“The only thing to differentiate you from most corpses is that you yet draw breath.”
Marcello does a double take, his gaze flicking over me before he turns back to the Werma. “How can that be? She seems whole and hearty to me.”
I flick my eyes down, clenching my hand into a fist as I stare at the Valknut.
“Don’t act so surprised,Imperial,” the Werma spits, calling him by his culture as if it is an insult. “It is you who caused this.”
I whip my head up to glare at Marcello so fast that one of the tightly bound braids in my hair whips me against my cheek.
He holds his bound hands up, nearly dislodging the blanket on his shoulders. “Wait no, that can’t be right. She must be lying.” Marcello glances between me and her nervously, his eyes flicking to Tira who has edged closer. He licks his lips and swallows. “I’ve never… I’ve never killed anyone before. I’m not responsible for this.”
“I am not mistaken, nor am I aliar. And you are responsible for far more death than you give yourself credit for, boy.”
Marcello’s mouth opens and then snaps shut before it opens again. He works his jaw, resembling a man who is having the air choked out of him.
Tira steps forward, clearing her throat. “With all due respect, oh wise one, how couldhepossibly pose a threat to our Laduga?”
I straighten a bit. She does have a point. The only real threat of the Imperials is their numbers. They are somehow able to all work together, following a strategy and answering to a chain of command. They even move as one as if they have lost all individualism.
It is a foreign concept to a free spirited Nelgatans like myself, but it seems to work. After all, how else could they have gotten such a foothold in our lands?
But this Marcello is alone, unarmed, wounded. He is a captive.
If it came to a fight, I’m confident I could easily win, and that is not even with the aid of my dragons who I know would never allow any harm to befall me.
“Even if you did see me as a threat, which I’m not sure you do,” Marcello’s eyes dart between us. “I wouldn’t hurt Laduga here.” He gestures to me. “I have nothing against you… well, other than the fact that you tricked me, kidnapped me, and tried to kill me.” He shrugs. “But that’s in the past now, isn’t it?”
I wrinkle my nose wondering if he is trying a tactic to make me more at ease with him or if he is truly foolish enough to believe that. Although there is a part of me that perhaps admires his ability to have such an innocent viewpoint on life that he could tell an enemy that what she did to him is all in the past.
Still, I do believe that he is not directly responsible for the fact that I’m going to die. At least not purposefully. The Werma is speaking in veiled words and riddles.
I glance down at the Valknut, inked black in my skin just like the inky dark substance that leaked out of the men in the vision. Even now as I look at it, I see that the ink appears to be spreading in veiny threads across the inside of my forearm. I look up at the Werma.
“This is a curse of some sort. A death curse?”
I’m uncertain how that could happen, but if there is one thing the Werma passed on to me, it’s the belief that nothing is truly impossible. Not in a land where there are no gods to uphold a natural order.
Even with the herbs the Werma shouldn’t be able to see the future, that was something that was never meant for a person to experience and yet she has that ability and she passed it on to me in the form of frantic, uncontrollable flashes that I wish I could be rid of.
The Werma gives a sharp jerk of her head that I’m left to take as a nod. “Indeed, it’s a punishment for trying to take his life.”
I flick my gaze to Marcello whose eyebrows have shot up in surprise. “Why would I be punished for trying to killhim?”
Marcello was an enemy soldier I captured, not some innocent I murdered in their bed. My killing him should not have upset what natural order we have left.
Marcello bites down on his lip as he gets a far off look in his eyes. “Does this have to do with my mother?”
“You’re sharper than you let on,” the Werma concedes.
“Thank you?” Marcello says, but it sounds more like a question on whether it’s actually a compliment or threat. Perhaps he is sharper than we give him credit for if he knows not to take anything the Werma says at face value.
I reach up, pinching at the bridge of my nose. “So, are you going to state what exactly is happening to me and if there is any way to stop it, or will you continue wasting what time I might have left before this death curse comes into effect?”
“That’s one thing you always lacked, even when you were a girl. Patience.”
I fold my arms. “And you always lacked the ability to be blunt.”
“And I’ve always lacked both,” Marcello says. He holds up his hand, pointing to the ceiling. “Look I see that there’s a lot of tension between the two of you, but this also concerns me, so I’d dearly like to know.”
