“Two somethings,” Ghat interrupts, a strange sound coming from him like he’s clearing his throat. His heavy brow furrows for a moment.
“Two somethings,” Eorn corrects, his yellow eyes fixed on Dorsin. “Ones we can break...compliments of you, of course.”
I cringe at the thought of what’s being asked for. Will they be given some other girl from the room of cages? Or will they be allowed to pluck one from her life, like they’ve stolen me? My chains clink as I shift my weight slightly, and Eorn’s hungry yellow eyes drop down to me, a slow smile splitting his flat leathery lips. Ghat makes a weird throat-clearing noise again, and with annoyance Eorn turns to him. I expect Ghat to ask for me or to propose some other term he feels as though his brother has forgotten to ask for. Instead, when he grabs for his throat, I see the confusion that flashes in both of the orcs’ eyes.
A small, strangled wheeze escapes Ghat, like he’s choking or having trouble filling his chest with air. I’m confused by what’s wrong with him, and then a vicious snarl fills the room, making me yelp in response.
“What have you done?” Eorn bellows, as his brother drops heavily to the ground. Eorn takes a step toward Dorsin, and then his furious yellow eyes widen with rage and shock, and he grabs for his own throat. I track the orc’s gaze as it moves from the fae to the empty glasses on the desk and back to Dorsin again. “You spineless traitor,” he hisses as he takes another staggering step closer to Dorsin. “I’m...going...to...kill...you,” he gasps, the threat falling flat to the floor just as he does.
Vibrations from the impact of the large orc’s body buzz beneath my knees. I’m so taken aback by this shocking turn of events I don’t even know what to think.
“Killme?” Dorsin mocks with a humorless laugh. “Beat you to the punch there, you brainless sack of stench,” he snaps, moving back to the other side of his desk where he settles gracefully into his fancy chair.
Why would he kill them?I wonder, adding the inane question to the pile of things I doubt I’ll understand before someone probably kills me. I look back at the two orcs, one of them convulsing so hard I hear bones snapping. I silently hope my death isn’t so painful. Movement in my periphery catches my attention, and fear erupts in my chest when I see Eorn slowly pulling himself closer. Angry yellow eyes are fixed on me as a red foam gushes out of the irate orc’s mouth.
I scramble back, the chains allowing me to move a few feet away until my body is pressed against the warm stone of a corner. I’m trapped and he’s still slowly coming for me. I press back as much as I can, making myself as small as possible and ignoring the pain that climbs up my back from pressing my burns into the gritty slab behind me. I open my mouth to scream for help just as Eorn stops his steady progression and starts to convulse. I close my eyes against the sight of bright green blood as it starts to stream out of the orc’s nose and eyes. I cover my ears with my hands to try to stop the sounds of a shattering skeleton from sinking deep inside of me and scarring whoever I am forever. I will my body to melt into the large brickwork at my back, knowing I’d be better off if it would simply swallow me whole and never spit me out again.
But nothing happens.
No one saves me from the sight feet away.
As quickly as it all started, it ends. The orc brothers go still. The room once again falls silent. The two hulking bodies start to melt like fresh snow in the desert. In one blink they’re dead on the ground, and in the next blink all that remains is a thick cloudy green puddle, leather pants, and more blades than I can count soaking in the putrid fluorescent sludge.
I gag, pulling the neck of my ripped and dirty shift over my mouth and nose in an effort to block the smell that starts to plume from the puddles. Dorsin comes from around his desk and sprinkles a powder on the orc remains, creating an orange smoke that starts to billow and swell. The fae moves to the far wall and pushes a heavy tapestry out of the way. The fabric is secured by a hook in the stone, and then he unlatches the large window that the now pleated tapestry just revealed. Pushing it open, Dorsin twirls his hand, and a rush of air pushes into the room, gathers the orange smoke, and then promptly chases it out the window into the night.
Wide eyed, I watch it all. The air behaves as though it’s an obedient herder and not a powerful wild element. Awareness settles like a fine mist in my mind. I’ve seen displays like this before. I recognize Dorsin’s ability for what it is, though frustratingly, I can’t put a name to it. I can’t even recall when or where I’ve seen a powerful fae use a gift, but I know that I have.
Dorsin stands by the window, quietly watching something. Stars tease me over his shoulder, and I feel as though I can hear their celestial call, feel their encouragement to find a way out of these chains and far away from this place. The moonlight stretches toward me, its invisible caress a balm to my filthy fear-tracked skin and the wounds now marring my body. The back of my arms and shoulders starts to itch, the iron burns somehow healing. The chains attached to my wrists clang as I reach over my shoulder to feel for the wounds at my back. My fingertips find smooth undamaged skin, and my brow furrows with confusion.
“I allowed you to heal because it serves me,” Dorsin declares, and my head snaps to where he’s still standing by the open window, his cruel blue eyes now trained on me. “Your pain and broken body could serve me just as well. I want you to think about that while we...spend time together,” he goes on, moving away from the window and closer to me.
I’m still pressed against the corner, the stone a standing sentinel at my back. I drop my hands in front of me as though somehow they’ll be useful if he attacks.Whenhe attacks, I correct myself, because he will; I see it written all over his face.
“Your time with me doesn’t have to be horrible. Do you understand that, Auset?”
My stomach starts to churn with renewed unease as he unhurriedly strides even closer. Panic pushes my heart faster, and my eyes prick with fear and frustration.
“I asked you a question, Auset, answer me,” he snaps, and my spine goes rigid at his tone.
“Is...is that my name?” I stammer, instead of answering the threat he’s pretending is a question.
He pauses mid-step, his dark brown eyebrow doing that small tic up that I observed earlier. “Don’t play with me, girl,” Dorsin warns. “You’re old enough to have heard the horror stories about what I do to people who displease me. Don’t think who your father is and what I want from him will spare you.”
“Who is my father?” I demand, immediately cringing back when my steely command sparks an angry blaze in Dorsin’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” I rush to get out as he prowls toward me, menace etched in his features and his fists balled with promises of pain. “I’m not playing at anything. I swear, I don’t know!”
He grabs the chains anchored to the metal embedded in the floor and yanks them hard. My limbs scream as I’m jerked away from the wall, and I fall forward at the murderous fae’s feet. His hand is suddenly fisted in my hair, and he’s pulling me up as I cry out and scramble to get my chained feet under me.
“I’m not being deceitful. I promise I’m not,” I cry out as he brings his irate face even with mine.
He smells like early spring grass and fresh morning dew, and I struggle to fit the innocent scent of him with the look of rage he’s wearing.
“Do I need to beat who you are and what your father owes me back into that useless mind of yours?” he roars, his eyes scanning my face for answers. “Should I fuck it into you instead?” he asks silkily, shaking me as though he expects an answer to come falling out. I whimper and try to push away from him, but his hold in my hair just makes it all hurt worse. “He’s been hiding you away, hoping no one will notice, but he’s forgotten how he got you in the first place,” he snarls at me, spittle flinging from his lips and speckling my face. “I know what he needs from you…what he hopes your existence will give him,” he declares virulently. “He thinks he’s so cunning. How many lords and heirs have crawled between these thighs and spilled their secrets alongside their seed?” he bellows at me, his other hand ripping my dirty, mangled shift from my body.
I scream, but he shoves the torn fabric into my mouth and throws me against the wall. I don’t get my hands out in front of me fast enough, and I catch the rough wall with the side of my face. The impact disorients me as I crumble to the ground, unable to do anything as he starts to kick me. A hard boot connects with my stomach, ribs, arms, legs. He’s screaming at me, but I can’t hear what floats in the venom of his words over my own cries.
Pain explodes in my body as I try and fail to crawl into a protective position, but he just aims his rage at any newly exposed parts of me. I can’t keep up, can’t hold the hits off no matter how hard I try. I feel ribs break, and agony sweeps through me not only from Dorsin’s attack but now it accompanies each move or gasped, desperate breath. My screams fade into pathetic mewls and whimpers, and all at once, I cease trying to stop what he’s doing and instead...I embrace it.
Let me die and be done with all of this for good.
