“Two days,” he says.
Two days. That means I can still make it. “So, you’re not going to the Eldenpillars, then?”Distract him. Make him share his plans. Use it against him.
“Correct.”
Was it a coincidence that he ran into me? Somehow, I doubt that. He has too much of a plan and purpose. “You must have quite the tracking skills to have found me,” I say, not sure if he’ll respond to my bait, but hopeful that his ego will compel him to do so. If he has a well-thought-out plan, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist boasting about it to me, his unfortunate victim.
I’m right.
“Your necklace,” he says, a cruel grin spreading across his face.
My hand automatically wants to touch the beautiful crescent moon he gifted me. Instead, I’m again reminded of how stuck I am, bound to the chair.
“I didn’t think you’d accept the gesture, so I was pleasantly surprised when you thought we were close enough for a gift.” He releases a harsh, humorless laugh. “I’d completely forgotten how utterly stupid humans are.” The utter disdain on his face makes my skin crawl. His contempt for humans surpasses that of any Rean I’ve known; it’s a chilling thing to witness.
The bright smile he shot me two days ago flashes through my mind, the way it lit up his entire face. How different would his world have been if that were his true self? There was something about that smile though...
I jolt. Fangs. He has none! When Vilder or Seniia smile like that, their canines are easy to spot. Reü doesn’t have any. Isthatwhy he never smiles? I study his face intently. HelooksRean. He’s as handsome as any of them. My gaze glides across his tall frameas he continues to pace the floor. He has the build of a Rean male. He’s even moonborn. But weak. Weaker than all the others. Is he half human? It all clicks into place. It isn’t me he despises so much; it’s the human part of himself.
But none of that changes the fact that he has me captured. I’ll survive first, then I can pity him later.
“If I’m nothing but a powerless, stupid human, why don’t you untie me?” I smirk at him.
“You’re right,” he says, and to my surprise, he walks over to untie the ropes holding my wrists in place. There’s no way it can be this easy. He steps around me so we’re face-to-face again.
“There, be my guest.” A cruel smile plays on his lips.
I roll my aching shoulders a couple times, then bring my hands in front of me to inspect my bloody wrists, and my heart almost stops. I’mbraced.
“Now you’re under my control.” A chilling expression spreads across his face like a dark shadow as he holds up the piece he’s been toying with—the mother piece.
It takes all my self-control to remain calm, and somehow, I manage. I study him carefully. How familiar is he with the brace? There are several limitations that come just with wearing it: I cannot tell a lie or wield a weapon—unless it’s the shadowshard, of course, but is he aware of that? And there’s no getting around that I have to obey his commands, whatever they may be. But unless he actually gives me any commands, I’m free to do many things. Except running away. I’ve experienced firsthand the amount of pain caused by straying too far from the mother piece. Besides, I’ll need him to get the brace off of me again. Unless he’s dead, of course—then it’ll fall off by itself.
I bite my lip, contemplating the idea. If I can get my hands on my shadowshard, thatisan option, but can I go through with it? I cast a quick glance at the black dagger. Now that I’m standing, I can see that the rest of my daggers are lying next to it, making me think he doesn’t know I can wield the shadowshard when braced. No, he has placedthe daggers there to taunt me, thinking there’s no way I can touch any of them with the brace on.
He follows my gaze. “I bet you’re wishing you could use one of those right now.”
I stay silent.
“Answer me,” he snaps.
“I am,” I say, the brace forcing me to be honest.
He nods to himself, clearly satisfied with his control.
“Want to tell me why you ran away?”
“No,” I say, then scoff at his confusion. He needs to do better than that.
I realize a moment too late that that was the wrong move. Fury twists his face, a mask of hatred so intense it seems to darken his features.
“I command you to break your finger. Let’s start with your right pinkie,” he says. “Now.” A cruel smile plays on his lips.
Although I know it’s futile, I fight it. Pain soars up my arm, spreading throughout my body like a thousand needles pricking me from within. Nausea rises, and with stars dancing before my eyes, I fall forward, vomiting onto the floor.
Reü takes a step back, a disgusted look on his face.
Unable to fight it anymore, I take hold of my pinkie and break it with a sickening crack, the pain causing another round of nausea.
