A large woman stepped out of one of the previously closed doors, turning my direction. She was broad and tall, her dark hair braided down her back, a white apron gripped in her fist, and her gaze downcast as she moved her broad frame into the kitchen. I had heard rumors of the tall, part-giant people from north of Heimland, but I was momentarily shocked at having seen one in person for the first time.
I held my breath, trying to make myself as a small as possible and sending a quick prayer up to the gods. I hoped she hadn’t seen me.
At first, I assumed that everything that had happened was in my favor, but as I pressed myself up against the wall, trying to figure out how to pass the open doorway as slyly as possible, she poked her head around the doorframe, her gaze colliding with mine.
“You better hurry back to your room. Markus and Syrus will begin the rounds soon.”
That was all the encouragement I needed. I took off at a run toward my cell, counting the doors ahead so I could turn right into it when I found it. I ached to ask the cook why she hadn’tturned me in, or called for guards, but there hadn’t been time. I would have to wonder, and plan my future runs to the laundry room earlier in the morning.
Heart pounding, I rounded the corner into my room, sliding the doors shut just as I swore I could hear a door opening down the hall.
Hands filled with sopping wet cloths, I dashed to the chamber pot, wringing them out a final time before glancing about and wondering just where I could put them in this small box of a room.
Footsteps approached and I urged my brain to think faster.
Just as I heard the creak of my door opening, and Syrus called out the morning wake-up call, I laid them across my pack situated behind the door. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was the only one I had. My heart was racing, my lungs barely able to handle the breaths I was forcing into them in rapid succession.
Breathe, don’t pass out. Please.
Moments later, the door opened again and my daily stale roll was placed in my hand. I had long gotten over the fact that it was stale though, shoving it in my mouth as hurriedly as I could between sips of water. My stomach protested, aching for the eggs or bowls of grains I had once eaten daily for breakfast with Collum and Milo before we prepared for our ruse (and Collum for bed). At that thought, my chest ached, and I wondered what had become of my brother and cousin. I hoped they were living well and that my brother had chosen to propose to Helene. Though I would never have a chance with Roger now, at least something good had come out of this unique form of torture I was experiencing.
Even as I assured myself that both Collum and Milo were better off without me, worry curled in my gut, increasing my discomfort. I was still in the same town as my cousin and brother, and I hoped my brother had done the smart thing and changed his appearance immediately. Because while I was stuck in this prison, Adis wasn’t, and the last thing we needed was toaccidentally see me about town when I was supposed to be trapped here.
Especially because he would be put to death.
The anxiety consumed me, and my eating slowed to the point where I struggled to swallow my last few bites. I tried to push the worries away. I had enough of my own issues, Collum and Milo could take care of themselves.
The resolution came just in time, as the door was pushed open and Markus held out his hand for me. Begrudgingly, I placed my arm in his hold, allowing him to drag me down the hall to empty my chamber pot into the pit designated for such purposes before being dragged back to my room to replace the pot before being tugged once more toward the room where I read. It was hard to stay focused and not to let my gaze stray to the potted ferns by the door, which I knew could be toxic when boiled and ingested.
As we made our way toward the room that had become the bane of my existence—which I had begun calling the reading room in my head—the sight of myself in the looking glass in the laundry room resurfaced.
What did the gold rims in my irises mean? And why did Adis, Markus, and Syrus all have them now? I knew it had something to do with my reading, the problem was, I didn’t know what. And I didn’t know how to find the answer either.
If only Collum were here.
Within moments, I was shoved roughly into the room, Markus releasing my arm just as I lost my balance and fell to the floor in a heap. My knees protested as they scraped against the stone I was forced to kneel on day after day, but my lips stayed shut. I had learned to save my every breath for reading. Even though I was reasonably certain the bruises on my knees were now permanently etched into my skin.
Today was no different than the rest, and the black book was shoved into my hands with force, nearly knocking my frail body over, but they didn’t seem to care. I flipped through the pages,finding the one where my voice had gone out the day prior, biting my lip as I realized it was near the end. We would finish reading the black book today.
Adis waltzed in, his hands clasped behind his back, his outfit impeccable as always, his lips pressed in a thin line. He never offered any pleasantries, and I wasn’t sure he even knew my name anymore as he would only say “Begin, Reader,” before turning his back as my words rolled over him.
Today was no different, and soon my voice filled the room as I recited page after page after page. I tried to discretely understand what I was reading, but it was hard to maintain the chanting, reading, and comprehension at equal levels. My mother had always said the Seid language was about passion, and without passion, the words meant nothing. Now, I only wished I had paid closer attention on the dark nights when she had dragged me into her room, teaching me to read by candlelight even as I protested. I blinked the memory away—no time for that now.
To my surprise, it didn’t take long to finish the book, and soon I was speaking the last note, the sound of it hanging in the air as I pushed the book closed and held it out in Adis’s direction, ever obedient.
“Hmm,” Adis hummed, keeping his back to me, his hand on his chin as he stared at the dark painting. “Markus, Syrus, do you feel any different?”
I kept my eyes focused on Adis’s back, though, out of the corner of my gaze, I could see Markus and Syrus inspecting various aspects of their bodies, even flipping their hands over and back.
“No, sir,” they reported in unison.
I wondered why the Viscount Adis had been asking, but it didn’t take long to find out as a phantom breeze brushed my long hair past my ears.
A force of habit, I reached up to replace the errant hair only to realize we were in a room that had glass windows—meaning there was no way for wind to enter. Craning my neck out ofhabit, I spotted Markus, eyes wide as he stared down at his hands.
“Do it again,” Adis commanded, his voice seeming to echo off the walls.
Markus flicked his wrist, and air whistled by my ear.
