Wellion rolled his eyes. “No, you just have to worry about witch hunters stealing them if you can’t bribe them to look the other way. And you still have to pay taxes to your king. In that respect, I don’t see how your land is much different than what we havehere.”
Riann sighed. He couldn’t very well argue, and yet… “The Maroyan Empire seems to have figured out a way to live under the rule of law, and by all accounts they are a happy and prosperous nation. And in their country, you can love and marry whomever you want. So it obviously can bedone.”
Wellion scoffed. “I have never been to the Maroyan Empire, so there is no way for me to know how much of that is true. Things are rarely as shiny as they seem on the outside—I’m sure the Empire has its own share of restrictions. As for love…that is just an illusion. There are only degrees oflust.”
But even as Wellion said the words, Riann caught a momentary glimpse of wistfulness in the bandit’s eyes. “You’ll change your mind,” he said. “You just haven’t met the right woman yet.” Riann couldn’t fault him for his ideals—with the kind of father he had, and the family business he grew up in, it was little wonder that Wellion did not believe inlove.
Wellion stood, his gaze shuttering. “Enough of this talk,” he said tersely, his eyes growing cold again. “You are supposed to be learning how to be a bandit, not convincing me to be a good man. Perhaps I need to remind you of your fate if you do not convince my father and me that you are one ofus.”
Riann swallowed as he followed Wellion back to the dungeons. He unlocked the heavy door, but instead of sending Riann back into his own cell, they went deeper into the dungeon, to where Riann had heard other prisoners too far away to engage inconversation.
They stopped in front of one cell about halfway down, where a man huddled in the hay. His clothes were torn, his nose crooked, his face and arms covered with yellowingbruises.
“This is Ralith,” Wellion explained in a flat voice. “He is a farmer, and the husband of the young woman currently sharing my father’sbed.”
“Why is he here?” Riann asked, disgust coiling in his gut. “Is it not enough punishment to know his wife is being defiled by yourfather?”
“Please.” The man lunged at them, grasping the bars of the cell with too-thin fingers. “Tell me that she is okay. She is not being harmed, isshe?”
Wellion drew his sword a few inches from his scabbard, and the man hastily retreated. “She is fine, and will continue to be fine as long as she pleases myfather.”
The man nodded, falling back. Tears streamed down his face, and Riann rounded on Wellion, his chest burning. “You haven’t answered my question,” he growled in a low voice, unable to hide hisanger.
Wellion gave a harsh laugh. “My father did not take his wife as punishment,” he said with a cruel twist of his lips. “He merely saw her, and wanted her, and took the husband as leverage to ensure she cooperates. There is nothing that can be done for either of them, and when my father tires of her, he will kill themboth.”
Riann felt sick to his stomach as Wellion led him to the next cell. How could he ever have thought the bandit had goodness in him? What kind of person could sleep soundly knowing good people suffered just two floors below? How could Wellion stomach being related to a man who would tear a wife from her home, and force her into his bed with such heinousblackmail?
Wellion stopped in front of the next cell briefly, which held an old man. He poked at him briefly with his scabbard, but the man only curled in on himself, muttering nonsense. His white hair was matted, his body reduced to a bag of bones covered in rags as he huddled in the dirtystraw.
“Why has he not been fed?” Riann demanded, but the question was already answered when he spotted the tray of uneaten food on the floor. “He refuses toeat?”
Wellion nodded curtly. “He has been here so long that frankly I can’t remember the exact offense that landed him here,” he admitted. “I do know he did something to anger my father—he was some kind of rebel, trying to get the locals to rise up against us. But months of sitting down here in the dark has driven him mad. It is only a matter of time before he perishes fromstarvation.”
“You should let him go,” Riann said tersely. “At least allow the man a few days of sunlight before he comes to an end.” A deep sadness swept through him, and he hoped that should such an unfortunate mental state ever befall him, someone would put him out of his misery quickly, rather than leave him to languish insuffering.
Stop that. You’re going to get out ofhere.
Wellion led him to the third and final cell, where a man in his forties sat. His hair was disheveled, a month-old beard covered his jaw, and his clothes were filthy, but they were of fine make, and the way he glared up at Wellion and Riann, so imperiously, toldhim—
“Are you here to release me?” the man demanded, straightening up to his full height. Or he tried to, anyway, but Riann noticed he was slumping a little, as if he had a rib that pained him. “Surely my ransom has been delivered bynow.”
“I’m afraid you are not as valuable as you thought, Lord Raffis,” Wellion said, a mocking tone in his voice. “It seems all your wealth and influence is useless once you’ve been thrown into a rat hole. Unless you think you can bribe one of my men with…other talents.” Hesmirked.
The man recoiled. “How dare you speak to me that way,” he spat, his face paling beneath his scruffy beard. “When I get out of here, Iwill—”
“Scurry back to your lofty mansion, and hope that you never see my face again,” Wellion said coldly. “Cowards like you always do. And if you threaten me like that again, I’ll have you killed anyway, ransom ornot.”
He turned away, and Riann followed him silently back through the dungeons. The sound of the farmer’s sobs haunted him as he climbed back up the stairs, and he wished he could rip the bars off the cage and free thesemen.
But he knew they wouldn’t make it ten steps before they were either shot down or stabbed. If he was going to free them, he would have to be prepared to go withthem.
“Lord Raffis is clearly getting quite nervous,” Wellion said when they were above ground again. He locked the heavy dungeon door behind them, then hooked the key back on his belt. Riann wondered just how many people had keys to the dungeons—obviously Wellion and Sallara, and their father, and whoever was in charge of feeding the prisoners. “It has been close to two months since we took him hostage, and no one has paid his ransom yet. But then, considering his situation, I’m not surprised.” Hesmirked.
Riann knew there was a story behind that statement, but he was too angry to pull that string. “If the purpose of this demonstration was to cow me into obedience, you have failed,” he said shortly. “If the day should ever come when you throw me into the dungeons, know that you will have to kill me, for I will fight with my dyingbreath.”
“Better not push me to that point, then.” Wellion sneered, his gaze growing frosty again. “If you care so much for those prisoners, why not try to free them yourself and see whathappens?”
Riann shook his head in disgust. “I’ll be in my own prison if you need me,” he said, stalking off. He could feel Wellion’s icy gaze on his back as he walked away, but he did not turn to look back. He was done trying to make nice with the bandit captain. It was time to leave this wretched place, before he was forced to do something he could not livewith.
