Chapter Twenty-Three

One might think Sébastien was insane if they saw him muttering to himself in the brig. Nothing he said brought Satan out. The lirek collar kept his magic void, and he tipped his head back on the bars after a while. With no great firepower, he wouldn't be breaking out anytime soon.

The Regent likely had no idea about the salt. Satan wouldn't have mentioned that. He wouldn't even talk to Sébastien now. Of course, Uncle was going to pretend like he knew nothing. Bastard. Things weren't going his way with Satan, so he'd now ditch both.

Sébastien had figured it out at breakfast with Remus and Lord Rochefort. Besides Satan reminding him almost daily that his days were numbered, he didn't say anything else. In fact, Sébastien was sure that he wasn't conscious in the typical way of a fairy who might sit or stand in a spot and be completely aware of what's around them.

Satan was aware of Sébastien in a way, his anger to feed from, and something that wasn't safe. Salt wasn't good for him.

That was why when Sébastien had touched the salt cellar that morning on the balcony, he'd taken a little to put in his palm, wondering if anything would happen. Satan hadn't growled again, but he was sure the salt had originally caused it.

When he had woken up from a bad dream with no memory of it, Remus had said he'd yelled about needing salt. Sébastien had brushed it off as an odd dream. Had Angelo used it before somehow? Those few dreams that he'd always dismissed as nonsense might have been from Satan. His memories bleeding over could have caused it.

Sébastien wished he'd tried harder to remember them and what was said.

With the saltwater around them, it was surely too much. The brig had an unpleasant, lingering odor. Even there, he could smell salt from the ocean.

After Remus and Lord Rochefort had left that morning, Sébastien had held some of the salt and threw a little fire into the air. It did nothing against his magic, and he hadn't heard anything again.

If Satan couldn't do anything now, what about later? If his host was hanged, would his death be enough to free the beast and send it away?

He bumped his head against the bars. It was frustrating to not have answers, and the only other ones who might know had died centuries ago. Here he was in the future, doomed to bumble around and suffer consequences he shouldn't have to deal with. It was bad enough that he had his damn Uncle to cope with.

With nothing else to do in the dark brig, he curled his sore body up on the floor and tried to not think for once. It took hours to get to sleep.

He assumed it was morning when he was rudely awoken by cold water splashing on him.

"Bath time." The rough sailor on the other side of the bars leered at him. "That's all you're getting this morning, Your Highness. Sorry the accommodations are lacking."

Chuckling, he headed up the stairs. A rectangle of light flared as he opened the door. "It still stinks in there."

Whoever he'd spoken to laughed. The door slammed, and the single lantern on a hook in the ceiling swung slightly. Sébastien stood and inched closer to the hole in the corner so he could drip and seeth. Water and waste collected somewhere below to be cleaned out by whatever unlucky soul received that job. The hole was too small to crawl through.

His accommodations weren't comfortable. The brig had a few narrow cells with sturdy bars. He'd already been all over his small space to test every single bar for a weakness. Unfortunately, they were solid, so he wouldn't be getting out that way. They hadn't fed him or bothered with water yet, and his mouth was dry. They'd have to give him sustenance at some point so he could be dangled from a noose later. Hanging a corpse is useless.

Uncle might give him the long rope to snap his neck since that was typical in Soleil. Unless he decided to have Sébastien hanged in the prison under the guise of being allowed a private execution to avoid public shame. If so, he'd likely use a short rope so Sébastien's last bit of life would be slowly choked out.

His heart pounded at the idea of dying from slow, painful suffocation. His heart didn't calm when the door opened again. A sailor who barely looked at him came down with a few waterskins and a bowl.

A tiny gap near the floor by the cell door allowed the waterskins and bowl to be slid through. "Make the water last." The sailor stomped back upstairs.

The rations could be poisoned. He was still sure the Regent wanted to wait before killing him, so he crouched by the tiny gap. It looked like various leftovers from breakfast had been scraped into a bowl for him. Disgusting.

Food was food. If there was a way out, he'd need the strength, not that he dared to hope. Plan? Yes. If he could. Would he allow genuine hope to blossom? No. Plan, assume the worst, be a realist, and cope with the shit as it came. He ate the congealed, cold bits in the bowl and sipped some water.

With nothing else to do but wait, he paced. The floor wasn't forgiving, and if he did nothing but sit, he wasn't sure if he'd sink into his mind. Since Satan must not have any power on the water, Sébastien was pretty much screwed. If the Regent decided his little group on the ship needed entertainment and a free hole…

He paced in the tiny space. If he sat for too long, he'd think of every damn possibility.

The idea of Remus coming to save him sparked in his mind, and he quickly squashed it. No, no, no. Allowing such hope for even a single moment was dangerous, and he locked his mind onto the logic of why that wasn't happening.

Even if Remus somehow had the fastest ship in the realm and gave chase, one of those above would kill Sébastien to make sure he wasn't rescued. If he approached Soleil with his army, someone would slit Sébastien's throat before Remus stepped foot on land.

Corentin would never leave it to chance, and if he knew he might go down, he'd take Sébastien with him.

Hope was foolish. He'd learned that with a hand locked around his throat to keep him silent. The fact that he'd ever dared to vaguely imagine a future with Remus had been stupid too. Reality was all he had, and it sucked even if he had a moment of reprieve here and there.

Leaning his head against the bars and willing the coldness to keep him anchored, he closed his eyes and thought back to Mother telling him he needed to improve and not grow lazy with schoolwork. The next time they went somewhere, Sébastien could go if his work was in order. Enzo hugged him when they left. Sébastien had later sulked over his boring equations and thought Remere was stupid for not wanting to see a ship start its maiden voyage.

Maybe Enzo would have believed Sébastien. He'd never know now, and he should have done better at his lessons, gone on the trip, and died with them that day. No Mother would want that for any of her children, but she hadn't known what would happen afterward. Dying with them at the docks would have been a mercy compared to this slow, painful trudge that he'd been on for years.

Remus wouldn't have to face losing him now if Sébastien had died back then. This wasn't fair on him either.

The hours slowly passed as he paced and sat for short times to rest. It had to be late afternoon when four men entered the brig.

"I bet he'll cry," said one.

Sébastien's heart thudded as they paused outside the door, and one pretended to wipe his eye. "Are you gonna be a crybaby?"

The Knight was a new one, and he grinned. "Did you have something to do with our farm catching fire? Everyone blames Sam, but I don't know. The whole thing's a bit odd."

"I don't know who Sam is," Sébastien said in a bland tone.

"Well, your lover boy back in Rowland is responsible for killing Matthew. If we get our hands on him, he'll be lucky if we don't make him eat his balls."

The Knight would be lucky to not have his own shoved up his rear.

He reached for the keys at his belt. Sébastien refused to back against the wall as it clattered in the lock. He'd fight. He'd fight. He'd fight. His pulse pounded in his ears. The Knight entered, and the other three couldn't tear their eyes off of him.

The panic was too strong. The bars were cold when he was shoved against them so one of the men could shackle his wrists together behind his back. They weren't gentle as they hauled him up onto the deck where the others were waiting. The Regent had been given a chair near the mainmast.

Sébastien remembered some of the city guards and a few of the Regent's favorites at the Palace.

The words had reached him, and he was sure the Regent had something to do with it. Some wanted to pass him around and take turns with his ass like a whore. He'd never be frigid after they were through with him. A couple dozen real men would turn him into a slut for cock and melt the ice in his veins.

That hadn't been the worst they'd said.

The four holding Sébastien shoved him down onto the deck. A sack went over his head and was tightened around his neck. Maybe they were going to kill him now after all and let him choke to death at the end of a rope from the mast. Some men pissed and shit themselves when hanged. The Regent would be pleased if he shamed himself one final time.

A rope was tied around his ankles. When a couple picked him up by his arms and started dragging him, he almost lost awareness of everything as terror smothered him like a blanket.

The weightlessness as he fell was gone in a splash. Cold water instantly soaked through his clothes and the sack. He opened his eyes and couldn't see shit. He tried to kick, but the rope was too tight. The shackles wouldn't budge, and he twisted.

Which way was up? He was sure he was still sinking. He didn't want to die by drowning and panicking from lack of air in his last moments either. All they'd have to do was cut the rope, and his body would be lost. His chest hurt and was ready to burst.

Saltwater burned in his lungs.

Vaguely, he was aware of being hauled up, and he vomited water in the sack as his pulse soared. Once he'd been pulled onto the deck, someone cut the ropes on his ankles, yanked off the sack, and dropped him. He threw up again, and saltwater spilled from his mouth along with pieces of partially digested slop. There wasn't much left from breakfast.

"That's disgusting," said the Regent.

Ignoring the burning in his throat, Sébastien forced himself to sit up. To not be so weak in front of Uncle even though he hadn't been so weak and disadvantaged since he'd been a young boy who thought Uncle still loved him even though the love hurt.

Nobody looked sorry for him as they stood around the deck. He hadn't expected them to. One of the Knights scratched his balls through his trousers like he saw Princes nearly drowned every single day.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" asked Corentin.

His soaked hair hung in stringy clumps over his face as he peered at the Regent. "Like what?"

"You should give him another dunk," said one. "He's got cheek still-"

Corentin held his hand up to the man. Mal stood several feet away as she twirled her dagger.

"Considering you've been consorting with Remus against Soleil, I'd like an apology. Then you can tell me about the werewolves who killed Queen Margot and Prince Enzo. Was it just them, or did the others know of this? I'll take the apology first."

Sébastien burst out laughing. He was trying to put on a little show for his lackeys who didn't know the truth. Of course, they wouldn't know.

"Do you think it's funny to sleep with the enemy and sell our country so you could have his cock in you?"

"Do you want me to say sorry, kneel for you so you can place your hand on my head, and pretend to be contrite for nothing so you can forgive me? I forgot. You ran out. I'm not playing your little game, and I'm not apologizing." Sébastien spit toward him. It fell short, but the point was obvious. "I say, ‘no.'"

Uncle's face darkened at the direct no, a word he ripped out of Sébastien years ago. Or so he thought.

Sébastien lifted his chin. "Go. Fuck. Yourself. Preferably with a splintery wood pole."

"Take him away. I'm not listening to his attitude."

***

Sébastien didn't have any air left when the final slug to his gut came. The Knight let go of his throat, and the brig tilted as Sébastien tried to cling to the bars at his back.

"You're a prideful little shit, aren't you?" snarled the Knight. "I bet you weren't so prideful when you were squealing like a whore under Remus."

They'd try to take every good memory he had and taint it if they could too. The Knight kicked his legs, and Sébastien didn't have the energy to stay upright anymore. He crumpled to the floor as his nose streamed blood.

"You better keep your mouth shut in the future." The Knight's boot slammed into Sébastien's side, and he had to clench his teeth to keep quiet.

A few pairs of hazy boots left his cell, and the door clanged shut, leaving him alone. It took a few ragged breaths before he could finally move, although it was only to curl up.

He'd finally said no to Corentin again. Of course, there had been a price to pay. There always was. Still worth it.

***

Food and water didn't exactly come at regular intervals, and his sleep came in shitty shifts punctuated by cold salt water baths from a bucket. The Regent didn't need to draw blood to keep him miserable.

He was pretty close when he guessed they were by Belle ?me. The Regent had only given him one more dunking before having him tossed back in his cell again.

Sébastien had almost considered shouting that the Regent was a child abuser. Then again, nobody would believe him, or they wouldn't care. They'd thrown their lot in with the Regent for coin and whatever else. Sébastien was merely an order to be carried out, not a real person with feelings.

It was night when they docked, and that made it easier to get their prisoner chained up in a boxcart to haul to the Palace without anyone seeing. Corentin could later say his traitor nephew had been captured and lay on the lies.

In the basement, they had a plain stone room with a couple of cells. It was mostly in case there was an issue with a courtier who committed a crime and needed to be restrained and locked up right away. Sébastien was dumped in one, unchained, and left alone.

Well, except for the guard who sat at a table by the door to watch him. Sébastien recognized him as one of the nastier men. He'd probably love to gangrape the Prince with a bunch of buddies.

"You're a traitor now?" Sébastien asked once the few who'd brought him down left.

"I serve the Regent like before. The only traitor around here is you." The guard opened a case and pulled out a cig. "We're all going to watch you swing, so save your bullshit. I suggest you be real nice while you're in there since Kurtis is now the Commander. He'll make you shut up if you don't behave."

"Congratulations to him."

Kurtis was definitely one who thought he could turn Sébastien into a slut and melt the ice in his veins with the help of a few friends. He'd worked in the city guard and transferred to the Palace a couple of years ago. He was a lord's distant cousin and full of himself. Kurtis wasn't stupid, but he also wasn't the brightest penny in the coin purse. His skill with a sword couldn't be denied, and he had a nasty streak. It figured the Regent would pick him.

At that point, Sébastien would be lucky to only die in the next few days.

While the guard smoked his cig and flicked ashes on the floor, Sébastien lay on the cot in the corner since he had nothing else to do. His skin was dry from so much salt water. His hair, usually smooth and soft, was a tangled mess and stiff. Even his clothes were stiff.

A simple wash-up would be nice. Then again, a lot of basic comforts would be nice to have one last time. Just a few more minutes of feeling sort of normal and something to distract himself would be nice. He imagined that Remus was coming, not that he'd get there in time. Sébastien wasn't going to be a fool and hope.

This wasn't fair to Remus. At least he'd have an army on his side, and he could defeat Soleil. The Regent wouldn't have much longer to live if Remus had his way, and that comforted Sébastien. The only way Corentin would survive was by fleeing and kissing his soft life goodbye.

Remus would live, and he'd gain a bigger Kingdom. One day in the future, he'd find a man who was bright and open with no darkness in his past, and Remus would be happy with him. Hopefully, he wouldn't forget Sébastien entirely. Someone would think of him fondly once in a while while he was at rest in the tomb with his family.

He turned over to face the wall as his throat tightened.