Why I still held my breath at the sight of him was a mystery.

Although he wore the same mask as he had the last time I’d seen him, the hood of his cloak had been lowered away from his face, showing hair as black as mine curled at the nape of his neck. Finger-raked back from his face, with a few strands reaching his brow, it gave him a rugged, disheveled appearance.

He carried two wooden bowls and strode past my cell with both of them. The lingering scent of meat prickled my tongue. Seconds later, he appeared before my cell, still holding one of the bowls, but instead of shoving it under the bars, as Rykaia had earlier, he opened the door to my cell.

My whole body remained on guard as I watched him step inside, his massive size devouring the small space. I imagined my height, though not entirely petite, would’ve brought me to about his mid-chest.

Without a word, he handed me the bowl, which I scrambled toward with a level of gratitude I’d never felt at the sight of food before. The delicious scent of the chicken pottage filled my nose, and I sat back on the edge of the bed with the bowl, surprised when my captor didn’t leave right away. Instead, he grabbed the wooden chair propped at the corner of my cell, which looked exceptionally small, more like a stool—even more so when he sat down on it.

Not daring to look at him, I sprinkled the pottage with a bit of purslane that was draped over the bowl’s edge, sparing one of the succulent leaves to nibble. A delicious, tart lemon flavor puckered my tongue, and I spooned a bite of the warm soup. And another. Another warmed my belly, the meat not quite filling the vacuous hole of my appetite. While the breakfast had certainly taken off the edge of starvation, it hadn’t completely sated the hunger that continued to gnaw at me.

Guilt knotted the pangs in my stomach. Had my sister eaten a single bite in the time I’d been offered two meals?

“You asked to speak to me,” he said, breaking my thoughts.

I’d forgotten how deep that voice was, or how easily it sent a shiver over my skin. I swallowed back another bite of food and cleared my throat. “I wondered … how long you intend to keep me here. And why you’re keeping me here.”

“Has Dolion not offered any insights?”

“Um … well, I thought I’d introduce things slowly on that front.”

Both of us turned to find Dolion peeking in on the cell.

“Perhaps you might sup somewhere else,” Zevander said in an annoyed tone. “I need to speak with you, as well.”

“Of course, of course.” Bowl in hand, Dolion scrambled past the cell and disappeared down the same corridor from which Zevander had arrived.

“He’s not your prisoner, yet you keep him down here. Why?”

“He enjoys the solitude.”

“And, so, what are these insights you mentioned?” Picking at my food, I stole brief glances of my captor while he sat across from me, those few fleeting glimpses highlighting the differences in appearance between him and the sister that I’d met earlier. The way his black hair and light bronze skin bore a stark contrast to her silvery hair and pale complexion. An observation that left me wondering if they were related by blood.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Why is every question I ask met with another question?” The ire in my voice was a mere spark of the anger stirring in my gut. Not so much that I was confined to a cell, but that even if granted my freedom, I’d have no idea how to navigate back to my sister, or what vicious things I might encounter along the way. When he didn’t answer, I lowered my gaze and stirred the pottage with my spoon. “I find it difficult to eat when my sister might be starving.”

“And if she’s not, you’re the fool who starves for nothing.” The flat tone of his voice ground at my nerves.

“It’s called empathy. Something you lack entirely.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his muscled thighs. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten the three men who tried to violate you. I’m the fucking empath who killed those men. For you .”

I snorted at that and shook my head. “How was it you who killed them, when I specifically recall a scorpion the size of a small village doing the job?”

Zevander flipped his hand over, palm up, and a cloud of black smoke seeped up from his skin, morphing into the shape of a scorpion that sat in his palm as a living creature.

A sharp breath escaped me, and as I took in the oddity, every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “What is this?”

“This? It’s magic.” He flipped his hand over, the scorpion following the movement, scampering over his knuckles, and I watched in horror as it burrowed itself beneath the skin on the back of his palm, leaving behind a small imprint of itself on the surface that mingled with the dark flames. The ink looked as if it’d been burned into his flesh. “And this is my curse.”

“You …. You killed them?” I shook my head harder, still trying to puzzle how any of it was possible. It wasn’t possible. “I didn’t ask you to kill anyone.”

His gaze lowered, presumably to the choker at my throat. “No. You pray to a god that doesn’t listen, and you’re shocked when he doesn’t come to save you.”

“And what are you? The good and benevolent passerby who stalks the night for rapists and murderers? What were you doing there?”

“Good and benevolent.” He sneered. “I have little care for others in general, but less so for mortals.”

I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth. “Why is that?”

“You’re pests,” he said, his voice thick with repulsion. “Weak little rodents that infest and spread disease.”

“Then, why did you save me, if I’m so loathsome? Why bring me back to your home?”

The mask he wore made it impossible to tell if I’d angered him more. It seemed his eyes perpetually carried an edge of malice. “You serve a purpose. That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

“What purpose?”I’d heard of girls outside of Foxglove getting swept up to serve abhorrent purposes. Shackled to beds and forced to lie with countless men for coin. "What is it you want from me?"

“What I’m certain you won’t give freely.”

For the second time since I’d arrived in this place, I found myself wondering if I’d be brutishly violated by night’s end. My lip curled at the possibility of it, but before I could tell him that I’d sooner die than entertain such a thing, he spoke.

“You’re going to begin training in the morning.”

Senses slapped into a stupor, I double blinked. “I’m sorry, what? Did you say training ?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of training?”

“We’ll begin with the basics. Focus. Calling upon simple glyphs.”

“Glyphs? As in symbols?” With the bowl resting in my lap, I rubbed my fingertips over the strange scar I’d shown Dolion earlier.

“Yes. It’s how magic works.”

Except I hadn’t come any closer to accepting the idea that I possessed magic since my conversation with Dolion earlier that morning.

“I am … thoroughly confused. You killed three men who tried to … harm me. Brought me all the way here, to your castle, imprisoned me, all so you could turn around and train me to learn glyphs?”

“You can blame Dolion for the illogics.”

“Why do I need to learn the glyphs? Will that help against the supposed mages who are after me?”

“Seems you’ve chatted with Dolion, after all.”

“And none of this makes any sense.” I still wasn’t convinced that I hadn’t died back in those woods, and that this wasn’t some strange version of purgatory. “Why would you go through the trouble of training your prisoner?”

“Because you’re weak–”

“And repulsive, yes, we’ve established this,” I snipped back, impatiently. “I believe you likened me to a rat.”

“Rodent.”

“Semantics.” Eyes narrowed, I stared back at him, tapping my spoon against the bowl, my appetite nowhere near as ravenous as before. “What are you not telling me?”

He sat upright in his chair again. “I’ll leave the details to Dolion. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest. And eat. Training begins at dawn, and I can assure you, you will need your strength. It can be quite physical.”

“Physical? I’m to train in this?” I stared down at myself and the grimy, torn dress I’d worn for two days, which still carried the dried guts of the bug I’d squashed. “A tattered dress?”

“I’ll leave your attire to Rykaia.” He pushed to his feet, clearly finished with the conversation.

But I wasn’t.

“Well, it seems you’ve delegated just about everything.”

“I like efficiency.”

“And I like freedom. Take me back to those woods, and I promise you will never hear from me again. No need for any delegation. No headache for you.”

He let out a sound of disapproval. “You are relentless.”

“Were it your sister, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Do not attempt to appeal to my good nature. We’ve established that I don’t have one.”

The creeping sensation of hopelessness crawled over me again. “Then, I will beg. If that’s what it takes. I will beg that you take me back.”

“Beg all you like.” He let out a sardonic chuckle. “I’d quite like to see you on your knees.”

With absolutely no forethought, I shot up from the bed and threw the pottage at him. The bowl hit his chest on a thump, and the pottage oozed down his leathers.

For the briefest moment, a zap of panic shot through me. Had I done the same to anyone back home, I’d have been slapped across the face—or worse. Vonkovyan soldiers would’ve added to the collection of scars on my back and legs.

“Your sister was right. You are a tyrant beast!”

He snarled as he wiped chunks of grain from his face. “And you are vexatious, yet by some mystery of the gods, you still have your tongue.”

A whim of madness surged through me, and I darted for the open cell door. A blast of air shot from my mouth, as something banded around my stomach. With little effort, I was hoisted up into the air. My spine sank against the billowy mattress on an explosion of feathers that drifted around me.

Massive arms plowed into the soft mattress at either side of my head, as he caged me beneath him, and to my horror, he gathered my flailing limbs, pinning my wrists above my head. His intimidating form swallowed me as he loomed like a black squall, his infernal eyes glowing with annoyance. “Perhaps I should free you. See how you fare on your own, with all the creatures and beasts that would sniff you out and hunt you all the way to those woods.”

“Yes! Please!” I shouted through tightly clenched teeth. “I can’t think of anything worse than being your captive!”

“Clearly, you’ve not considered my point of view. You think I want you here? You think I asked to be your fucking keeper?” Even the bed trembled with the flexing of his muscles. Or maybe that was me and the fury he’d stirred inside of me. “I’d sooner toss you to the fyredrakes!”

“Then, do it!” Wriggling to free myself, I jerked my knee and struck him hard in the groin.

Perhaps too hard.

His brawny body recoiled, muscles contracted. A furious growl rumbled out of him, and a tight grip at my throat sent an explosion of stars across my vision. “Don’t fuck with me, mortal. There are far too many painful ways to die.” His patience unraveled in loose stitches with the angry veins that protruded from his neck, his black pupils swallowing the fiery gold and orange, and the ease of his grasp confirmed how effortlessly he could snap my windpipe.

I glanced to his cheek above the mask, where the grain had dried against his skin. “Perhaps you might wipe my dinner off your face before making serious threats against me.” Teeth grinding, I forced myself not to spit at him right then.

On another growl he released me, and when he spun around, I caught the subtle swipe at his cheek as he strode toward the cell door. “Get your rest. Training begins at dawn.”

With that, he exited my cell, locking the door as before.