10. Chapter 9

The guards force me into a small, poorly lit room. They shove me forward so hard that I fall onto the hard floor. I try to catch myself, but not before my face hits the ground. My nose burns with pain, and when I reach up to touch it, my fingers come away red. How many times are they going to do that?

In front of me is a round table with two chairs facing each other on each side. I have never been interrogated before, but if I had to guess what the rooms look like that would hold such an activity, it would be this. I crawl to my feet and sit opposite the door, just as they want me to do. I suppose I have no choice but to play along.

Dirt and Gods know what else covers the scratches on my palms, I wipe my hands down my pant legs to get rid of the debris. The door clicks from the other side before slowly opening.

Blonde hair and green eyes, his uniform so put together, the seams of his guard"s jacket lined up perfectly. His pins spaced accordingly and straight as an arrow. But something is off about this Kirian. His eyes look sunken into his skull, and his facial hair has grown around his jaw and neck. Sleepless nights must be popular around here. Kirian takes the seat in front of me and lets out a sigh. "This won"t be fun for either of us." He whispers. He can"t be bothered to hide the annoyance from his voice.

My hands begin to shake, so I rest them under the table on my lap so he does not see.

Turning my face from scared to brave as I swallow the knot in my throat. "Why am I here?" I ask boldly, my voice unwavering, but my hands still fidget with anxiety out of his sight. I ignore the look of surprise that takes up his face. If I am to be sentenced for witchcraft or spend the rest of my years locked away, I want to know.

"You"re here for committing crimes against Stone." He says, almost bored.

"I"ve done nothing," I tell him. He told me he believed me. Why is he doing this? His sigh sends a puff of air moving my hair from my face, reminding me of how uncomfortably close we sit. I remember his words, "The next man will not be so gentle with getting the truth." He is the next man. Does he plan to torture me for information that I do not have?

He changes his demeanor, leans forward and the already small distance between us becomes mere inches, as much as I want to retreat I do not. His face becomes more sinister as he stares me down. "Do you know Emily Blain?" he asks. I hide the surprise that takes over me well, what an odd question.

Yes, I do, she was friends with my sisters, they attended her boring parties. She ran off with some lower-class man from Flora, Adriel told me her family disowned her. I"m unsure of why any of that matters now though.

"Yes," I say keeping it short, not telling him of her elopement.

"Then you know that she no longer lives in Thorn Row." He states.

"Yes"

"You were friends?" he asks, his eyes still on mine. This is not the Kirian who challenged me for his bow or the one who visited me in that cell. So, who is this arrogant man who sits in front of me now?

"No"

"Hansel Luz knows her, did you know that?" he dips his chin down, looking at me through his lashes. This time, the surprise creeps to my face, and Kirian can tell because he, too, lets the corner of his mouth rise. I had no idea that Father kept in contact with Emily or why he would do such a thing.

"No," I say truthfully.

"We are going to need more than one-word answers, Katsia." Hearing my name on his lips makes me jump a little. My confident mask falls for just a moment. "See, I think you knew her much more than you"re letting on." He growls. I don"t know Emily, I don"t know anyone, not truly, only names and faces, getting to know someone would require me to spend time with them, which I was not allowed to do. But I do not tell him this. "You knew her well. You know why your Father sought her out, don"t you?" his voice is getting louder by the second.

"No." I shake my head.

"No?" Kirian laughs a little, it"s not light and airy like the ones I"ve heard him use before. He is scaring me, but that"s what he wants, for me to be scared. And I am, I always am.

"I was not allowed to leave the property. That day you found me in Thorn Row was the first time I had left in eight years." I try to explain but he does that menacing laugh once more.

Anger starts to get the best of me, this is no laughing matter, this is my life, I"m beginning to think there is no life left, this is the end of my journey. Still, my face warms with rage as I continue. "So, I don"t know anyone or what company my family chose to surround themselves with," I say through gritted teeth, trying to convince him of the truth. But what"s worse than his laughter is what I see underneath, what I see in his eyes at my confession.

"Do not pity me." I spit at him. Tears rise to the surface, stinging my eyes. I squeeze my hands together under the table. "I have done nothing, and why the fuck does it matter?" I"m past angry. I"m seething, barely able to keep my composure. The Shadows show themselves like the time at the lake when I sent the arrow before it tore the fabric from the air and sent it plummeting to the ground. Black blurs the outside of my vision before locking in on my target, Kirian Bear.

His eyes widen, but he does not see them, does not hear their promises of torture and death. "Where do you think Emily Blair is now?" he asks, louder now but still calm, almost joking, as he repositions his mouth into that awful smirk. How does he do that? Turn himself into something wicked in a matter of seconds.

"Hopefully somewhere far away from men like you!" men like Cedric, men like Father is what I want to say. That would only further the pity that sprouted in his eyes moments ago.

His mouth opens slightly, and his head tilts to the side. My comment has gotten under his skin. Regret floods my mind, sending the Shadows skittering back to their dark corners. But I should not care about being unkind to the man that has tricked me, lied to me, and thrown me in jail.

"No, Katsia, she is dead." He states matter of fact.

I stare at him like it does not affect me, and it doesn"t, not in the way it should, maybe, but I did not know Emily aside from through my sisters. "Your Father was the last to see her, and now she is dead." He pushes back into the chair and crosses his arms. "Do you know what that means?" he half shouts. I do not reply to this. He wants me to say what we all know, Father killed Emily Blair, but I won"t give that to him.

I can"t bear to look him in the eye, so I look to the ground instead. "Give me my sentence," I say instead, begging him to get on with it and end this.

"You need to be put through trial for a sentencing." He says to me like I"m a child. "Just tell me the truth. Your Father"s illness, it"s not of Stone, is it?" This gets my attention again. He knows of Father"s illness, Father was here, he was in the cell, and it wasn"t just my imagination. Kirian knows what Father is.

"No, it"s not, but you already knew that," I tell him.

"Listen, we couldn"t care less if you"re a witch. You will be put to trial. You will be hung." He states the facts. I suck in a breath to keep myself from collapsing at his words. "What we care about now is how your Father came across this… illness," he says the word sarcastically.

"I don"t know." I plead with him, adjusting myself in the chair uncomfortably.

"You don"t know?" he shouts before pounding his fists on the table, creating a vibration that rattles the small room.

"I don"t-" I begin, but I do not think he hears me.

"Who gifted you your magic, Katsia?" he continues, his voice so loud that my ears ring.

"Gifted?" I ask confused. I know nothing about how it works, how people get their magic. Knowledge that I never thought I needed, nor was it around for me to study. After my Mother"s death, Father made a point to get rid of her books in the library on account that they contained stories of the occult. My only link to the outside world was the small bits of information I could get from Lupita or from conversations between my sisters that I was not supposed to hear.

"Don"t play dumb. Gifters are hard to come by these days, coveted by the King. You would have been sent to Fauna, trained with The Spent, if that were the case." He lets out an easy breath. Someone would give another this sickness?

"Where is my Father?" I decide to ask, not wanting to think about the intricacies of magic anymore.

"You"re wasting my time, Katsia." He says harshly as he pushes his hands through his hair. Then he leans forward, all the space between us gone. I don"t pull away, I don"t move at all, I can"t. My body is frozen with fear as his turquoise eyes move back and forth between my own. I hope he sees it as strength, like I won"t back down, but I doubt it shows that way.

"Your Father abused you, Katsia. He hid you from the world. Kept you confined for 8 years. Only using your name when he bragged of his kindness and goodwill for keeping you as a child after finding out you weren"t his own." He spaces out the last words so that it sticks in the air.

He doesn"t wait for me to say anything, not that I would have spoken up anyway. "You found a way to get rid of him, didn"t you? You finally had enough. You found someone to gift you magic so that you could curse him." He gets impossibly closer, I can smell his skin, the mint on his breath. I close my eyes. "That makes two." His whisper tickles the skin of my chin. Two what? I wonder. I don"t have to wait long for the answer. "Your curse killed your Father. Congratulations, you got what you wanted. Emily Blair was just a casualty. Doesn"t change the fact that her death was ultimately your fault."

This finally has me moving. I shake my head at all the false words that have left his mouth. Sweat drips down my back, and my body convulses as I hold back tears. My eyes fly open. "No, no, that"s not true. Please, why are you doing this? I just saw him, he- he was here." The tears come now, falling down my face, warming my cheeks further. Finally, I push myself away from Kirian, hugging my body with my arms, ashamed that I let myself get to the breaking point that he so desperately wanted. Weak.

"Oh please, you knew what would happen. The curse fed from his body, he was near death when we brought him in. It was only a day before he passed." He says as he stands. "Just give me a name." He looks down at me.

Father"s wounds appear in my mind, the smell of incense, the tang of alcohol on his breath. The shattering of glass rings in my ears, a memory. Followed by what can only be described as relief. Which I should not feel.

Sobs escape me so fast and heavy that my body catches on every breath. "I haven"t left the castle in 8 years. I know nothing, I am nothing." I reiterate. "8 years." I am now wiping the wet from my cheeks so that I can stand, too, so that I can look at Kirian and tell him the truth.

Kirian still towers over me, making me smaller than I already feel. My knees buckle, and I have to lean against the wall for stability. My head feels light. The little food that may be in my stomach feels as if it could spill out any minute. When I tilt my head up to look at Kirian, more tears stream down my face and drip from my bloodied nose. Pathetic.

Fine, I give up. My truth has been told more truth than I have spat to myself in so many years.

I let my shoulders move up and down as I stand there, terrified of what happens next. Kirian leans in close so that his mouth is at my ear. I try to pull away, but he keeps going, taking a step closer. My back is completely flat against the wall now. His large hand moves to my face. Holding me in place by my jaw, I try to free myself from his grip, but he does not budge.

When I stop fighting against him, he whispers so that no one who stands outside the door can hear him. "You did good. Now scream." It takes me a minute to understand what he just said, but then he pushes me to the floor. I do as I was told. I let out a shriek of terror. Obeying him, yes, but also because I have wanted to scream since I got here, to the world, to myself. He flips the table on its side, then the chairs fall to the floor with a loud crash.

He then takes out a knife from the sheath at his thigh, leaning down before me. He slashes his palm in the center, wincing slightly at the pain. He lifts his hand once more, then he wipes his blood on the right side of my face and down my neck. I do not dare move. It"s almost gentle, a caress, far from the terrifying man I just saw him become. Good or evil, I can"t tell anymore, nor does it matter. Making sense of it will not make a difference. He said it himself. Put to trial. Hung. That is my fate.

New tears replace the old, and I can"t stop shaking. Even as Kirian stands to leave, I keep my eyes on the floor. "She"s useless." I hear before the door closes. I"m left there for what feels like hours, confused and curled into myself on the disgusting floor until guards gather me and take me back to my cell.

Kirian"s blood marks the sheets in crimson, but I do not care. I bury my face into the thin pillow and weep once more.

When Kirian"s words stop repeating themselves in my head, that makes two, and my body stops convulsing. Sleep takes me away. Even in slumber, I remain in the cell. My surroundings are the same, water-damaged walls, red-soaked sheets, the flutter of a torch nearby that makes the Shadows dance. All but one. The Shadow in the shape of a man stands beyond the bars, beckoning for me to come to him with a gesture of his hand.

I go ridged, unmoving from my spot on the bed.

Like one does in sleep, without permission, my body starts moving on its own. I glide over to the metal bars where the man stands. The Shadow"s figure emerges from a pool of black made from the same liquid darkness as his body. My hand unwillingly grabs for him between the metal bars. Before my fingertips reach his blackened shoulder, he falls. Into the puddle like a drop of water. As he goes, he reaches out for me, grasping my hand.

I brace myself with my other as I wait for the pain of metal against flesh. My arm goes with the Shadow, and I"m thrust violently into the bars. Just as I thought, I can"t get through. The Shadow man does not let go. My arm stays submerged from the elbow down, and I"m too weak to pull it out.

Wake up.I try to force myself back into consciousness. My eyes close as I plead the Gods that when I open them, I am no longer in this nightmare. It works, the tension on my arm releases and my body is no longer strained against the bars. I let out a breath of relief. The dream is over.

I open my eyes, but I am not in bed. I am not in the cell at all. I am where the Shadow was standing just moments ago. Outside of my cell looking in, I see myself sleeping, tossing and turning. Wake up, I tell myself with a deep inhale. The body I see on the bed, my body, also takes a breath. Wake up. The blanket slips, revealing nothing but the same liquid Shadow, molded into the shape of me.

Familiar humming comes from nearby. My head whips hard to the right to find the noise. Hunched over his knees, his hands folded, sits the old man. When he looks up at me from his hands, he becomes frightened at first but then, with a playful smile, says, "Now that"s not fair." He half whispers. I can only cock my head to the side and look at him, confused, unsure of why he is in my dream. "Get out of here, girl. I"ll keep your secret." He shakes his head in disbelief as he chuckles to himself. What secret? I wonder but cannot ask aloud. My dreams do not often let me speak.

This dream is nothing more than a wish for escape, the kind I so desperately crave when I am awake. Still, I take a tentative step toward the exit. Then another.

Just a taste of freedom, even if when I wake up, I am still buried beneath those stained sheets. When I pass by the old man"s cell, it only takes a few seconds before he starts his song again.