“Comfortable, brother?” Thrain emerges behind his men.
Sigvid nods, kicking some hay about. “All I need is a warm bedfellow. Be certain to tell Avina which cell I am in.”
“Trust me, I am counting on her to find you.” Thrain hisses.
“When does his torture commence?” Ceowald interrupts, clearly oblivious to their sibling feud. “My daughter used a phenomenal torturer in Scarwood if you are in need. Lenzo’s fire extract brought this one to his knees in pain.” He suggests a tool of Sigvid’s impending torture as if they are discussing tea selections.
Thrain chuckles and dismisses the lingering soldiers. “I have an old friend traveling from Timber. She has a unique Sacred Stone ability we will be exploiting. Enjoy your last night of comfort, Sig.” Thrain leers at him as he and Ceowald abandon him to the darkness.
Sigvid does not sleep that night. Instead, he stretches his body to keep his mind focused.
War is on the horizon.
He can taste it.
He needs to wait long enough for Slode or Grim to free him. Grim does owe him a rescue.
Briny God willing, Slode found Avina first and got her safe to Sjoby with Mother and Thora.
That was his arrangement with his Inner Circle should anything happen to him. To hide her away so Thrain and her father can not use her to capture the country.
Without a window, it becomes difficult to judge time. Rusted iron bars surround the walls of his cell, allowing ample viewing of the victim. Sigvid reclines against the far wall, counting them.
He suspects it is afternoon the next day when the slamming of doors and thudding of footsteps signal the arrival of his brother’s old friend.
Thrain, Ceowald, and a mysterious petite woman enter the back torture area of the Toftlund dungeon.
Ah, Thrain’s torturer arrived.
Her dusky hair falls at oddly varying lengths around her head. Ablack, skin-hugging dress shimmers in the firelight. As she nears, her unsettling scarlet eye flashes in contrast to her one green eye.
“Good afternoon, Sigvid. I trust you slept well.” Thrain leans against his cell, arms crossed.
“King Ceowald has questions for you. If you answer promptly, my friend here,” he says, placing a delicate hand on the woman's shoulder, “can take today off.”
Sigvid does not shift other than to glower between his brother and Ceowald. He has nothing else to say.
“Where is my daughter?” Ceowald’s conversational attitude tears through Sigvid’s chest, boiling his rage beneath the surface. “Where is Avina?”
Sigvid sneers.She did escape their clutches.
“Did you harm her?” Ceowald stumbles over the question, and Sigvid laughs.
“Sigvid Thordsson, did you hurt Avina Bloodstone?”
Sigvid doubles over laughing.
His twisted humor incites Ceowald, who pounds against the bars with his fists. “How dare you mock me! Where is my heir? Have you killed her?”
His heir.
The man’s false sentiment is too much. Sigvid throws himself against the same side where Ceowald stands, touting his feigned affection for his only child. Sigvid’s arm shoots through a gap, and his grip encircles the king’s neck. He slams Ceowald’s face against the rusted bars over and over.
Thrain does not even react.
“I know Avina is alive because you are here asking asinine questions,” Sigvid snarls. “If she died, I would not be in jail. No, Ceowald, if your daughter died, I would raze the entirety of the Endless Shores to the ground. Understand, I love Avina more than my ability to draw breath. She is the crown of Treland, and onlyshewill take that power—not Thrain and certainly not you!”
When he releases Ceowald, the Ridge King stumbles back into the dungeon, clutching the side of his bleeding face in horror.
