CHAPTERSIX
Tears welled,threatening to spill over, and I sniffled. The stories of the gods were convoluted at best. Maybe, the food thing was just a myth and not real.
Maybe I—
“No, no, no,” C’adon muttered, tugging at his hair and rattling his chains in earnest. “She weeps. She weeps! What have I done?”
He jumped to his feet, turned and ran at the wall, colliding with the stone so hard that he toppled backward like a felled tree and bounced once before settling.
My mouth dropped open, and I looked. Right at him. Blood ran from a cut on the bridge of his nose and his upper lip.
What in the hell had just happened? Had he purposely run into a wall because I’d started crying?
“Make amends,” he whispered.
I snapped my gaze back to the plate and quickly wiped the tears from my eyes. In my peripheral, I saw him turn his head toward me.
“Payment is due.”
Not liking the sound of that, I picked up the bread with trembling fingers and shoved what was left into my mouth. He lifted his torso off the floor and watched me. I couldn’t read his expression without looking at him, but given the silence, I knew I’d surprised him.
I chewed rapidly and then gulped the water in order to swallow the bread. When I put the cup down, there was another piece waiting on my plate. I ate that one in a rush, too, and licked the grease off my fingers before reaching for my cup.
“She hungers.” The quiet awe in C’adon’s voice was plain confusing.
Why else had he conjured bread, if not to quiet my growling stomach? Although if he thought I wasn’t real, maybe he hadn’t actually expected me to interact with his magic?
If eating his bread stopped him from running into walls and traumatizing me more, then I’d keep eating the bread. Denying myself food at this point wouldn’t do any good anyway. The damage, if there was any, had already been done.
The sudden appearance of a third piece of bread on my plate distracted me from my thoughts, and I continued to eat what he magicked in front of me. What other practical options did I have? Starve, try to find the monster-filled dining room again (no, thank you!), or eat what C’adon conjured. Since I didn’t want to die from starvation or endure death by mauling, I chose C’adon’s bread.
So, like the glutton in the chains, I ate and drank until my stomach hurt, refusing to regret my choices or think of future consequences. Who knew when C’adon would next remember to feed me?
A yawn snuck up on me, and I covered my mouth while glancing at the fur covered bed. Although the mattress and a nap tempted me, I was more interested in what might be underneath the frame. A glint of gold gave away the object I needed.
I headed for the door, hoping he would be as entertained when I kicked him out of the room this time as he had the last time. Behind me, I heard C’adon slowly drag himself off the floor. A smidge of guilt wrestled with the indifference I was trying to form. Was it cruel to make him leave when he probably had a broken and bleeding nose? No. Yes. Maybe?
The soft rasp of his feet against stone grew in volume at his unsteady approach.
He did it to himself. If he can’t bother to care about hurting himself, then neither can I. If only I could believe that.
Continuing to stare out the door, I waited and tried not to fidget.
“Playful wisp,” he said just beside my ear.
I stifled any visible reaction to how his words startled me.
“I like this game.”
He chuckled as he continued past. The moment he cleared the doorway, I slammed the door shut and bolted for the pee pot. I couldn’t contain my sigh of relief. What was I going to do when he stopped leaving the room willingly? Dead people didn’t pee. On second thought, he’d used it and was in Hell. Maybe some souls did pee then. After all, using the out-of-date pot sure could qualify as a form of torture.
Why were some beings insubstantial like the woman Megan had delivered and some real like C’adon and the glutton? Maybe it was a difference between human souls and creature souls. Maybe only creatures stayed corporeal when they died. That could definitely work to my benefit if it were true. If C’adon discovered I was real, maybe he would believe I was a creature too.
Cringing, I thought of how I’d set my head against his chest and hoped that hadn’t already changed his view of my existence.
I used my remaining water to rinse my hands then wet a clean bit of my gown and “brushed” my teeth. What I wouldn’t have given for a fully stocked bathroom. I wondered if there was a way to trick C’adon into conjuring one.
Probably not. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he was my personal tormentor, but because I hadn’t been especially wicked, he could only mildly torment me. Like conjuring spaces with no running water and little food, all while following me around and scaring me with his crazy act.
