11. Eight

Eight

Political Power

A sher had his head resting against the wall, watching the torchlight in the hallway flicker as his mind drifted in timeless space. Torchlight brightened the small window of his cell door and he wondered if Lily had returned as she'd promised.

Two human guards entered his cell, and every muscle in Asher's body tightened.

One approached him. "Wrists out," he ordered.

Asher hesitated before he held his chained wrists out in front of him.

He gritted his teeth as the guard pulled him to his feet and the other removed a lock that kept the chain pinned against the wall. In the darkness, Asher hadn't been able to see that the chain actually originated from a wheel on the opposite side of the room, up across the ceiling, and down the corner in which he'd been sitting for the past couple of days.

Once the locks were removed from the corner, his chain dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

The second soldier walked to the wheel and began turning it, winding up the chain with a grinding noise. As it tightened, the chain pulled his wrists upward toward the ceiling. Instinctively, he tried to resist, but he couldn't stop it. He groaned as pain began to burn in his shoulder as his arms lifted over his head. Only then did the soldier stop. Pain seared up his arm, down his side, and across his back.

"Please," he panted. "This hurts."

The guards ignored him and one of them mumbled a curse under his breath, then grumbled, "Not our job keeping stupid prisoners clean. Roy, get the buckets."

Asher tried to steady his breathing and not beg, but he had never been in so much pain.

"The king commanded us to give you a bath. So we're giving you one." Roy threw the first bucket of water in Asher's face, making him sputter.

The second guard dumped another bucket of water over Asher's head. The mud lazily drifted down his body as the two men continued to pour water across his body. One of them used a bar of soap and scrub brush to scrub Asher's face, back, arms, and chest, not being remotely gentle. When the guard scrubbed his shoulder, he screamed and leaned away.

"Stop!" he shouted.

The soldier sniffed and stepped back while the other dumped another bucket on him.

"Hey, look. He actually looks human now."

"Looks are deceiving. He's nothing but an animal. Let's get back to work. He can stay here until the king wants him."

"Wait." Asher grimaced and swallowed what little pride he had. "Please don't leave me like this. It's excruciating."

The soldier laughed. "That's not my problem, mutt."

They turned and left.

"Wait! Please!" Asher pleaded.

But the soldiers locked the door and left him.

He shook his sopping hair from his eyes and tried to see if there was any way to get himself a little slack on the chain to relieve his pain. He even tried holding his weight on his toes for relief, but couldn't hold it long.

He'd never imagined he would be in a position such as this. The humans had threatened to get answers no matter the cost. He didn't want to think about what that cost might be. And when he heard voices echoing down the hallway, his stomach sank and he tried to swallow, though his throat was dry.

The door opened, torchlight blinding him as soldiers walked in, placing the torches on two sconces on opposite sides of the room. They weren't the same men who had bathed him.

Asher looked at the door when he heard a dark chuckle.

Before him stood the king in royal clothing with a neatly kept beard and cruel eyes. King Barith smiled. "Enjoying your stay?"

"What do you want from me?" Asher spat.

Asher recognized Wester, the wizard he had seen in the throne room when he'd first been brought in. Lily's master. He wore long blue robes similar to Lily's, only his shimmered gently in the torchlight.

The king walked up to Asher. "You already know why I am here. You already know what it is I want. So be a good boy, yes? How do we get to the Tree of Rose?"

Asher's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "I don't know. How many times must I repeat myself before you get it through your thick skull?"

King Barith's eyes darkened. He snapped his fingers.

One of the soldiers stepped forward and punched Asher in the ribs. Asher tried to double over as the air exploded from his lungs, but the chains prevented him from doing so and forced him to jerk on his shoulder, which did nothing to help with his pain.

"One. Last. Chance. You do know we have your father, yes? Tell me where it is and I will free him."

Asher lifted his head, still catching his breath. "My father...is alive?"

"Yes. And I'll even let you see him if you just tell me." The king's impatience radiated in his eyes.

"I-I don't know," Asher said, noticing the second soldier wrapping a whip around his hand. "No one does," Asher blurted. "I swear on my life."

"Hm. I believe you do know, prince." King Barith stepped back. "I had hoped we wouldn't have to resort to such measures. It makes quite a mess. Wester, would you like to retrieve our guest?"

Wester smirked and stepped out of the room.

Asher's eyes darted to the king's face. "I swear I don't know. I didn't see it happen. I was only a child."

The king's eyes narrowed at Asher. "You have tried my patience, and now we will resort to some different methods. You were given the option. Now it's your fault it has come to this."

The soldier with the whip walked around Asher and dropped the tail of the whip over his shoulder.

"I don't know!" Asher repeated, desperately trying to lean away.

But the soldier struck him across the back five times, each time feeling harder than the last.

Asher hung by his wrists, his back now joining his shoulder in pain as he panted and tried to keep his senses about him.

Wester walked in, dragging Asher's father alongside him.

Asher's heart jumped at seeing his father, still alive if not a little rough.

His father didn't smile. His attention immediately went to the king. "Barith. I know we have had our differences over the years, but do not do this. You're torturing my son ."

"And you almost let my son die!" the king shouted back. He looked at the man with the whip. "Again!"

"No!" Asher cried out before three strokes landed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and weakness shot down his legs. Nausea tingled the back of his throat.

"Barith, please! If I knew the location of Rose and Merete, I would tell you. I believe a spell was used to wipe the location from our memories, because no one in our land can find it. Or perhaps magic protects the location and won't let anyone who sees it remember. I speak the truth. Please. Please stop hurting my son."

"Asher," the king said, ignoring his father. "Tell me."

" I. Don't. Know. " Asher spoke each word slowly and through gritted teeth, hoping to convince them this time.

"I swear he doesn't," his father added.

The king shook his head. "I don't believe either of you!"

Asher looked over his shoulder at the man with the whip before it fell again.