Zorwal turns to me, his stare heavy and hard. “Did Mirella suggest that you should spy on me? This could be your chance to leave this dreadful cell. Perhaps drink some water.”
Could be. I’m not sure what kind of idiot he thinks I am.
I shrug. “I can lie. I could tell you anything you want to gain my freedom, but it doesn’t mean?—”
“Answer my question.” Zorwal’s stare turns into an icy glare.
I avoid even glancing in Mirella’s direction, as that could make him suspicious, and say, “She didn’t. I was out in the castle, saw Otavio, and wanted to know what he wanted.” As much as I hate it, I think some pleading now would be nice. “I meant no harm. No betrayal. I can promise never to tell anyone anything you said, not that I even understood what you discussed.”
“Quiet.” He stares at me and at Mirella, and tells her, “Go. We’ll crown you tomorrow. I’ll deal with the filthy human.”
Mirella bows, turns around, and leaves without a single look of concern. She could be pretending, like me, and then she could be simply glad she got off easily. Now, I don’t think she’ll come to my rescue, but maybe she’ll want to find out about the conversation I heard, and that’s when I might be able to negotiate, even if I’m not sure what. At the same time, Zorwal might suspect her.
“How can I help you?” I ask, forcing my tone to be as snarkless as possible.
He stares at me, the corner of his mouth lifting in gleeful anticipation, a flicker of lust in his eyes.
I step back, horror taking hold of my body. If he enters this cell, I swear he’ll get beheaded again, even if it costs my life.
And yet he doesn’t move, just watches me with that odd glint in his eyes. Something makes my cheek burn. I press my fingers on my face, and feel blood—and pain. It was so sudden that I’m more surprised than anything.
My arm then feels the same, and I see a deep gash across my biceps. It hurts, but feels unreal as if it was happening to someone else, not me. My most immediate fear is that these cuts will turn into ugly scars. What a silly fear. And yet Renel’s face comes to mind. Would he still want me? Does he even want me?
Zorwal watches me, his smile fading.Figure what your enemy wants. Otavio’s words come to me in a flash. I hate that man, hate Otavio, and yet he might not be the most despicable creature alive. And even if he were, sometimes he had useful advice. What does Zorwal want?
I feel another cut on the back of my hand, then notice his disappointment—and suddenly I understand. He wants to see me suffer.
I bring my hand to the cut and yell in pain, the most horrific yell I can muster. I try to focus all my pain, hatred, fear, and anger in that yell.
“Please, stop!” I plead. “I’ll do anything.” I sound weak, pathetic, but I think that’s exactly what he wants.
I’d rather pretend I’m broken than push him into hurting me more and more until I break.
“Really? Will you promise?”
“Yes!” I rasp.
“Your promises are worthless, human. Enjoy your night with no water or food.”
He turns around and walks away, leaving me here, bleeding, hurt, hungry, thirsty. I don’t think I know what he wants. He didn’t even ask for anything.
His steps stop, then he approaches the cell again. He looks at me, then waives a hand. The pain stops. I touch my cheek again, and feel no cut.
Zorwal smirks. “Next time I might not heal them, so be careful.”
I don’t know if he wants me to beg some more, yell, or what, and either way, he leaves before I can decide what to do. I exhale in relief and collapse on the floor, my heart pounding.
If all he’s doing is torturing me for the sake of torturing me, I can’t see how to find a way out of here.
Mirella.
But I don’t know what she wants, or if she would be willing to help me. I don’t know what Zorwal wants either. I don’t know what anyone wants.
My butt starts to hurt and I decide to sit on the stinky mattress. Everything stinks anyway.
And I don’t know how I’m going to find a way out of here.
13
