Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

O rmano’s heart thundered in his chest for most of the backbreaking ride back to Metilai.

They had commandeered the ferry to Gall. Horses awaited them at the harbor and Orry was bone tired and heartsick by the time they raced through the gates of the White Palace.

The mood was dark in the courtyard. Soldiers everywhere. He yelped as someone grabbed his arm, the soft flesh instantly yielding to the general’s iron grip. Orry lifted terrified eyes up to the tall man, whose face was like Death. He stumbled along as the general strode to the left of the courtyard, never pausing even as Orry struggled to keep up. By the time they’d reached the doorway leading to the bowels of the palace, Orry was gasping for air.

The dungeons were the worst in the empire for a reason. This was the last stop unless you were one of the lucky few sentenced to death.

From the dark, cold stone walls dripping with water and grime to the rats scurrying between legs and chairs, beneath filthy straw piled in the corners of the cells or inside old tin waste pails, this was a place not concerned with anyone’s well-being.

Ormano fumbled inside his robes until he found the small ball of fabric, lifting the lavender scented kerchief to his nose and stumbled through the archway of yet another corridor. He held out one thick hand and accidentally slapped at General Peleon’s back. He mumbled his apologies and smiled wanly back as Peleon’s dark face scowled at him through the gloom. The older man’s frown deepened, but he turned back, proceeding deeper into the disgusting catacombs.

“Well?”

Orry jumped at Peleon’s barked demand.

General Peleon let out a huff and motioned Orry ahead of him. Orry did not need further prodding.

“All he wants is a yes or no,” the general said. Orry’s steps were slow, and he looked everywhere, shrinking more into himself the deeper into the catacombs they went. The darker it became, too, with torches spaced out at longer intervals, the sounds of their steps echoing and empty, adding to Orry’s misery.

“Who, lord?”

“Who?” the general snapped. “Who do you think, you cockroach? The emperor!”

Orry winced and dug the kerchief harder against his face. He closed his eyes and gave a half shake of his head. General Peleon continued to frown.

“The accused?”

The general stopped a few feet behind him and Orry floundered along without light. He stopped and turned, taking a few tentative steps back toward the dim light of the general’s torch, as if waiting for something to pop out and snatch him.

General Peleon lifted the torch in front of his face and the flash of hatred Orry saw on the older man’s features made him cringe back as if he’d been hit in the face.

“She’s in here,” the general sneered.

Orry blinked, his eyes swiveling in the direction he’d indicated. Another black hole, hollow and deep behind thick iron bars. Orry looked back at the general. “She?”

“You can sit out here and question her,” Peleon continued as if Orry hadn’t spoken. He turned and motioned to someone behind him, and a young soldier came forward quickly with a chair. He dropped it at Orry’s feet, the echoing clang shearing across Orry’s already heightened nerves.

Before Orry could nod his thanks, the soldier scurried off. Orry grabbed the chair back with shaky fingers, adjusting it on the ground with great attention and careful consideration.

At last, he sat down—even that process taking exaggeratedly long as he fought to grasp hold of what was happening.

“General, if I may?—”

“Is she a god, yes or no? That is all the emperor requires.” General Peleon turned to leave, then paused. “Do not go inside, whatever the provocation. God or not, she is a trained killer and will snap your neck before she is even aware of who you are.”

Ormano’s hand flew to his throat, and he worked his mouth for several moments. General Peleon turned once more to leave.

“Wait!” Orry shrieked. The sound bounced off the stone and back at him. He winced. He pasted a smile on his face and said, “Lord, I beg you. I do not understand why I was summoned.”

The general frowned. “High Cleric Christos said you are the most learned when it comes to the gods. Are you not?”

Orry laughed, a nervous reflex. “Of course, yes, but?—”

“Then you know why you are here. We have a murderer, at the very least. A god at the worst.” He loomed over Orry, his eyes filled with such loathing, Orry cowered. “And before you render your decision, know that before she was apprehended, no less than five of the Imperial Guard swore to Captain Xoran she used some sort of power on them, as well as Prince Isher, when she tried to kill him. There hasn’t been a god for centuries and the emperor wants it verified because he plans a public execution. So. We await your judgement.”

The general turned sharply, shoved the torch into a sconce and left, his boots clipped and loud before fading away, leaving Orry alone.

Orry wiped a hand across his mouth and looked back into the darkness where General Peleon had been. The light from the torch danced around, but mostly, the gloom won. Orry glanced back at the cell where General Peleon had mentioned a prisoner—a woman—was being held. Leaning forward in his seat, Orry stretched out his left hand, but it barely touched the torch. He tried again, leaning until the chair was on two legs and finally grabbed hold. He held it in front of him, hoping he’d see something.

“Hello?” he called out weakly.

There was quiet shuffling in the darkness, jealously hiding whoever was in the cell.

He tried again. “Hello?”

Orry heard a sigh and then the sound of metal hitting the iron bars as a bruised and bloody hand wrapped around the iron.

“Ormano?”

Terena was startled awake. Her body still ached, but at least her head was not pounding as much as earlier. She turned her head slowly. Satisfied her nausea had gone, she moved her head some more, looking around to get her bearings.

It was dark. She must be in the dungeons. She’d only seen them once when she and Croak had gone exploring, quickly hustling out as the Royal Inquisitor rounded a corner and scolded them for being there. Terena was glad to have Croak with her; the Royal Inquisitor was a terrifying man in social settings but alone in the dungeons is something she didn’t want to imagine.

Now, she wouldn’t have to.

He’d been the first to question her after the guards had beaten her before dragging her down to this cell. He’d taken the fingernails from her right hand first. Terena recalled every second of that, but nothing after. She’d woken to see the Royal Inquisitor sitting in his chair, watching her with his soulless eyes, his face mild as if he was about to have dinner.

Terena closed her eyes and willed the nausea to settle. She didn’t think she’d ever forget what happened next.

Heavy irons banded her wrists. From the pain that arced down her right arm, she was sure it was broken .

As she maneuvered up, Terena pushed her bottom along the ground and up against something. She pulled her broken limb to her lap, cradling it with her left hand. Crying out, she lifted her hand to see blood crusted where the tip of her smallest finger should have been. The chains rattled as she shook.

Breathing slowly, she could hear more chains rattling somewhere off to her right and mutterings and whimpers closer, but could not tell where either came from. It did not matter. She could do nothing but sit and wait and hope her body recovered enough before her jailers came down to interrogate her some more.

She must have fallen asleep again. When she next woke, a dull light danced around the gloomy area beyond the bars. Having slumped over while she’d slept, Terena moved her shoulder on the dirty stone floor, sliding her hip up to pull her leg under her. She gasped as a sharp pain raced up her leg to her hip and she almost passed out. Terena lay back against the ground and gave in to tears again.

“…and question her.”

Terena’s eyes flew open. She tilted her head toward the bars of her cell, sure she’d heard something, someone. A sharp clatter followed, and she winced.

Voices again. One soft, timid… familiar? The other voice she knew, beyond doubt. His words were short and clipped in his high nasal pitch, so at odds with the harsh countenance of the man she’d had to suffer while in the emperor’s employment. His brother, General Peleon, was not someone you’d easily forget.

“We await your judgement,” General Peleon was saying. Terena heard his boots echo in the cave as he walked away.

She shifted again, slithering closer to the bars. She blinked—one eye so swollen she couldn’t open it—until the film over the other was gone and she could see torchlight wavering closer.

“Hello?” the timid voice said at last. Terena stared out, and the torch moved again. The faint outline of a cowl became visible, then a silver chain, then the pinched, round face of an old friend. She reached out a shaky hand and wrapped it around the iron bar in front of her .

“Ormano?” she whispered, hopeful and incredulous.

The torch arced to her right as her friend pitched forward, grasping the bars in both hands. She smiled to see his face, then started crying.

“Terena!”

Her eyes closed, and she sobbed, succumbing to the aches tearing through her body.

“Terena, please,” Ormano said, his voice low and urgent. “Please stop this now. You need to help me, Terena! You need to tell me what in hells is going on!”

Terena’s sobs turned to mewling sounds, and she hated herself for the weakness taking over. She’d never been so hopeless in her life and was sure the grief crashing over her now would finally break her.

“Terena! Focus! We haven’t much time,” he hissed, his voice pleading.

She opened her mouth on a gasp and opened her eye. Only the dark of the ceiling greeted her, so she turned her head to look at her friend.

“I…” she muttered something, then sniffled and coughed.

“Focus!”

“He’s dead, Orry,” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

“Gods, Terena,” Orry’s mouth opened as he stared at her in horror. His eyes watered. “Your face…”

She coughed again, the tang of copper in her mouth. “Lerek is dead. And I?—”

“I know, love, I know. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “They told me, but… how? Did you… oh, Terena. Did you kill him? Is that why you?—”

“No!” she snarled, her voice sharp and almost normal for the first time. It cost her, though. Her body screamed in protest. She cradled her sore head, wincing when she moved her broken arm.

“Terena?”

Something tugged at her sleeve. The wave of nausea passed, and she turned to Ormano.

“Terena, please, are you awake? ”

“Barely,” she whispered back. She heard his sigh of relief and felt again the slight tug on her filthy tunic.

“Tell me as much as you can,” he said, his voice louder and desperate. Terena fought to keep her eye open.

“He’s dead, Orry,” she said again, her voice breaking on a sob.

“What happened?” Ormano demanded.

Terena opened and closed her mouth several times. At last she said, “I don’t know. I… he was to meet me, and he was late, so I… I searched for him, Orry.”

“Where was he? Where did you find him?”

Terena choked back more tears. She sighed. “On the terrace. His rooms. Isher was there. I didn’t know he was back. It looked like they’d been drinking, but…”

“But what, Terena?” he asked after a long pause. His voice was softer now, soothing.

“He was just… lying there.” Her mouth trembled so badly she clenched her jaw tight to still it. When she was sure of herself once more, she continued. “I went closer and saw him on the ground and when I bent down I saw… there was so much blood, Orry. What that bastard did to his own brother!”

She spasmed with a coughing fit, her body crying out in protest, and she was helpless with it. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore.

Her coughing turned into sobs, and she was choking on the phlegm and tears. She didn’t care.

Ormano stretched out a hand and although she was too far to reach for it, his nearness calmed her. Orry said nothing for a long time.

“Terena,” he said at last, “did you kill Isher?”

She laughed. It was not a cheerful sound. She lifted her left hand slowly and wiped at the snot over her mouth. “I’m not sure. I hope so. They caught me before I could.”

“What did you do?”

Here she paused. She squinted her good eye against the darkness of the cell, trying to see beyond, into the past, into that moment when she had Isher in her hands.

Then she remembered.

“I never touched him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And yet I choked him. I remember the feel of his throat as it strained against me. His body quaked, fighting me.” She turned her head to her friend. “But I never touched him, Orry. I never touched him. How can this be?”

Ormano’s hand froze between the bars.

“Terena,” he began, then cleared his throat, “Terena, when the soldiers came for me, they didn’t tell me anything about why they were seeking me. We came straight from Laurica, and General Peleon brought me here.

“I asked, several times, but instead of answering me, he told me to find out if you are a god.” He scoffed. “I did not know it was you I was to question, Terena, and other than finding out if you are a god, Peleon said nothing more.”

He snapped his fingers and hissed at her when she turned her head away, “Who’s spoken with you? Gods, you look like shit. Was it the Royal Inquisitor?”

She whimpered and muttered something, but couldn’t form words. It took several tries and lots of finger snapping from Orry before she said, “Get me out of here.”

“Get..! Get you out of here?” He laughed, and it sounded more like a squeak. “Peleon thinks you killed one prince and were close to killing the other! You are not getting out of here, Ren. Best you can hope for is they believe me when I tell them you most assuredly are not a god!”

“Are you sure?” she whispered back.

This time, when he laughed, it sounded hollow. “You don’t have adamantine chains on, so they can’t seriously think you are.”

She scoffed.

“Now is not the time for your games, sweetheart,” Orry said. “The palace is looking to hang you and here you are jesting.”

“Orry,” she said, exasperated at yet another round of finger snapping when she closed her eye. “Remember when we went to Forasa, when they were inducting the new priest there?”

Orry stopped snapping and sat silently. She almost smiled.

“We raced up the mountain,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said, and this time she allowed herself a small lift of her lips as she recalled the laughter and then the sheer terror.

“Isher’s horse startled at something,” Orry said. “I don’t remember what. He would’ve fallen down the side?—”

“If I hadn’t grabbed his arm.”

“Indeed,” he said.

“How did I catch him?”

Silence. Then, “What do you mean?”

Terena sighed. “How did I catch him, Orry? He went over the edge. I was still on my horse when he fell.”

“Well, you—hmm. I don’t remember the details, Ren. We were children. I remember him going over and you on your stomach pulling him up. And then Croak and Lerek were there, too.”

“You know, Orry,” she whispered and turned her head back toward the ceiling. Tears slipped down her temples. “You’ve always known.”

He was silent for a time. Somewhere deeper in the catacombs, someone screamed and metal clanked. Terena heard Orry shift, his sandals scrapping the stone floor.

“You’re right. I wondered at first. Of course, I did. When I first met you and Croak, you and I were eight years old. A year later, you were… different. You were suddenly so interested in myths. In the gods. The Olympians. Then Croak—that idiot!—slipped once when we were older. Right after you’d become a tracker. I asked him why you didn’t want to be a Lady. After all, your father was Captain of the Imperial Guard. All you had to do was look pretty and nab a husband. Croak laughed and said you had no interest in that. He said being a tracker would help you find your birth parents.” Orry smiled as if recalling that moment. “We only talked about it one time, and he never came out and said it, but I knew. And he knew I knew, but I swore to him I would never say anything to anyone about it. And I never have. No one knows Lorence wasn’t your real father. ”

He reached over and gripped one of her fingers. “Why do you think I became a cleric? It was the best way I knew to help in your search.”

Terena dropped her forehead against the bars and cried. He leaned forward and kissed her hair.

“But this is not the place for such revelations, Terena,” he said at last, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “I will, of course, tell the general and the emperor himself you are not a god, only a particularly strong female whose years of training have certainly rendered her stronger than the prince. Peleon said five guards have sworn you used… powers on them, but I will stand by my word as I am the expert and they are brutes.”

“And what of Isher? He’ll have told him his version as well. You would contradict him?”

Orry snorted. “Again, who is the expert? Besides, he could’ve been drunk, or smoking, or both. In fact, I’ll ask to go see the terrace. Hopefully no one’s disturbed anything there, yet.”

Terena shifted, trying to sit up straight. As the pain arced up her broken arm and bruised leg, Terena cried out, but managed to prop herself against the bars to face her friend. “Yes, please. Go up there as soon as you leave here. If you’re stopped, tell them you need to inspect where I was to determine if, in fact, I had used any powers.”

“Why the hells would I say that? It will only?—”

“I need your eyes!” she hissed and then winced as white hot pain wracked her aching body. When she could speak again, she said, “I need you to tell me every detail of what the terrace looks like. Smell the glasses and the wine if there’s any left. Look for signs of a struggle near where Lerek was found. And see if you can find Sonah Yahn. She would’ve been there as well, to taste his wine. I don’t know how long she might’ve stayed, but she should know something. I need to piece together what happened and I need your help to do that. Will you do that for me?”

Orry was silent.

“Orry? Can you do that?”

“Aye,” he whispered. “Aye, of course, Ren. Of course I will. ”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

She heard him shuffle and knew he was leaving. He did not speak as he took a few steps further away, but then stopped. “And if it’s as they say? That you?—”

“I did not kill him, Orry,” Terena said.

She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “I loved him. I did not kill him. But if Isher did, I will kill him .”

Sonah shivered in her shift, the only clothing they’d allowed her after they’d stripped her of her dress, stockings and shoes. They even took the ribbon from her hair. Wiping her nose on her wrist, she sniffed again, no longer caring.

She stared down at the top of the table. Sonah had cried off and on for hours, having seen or heard no one since they dumped her in this room.

Sonah looked up, chancing a look around the small room. Blinking away the tears, she realized she was in the maids’s dining room.

She huffed out a sigh, and it hitched as she swallowed, so glad she was back in the palace proper and not….

The door opened, and she stiffened, dropping her gaze to her lap. She might not be in the dungeons anymore, but she sure as hells was not being cared for as befitting her station. She had a good idea she’d done something terrible, though she did not know what could be so bad, this was the consequence.

“I am sorry they brought you to the dungeons,” a silky, high-pitched voice called out, and Sonah shook. Hearing that voice directed at her made Sonah quail.

The general sat across from her, but she still wouldn’t look up at him. “Captain Cortis was overzealous.”

Silence.

Pretend he isn’t there. Pretend this is a dream.

“You went to the terrace? With the princes?”

Sonah didn’t respond .

Something clattered on the table, and Sonah jumped. She looked across the table and saw the general had dropped his dagger on it. She lifted wide eyes to him. Cold, blank eyes stared back.

“Were you with the princes, yes or no?”

“No.”

“No?” The general scowled. “Lady Maranou said you were called to Prince Lerek’s rooms that evening before dinner.”

“Aye,” Sonah said, blinking in confusion.

“Then why did you lie when I asked if you were with them?”

Shaking her head, Sonah opened her mouth. The general leaned forward, startling her.

“Only Isher—Prince Isher was there.”

He nodded. “Good.” He leaned in, dark eyes narrowed. “And did you drink the wine? You tasted it before Prince Isher, aye?”

Sonah nodded. “Aye.”

“And yet,” Peleon bit out, “Prince Isher says he was drugged. And Prince Lerek must have been, too. Now, Prince Lerek is dead, along with his guard. Their throats were slashed.”

Sonah’s head snapped up, mouth hanging open. She tried several times to say something, but her throat wouldn’t work, her lips opening and closing uselessly as tears gathered behind her eyes.

“Where were you?”

“Prince Lerek is dead?”

“Where were you?”

“What?”

“Where were you? Where did you go after the terrace?”

“I—” Sonah stopped, eyes searching the tabletop for an answer.

General Peleon slammed his hand on the table and Sonah jumped.

“Who are you working with?”

“Please…”

“Who did you let into the prince’s rooms?”

“I didn’t!”

“So, you killed the prince? His guard?” the general sneered.

“No! Of course not! I?— ”

“You are going to be executed,” General Peleon said, as if announcing he was going fishing in the morning.

Sonah’s eyes swam with tears, dread slowly washing over her chest. “But I didn’t… I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything! Please. Please, where’s Lady Maranou?—”

“You will die. You and that traitorous bitch.”

Sonah couldn’t breathe. Her chest hurt and she tried sucking in air, but her throat closed up. She hurt all over, was cold and terrified, and now she couldn’t breathe and would drop dead right there.

General Peleon stood, sheathed his dagger and walked to the door. He lifted the latch and swung the door open wide before turning back to her. “In the morning, I’ll give you one last opportunity to confess who conspired with you. Who you’re protecting. If you do, I’ll make sure the emperor grants you a quick death. If you don’t, you’ll be drawn and quartered, along with Terena Luca.”