19. Nineteen

Nineteen

A soft knock at the door made my eyes flicker open. My head was screaming at me, my mouth feeling like I had eaten fistfuls of sand. I was laying in my undergarments by the door, not remembering at what point during the night I had stripped from my leathers.

The smell of Landers still flowed off me from the night before and I groaned at the memory. Wishing it had been lost to the wine sloshing around in my stomach. I was going to be sick.

I pushed myself a few inches from the door and reached up to open it just enough to see out. Andrues was standing on the other side with a tray in hand, grinning at me.

“Rough night?” His face full of amusement as he watched me through the sliver of the door. I groaned as I dragged myself to my feet and pulled the door open just enough so I could reach for the tray of food. He slapped my fingers away.

“Ow!” I barked at him, pulling my hand back inside the room.

“Either I come in with the food, or you come down to get it. Your choice.” He was absolutely loving this.

“Fine.” I shut the door with a loud thud, groaning at the pulse the noise created behind my eyes and scoured the floor for my nightshirt. Spotting it hanging off the bed, I pulled it over my head as I swung the door open and motioned my arm to invite him in. Andrues strode into the room like he had been there a thousand times, walking over to the sitting area in the corner and placed the food on the small wooden table.

“Come.” He motioned me over with his head. “Eat with me.” If it weren’t for the smell of the dishes he uncovered, I might have told him to get out and let me eat in peace. I slipped into the chair across from him, lifting my knees to my chest and reaching for the glass of water he set in front of me. I drained it, and flicked my fingers over the rim to refill it. I downed the second glass, setting it to the side as I reached for the toast that still had steam rolling off its golden surface.

We didn’t speak until I finished my fourth slice and emptied a third glass of water. I finally looked up to find him relaxed and lounging in the chair, like this was our regular morning routine and I wasn’t sitting across from him like a feral animal.

“ So ,” I dragged the word out. “This isn’t going to be a fun day for me, is it?”

Andrues smiled softly as he held his hand out before me.

“May I see your wrists?” With slow movements, I lifted each of my hands into his. They had gotten worse. The blisters had popped, encasing the burns in a thick yellow substance. He ran his fingers along the center of it, and I sucked in a sharp breath between my teeth. He looked up at me, letting my hands fall into my lap.

“This will be very painful to heal.” His brows creased. “And there will be a scar.”

“What is it?” The smell of the fiery ropes burning through my flesh flooded my senses and I flinched at the memory.

“The ropes are called Uthrens,” he said, standing to remove his jacket and hanging it neatly on the back of his chair. He pushed the sleeves of his black linen shirt up his forearm, revealing a scar that twisted down his right arm. I let my eyes inspect them before following the scars raised surface up and around his neck.

“You’ve been burned with them before?”

“Yes.” His eyes flickered at the memory. “The night I met Pri.”

I nodded, not wanting to pry and anxious about what would happen next.

“My stomach, thighs, and ankles were burned too.” I unfolded my legs from under me and placed my feet on the floor. “How do you heal them?” I asked, meeting his eyes. He sighed deeply, as if he didn’t want to answer.

“We have to cut open each wound with a cauterized blade and drain them. Once that is complete they need to be left open to dry out before healing the wounds shut.” He gazed at me with sincere and apologetic eyes.

“It will be the most pain you have ever experienced. The nature of the Uthrens is to cause continuous suffering after the initial burn. This makes it easier for The Silliands to capture hostages because most people, after they have been burned, will end up going back to them days later, pleading for the pain to stop. I must say,” He raised an impressed brow at me. “I am surprised you have gone so long without a single complaint.” He sat again, resting his forearms on his knees and looked up at me.

“They leave a residue in the wounds called Svech. All the weapons in The Silliands are coated with this. If you do not know how to extricate the residue, the burn will keep spreading, and the pain alone will eventually kill you.” None of what he was telling me eased my anxiety in the slightest.

“Thank you for the encouraging pep talk,” I quipped with nervous sarcasm as Andrues smirked back at me.

“Is there anything I can take to dull the pain while we do this?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Nothing I have tried has worked, other than pain transference.”

“Pain what?” A faint smile crossed his lips at the confusion in my voice.

“Someone can take on the pain for you or share it as it comes.”

That is horrible. Who would ever knowingly put someone in that kind of pain unless you were trying to torture them?

“Do you want to ask someone to help you shoulder the pain as we heal you?” Andrues asked gently, like it wasn’t the most selfish thing I could ever do.

“Absolutely not,” I snapped. Andrues chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as I stood from my chair, realizing I had this entire conversation without pants on.

My face glowed like rubies as I dropped my hands to the seam of my shirt, trying to pull it down as far as I could to cover myself. He broke into a laugh that was so full of warmth that I couldn’t stop myself as laughs began to bellow out of me.

We stood there momentarily, clutching our sides before we regained control. We beamed at each other as our last few laughs echoed through the room.

“Well, I guess that’s a good way to start my torture.” I grinned, the endorphins keeping my anxiety at bay. “Where do you want me?” I looked around the room as he cleared his throat.

“The bath would be best. The water will kill the bacteria in the wounds once we extract the residue, and the heat from it will calm your muscles,” he said nervously, avoiding my eyes. “Of course, if you aren’t comfortable with that location, we can do it elsewhere.”

“The bath it is.” I grabbed my robe as I strode into the bath chamber pulling the shirt over my head. “I can keep these on, right?” I asked, pointing to my undergarments as he nodded, keeping his eyes locked to the ground. I stepped into the pool of water and the pain pounding between my ears eased. His reasoning for doing this in water became clear as my body slowly regained strength.

“Is all the water in the house like this?” I splashed a bit of it over my face as he answered.

“Yes, this house is built over a healing lake deep below the forest floor. Everything in this area holds properties that can help heal if you know how to use it.”

Andrues sat on the floor next to the bath, laying out bundles of herbs and small marble bowls to mix and crush the ingredients in. I watched in awe as his fingers twisted and turned in the air as more tools appeared before him. It was beautiful, almost like a sacred ritual, as he weaved invisible knots through the air.

“How long will this take?” I asked with nervous anticipation; the endorphins fading as fear of the pain that was coming sunk into me.

The sooner we started, the sooner it would be over.

He glanced up at me while his hands continued to work skillfully, creating a salve with the liquid and herbs he had conjured.

“It could take all day. I will not truly know how bad each wound is until I cut into them.” He looked back down at what he was creating. “Some could be worse than others.” I took a deep breath.

I wouldn’t be able to train, which would put us behind schedule and we needed to leave this place soon. If I was going to have any chance at protecting us, I needed to be on that field. I sighed, setting my chin on the edge of the bath and tried to remain calm. Andrues wiped his brow as he set the finished salve to the side and looked up at me.

“Are you ready?” His voice was tight, sorrow flickering behind his eyes as he took a sharp breath.

“No, but I guess I have to be.” I lifted my right wrist out of the water and set it on the baths ledge as a string of light appeared out of the floor and slithered over my arm, anchoring it to the floor.

“This will help keep your arm still while I work.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes glued to it. He held a knife over the small flame of a candle burning beside us, then positioned it only centimeters off my skin.

Andrues eyes met mine as he said, “Forgive me,” then cut into my wound.

The scream that left my lungs sent ripples through the water—shaking the chandelier above us. Agony coursed through my body as I thrashed against that silver cuff holding me down. My eyes blurred, and shadows shot from my back, trying to drag me away from the blade slitting me open.

Andrues encased us in a dome of light forcing my shadows to recoil as he made another cut.

My screams echoed through the house, the noise sounding as if it were splintering the very foundation it sat on.

I couldn’t see.

I couldn’t breathe.

Every cut was worse than the one before; every inch of me writhing in misery.

“Please, make it stop!” I shrieked as hundreds of tears drenched my face. “Please! I will do anything! Make it stop!” I pled with him through each of my sobs.

Andrues didn’t look up as he continued to heat the knife and carve into me.

Over and over again.

I felt as though my body would break into a million pieces, like my blood was boiling just under my skin, and I wanted to claw it out.

I needed to claw it out.

“Get it out of me!”

Another cut.

“Please!” I wailed, roaring in torment.

He was going to kill me.

This pain was going to kill me.

“Please!” I begged over and over again.

It was too much. I was not strong enough to endure this. I needed out. I needed to be anywhere but here. My cries bellowed out of me in wave after wave of agony as he strapped down my other wrist.

There was nothing but flashes of red in the blackness that my vision had dissolved into; my throat tearing at each screech that flowed out of me.

I was breaking from the inside out as he made the first cut into my second wrist. I could feel my body giving in to the misery that clawed at my soul.

Hours.

It felt like he had been peeling layer after layer of flesh from my bones for hours. Glass crashed to the floor as my lungs let out a deafening cry.

“I can’t. I can’t,” I wept, rocking back and forth, holding myself with my free arm.

All I could do now was beg for the Gods to take me.

Free my soul from this torment, and let me pass from this realm into their arms.

“Just let me die!” I screamed over and over with the fragments of voice I had left.

Andrues hands, once precise and focused, now shook as he continued his grueling work. The scent of burning flesh mingled with the aroma of herbs, creating a nauseating atmosphere in the room.

The dome of light he conjured flickered, responding to the chaos unleashed by my shadows. With every cut, I felt like I was unraveling, my very essence laid bare before him.

Through the haze of pain, I glimpsed the worry etched on his face. He was caught in a struggle between his duty to heal and the anguish inflicted upon me.

The floor around us bore witness to my suffering, the remnants of glass shards from a shattered mirror scattered like fallen stars.

The air crackled with tension, and my body convulsed. The strings of light binding me to the stone floor offered no solace, only a cruel reminder of my immobilization.

My world became a maelstrom of pain and pleading, the lines between consciousness and oblivion blurring.

“Let me die!” The words, a desperate mantra in the cacophony of my torment.

“Hyacinth,” I felt a soft voice behind me as arms wrapped around my waist.

The Gods had heard my prayers.

They had finally come to release me.

“Help me,” I whispered through tears. “Please.”

“Try to breathe,” the voice said as a hand pressed on my chest. “Breathe.”

Their scent poured over me, and I clung to them. My nails tore into the skin on their arm as another surge of pure anguish ripped through my body.

“I can’t do it anymore.” I had no tears left in me as I prayed to the Gods it would end.

“Let me take this from you.” The voice sounded urgent now, scared. “Give me your pain,” they whispered into my ear, brushing my hair away from my face.

“Please,” I begged.

And then, as if emerging from a dark tunnel, the pain ceased, and all I felt was the warmth of the body and the water around me as I slipped into unconsciousness.