“Mr. Caphree,” she huffed as she marched past the cells. “You awake?”
“… Qorrea?” he replied, shocked as he shuffled to his feet.
“I require you. Just a moment and I’ll have the captain fetch his keys.”
She rounded the corner and headed to the tiny office where Captain Balast had apparently heard her and was collecting himself. He was always a little disheveled, but his post didn’t typically receive royalty.
“My Light,” he said, bowing quickly.
“Captain. Where were you? I’ve been calling,” she said breathlessly.
“I was…” He hesitated. “I had to relieve myself, My Light.”
“Oh,” Yemi replied. Reasonable. “Alright, well, tank’s empty, I trust. Find an escort. Mr. Caphree is to be delivered to my office as close to now as possible.”
“My Light, that’s highly irregular—”
“But you’ll do it anyway.”
“… Yes, of course.”
“Good man. I’ll meet you up there.”
She turned and clicked back up the hall, content for at least a few heartbeats that something was getting done.
“One fish down, one to go. About damn time,” Wall muttered from the corner cell as she passed.
Yemi halted as if she’d hit a wall. She made out a grin full of broken teeth behind the crescent perforations of the cell door, and a feeling the likes of which she’d never felt before settled dense in her bones; her jaw clenched so hard her teeth sounded like crunching snow.
“The fuck did you just say to me, you stain?” she growled.
Before she could gain clear sight of him, a dense wad of blood-tinged mucus landed square on her chest, and his laughter rang throughout the hall.
“I outlived the Bear Queen!” he cackled, his voice warping in her ears.
A white-hot rage pulsed behind her eyes, and the line between what she could do and what she should began to fray rapidly. She imagined barely registering the weight of keys in her hand, the popping release of the cell lock, the slick of traitor’s piss at her heel as she stepped inside and strode toward him. His words, venom and fevered curses wrapped around her mother’s name, streaming from his curled lips. This, until she slashed a smile into his throat and watched the words bubble from it instead.
The fading light in the traitor’s eyes of little interest, she would simply relish the silence and watch his blood glisten on her blade instead.
But she remained on her side of the cage, hand pressed to her stomach as if willing it to steady itself. The air was growing hotter. The scents of blood and ember swirled about her, dizzying though not unpleasant. There was a beckoning in it, curious and seductive like wine to a drunkard. Saliva pooled in her mouth, as if she were starving or about to be sick.
You know your anger,her mother’s voice echoed in her head, a moment of clarity in an intoxicating fog.
Yemi’s eyes snapped open. The prisoner still leered at her. Nova rounded the corner, merry for the moment at least.
“There you are, My Light. Orie was asking about the beacons and…” She trailed off, noticing something amiss in Yemi’s manner. “What happened?” she asked warily.
“Does anyone else have anything to say about the departed queen?” Yemi roared throughout the dungeon. “Anything to get off your chest while I’m standing here?”
All was silent but the rattling of chains in the wind and the crackling of torchlight.
“Captain,” she called. The captain rounded the corner quickly. “Do you have what you need from this one?”
“He’s been the least forthcoming, but I believe interrogation is done with him, yes,” he replied hesitantly.
“Then he has no further need of his tongue.”
He blinked, panic-stricken. “My Light, you—”
