Kane was the only guard left on duty, and there were no other inmates in the silent system. He went to the middle of the wheel and tightened the screw to its maximum, then with a small sigh, he stepped back and quietly told them they could begin.
It was going to be an impossible task, but Scarlen gripped the handle, dug her feet hard into the ground, and tried with all her might to turn the wheel. A faint squeaky noise came from the middle as the wheel moved all but an inch.
She glanced over her shoulder to see how the movement had affected Bear. He was slumped half on the handle, half over the middle, his eyes fluttering, his mouth drooped, a dribble lacing his ghostly skin. She turned and gently wiped his mouth with her sleeve. ‘Just take small steps,’ she whispered, knowing Kane could still hear. Knowing she could add more time to their punishment just for talking, but Kane paid an interest in his fingernail as he turned his back on them.
‘He can go to the healer.’ Kane leaned against the wall by the door, his voice matter-of-fact. ‘But only if you’ve turned the wheel once.’
There was no way Bear could help turn the wheel, as he could just about stand, so Scarlen took a deep breath and pushed as hard as she could, gritting her teeth, growling out herfrustration, which she knew was also not allowed. Silent meant just that, but a rush of anger, confusion, and hurt swept over her, bringing sheer determination into her arms, her feet, each breath.
The sound of a gull filled the icy air for a moment, its cry reminding Scarlen there was life outside the prison, and she knew once free, she would do something about the way things were run. Warden Cardell, Horstal Island, Jontson, and that fucking bitch Binnow were going to receive all of her royal attention, whether her father approved or not. Somehow, she would find a way.
Burning in the shoulders struck Scarlen first, swiftly followed by back pain and cramping calves. Each time she moved the wheel an inch, she checked Bear was still upright. Still being guided around. His mumbles were incoherent, but he was awake, if not alert.
It grew dark with rain looming, and the occasional turn of the beacon faintly illuminated the tips of the high walls, while the hushed sound of the bay brushing against the island soothed, encouraging Scarlen to keep trying.
Was her father watching now? Could he see the cruelty? Would he even care? She cared. That’s all that mattered, and soon the whole kingdom would know the truth of Horstal Island.
Moving another inch, she wondered if she should go straight home after her sentence or continue to run away. She had always planned the latter, but how could she be of use to the inmates if she wasn’t wearing her crown?
So much of Scarlen didn’t want to ever live in the palace again or see her father, but things were different now. The people in the prison were in danger; she had to help. She had to be the princess. Perhaps that was the point of her father’s cruel games. Was he making her the princess she was supposed to be? Hard, cold, fearless. His personality. Milon’s.
The thought led her to her brother. Obviously, he had done nothing to change the horrors of Horstal. Why? Why would he leave such a place and not look back? She could understand how someone might want to block out the experience, but surely it would haunt him.
Bear groaned, so Scarlen paused to gently wipe his mouth once more. ‘Almost there,’ she whispered, then glanced at Kane’s back. He remained silent, so she carried on.
She wasn’t almost there. She was coming up to a quarter way but felt it best to only speak positively. Perhaps Bear had no idea what was going on anyway, but she liked to believe he could hear her, that she was a comfort somehow.
Another deep breath, and another inch. Hate stopped driving her, taken over by the need to get Bear to the healer. He needed to rest. His friends would take the best care of him, and she could tell Wynter all was well.
Tears pricked, but she blinked them away. That wasn’t happening. Nope. There was a time to cry, and it was never in company. Her father would take his belt to her backside for such an embarrassment.
A pain shot through her hip, causing a moment of soundless cursing, then she pressed on, ignoring the soreness also in her shoulders by silently singing to herself. A song her mother would sing when tucking her in at night.
Let moondrops wash away the day
You’re safe on clouds so soft
Each precious moment spent with you
Soaring with the doves
Over the seas, my sweet
Over the land
Over the trees, my love
Through the sky, through the sky, hand in hand
Scarlen sniffed, her memories of such gentleness reaching deep within her soul, cradling her close, breathing new air into her burning lungs. Onwards she marched, gripping hard into each footing, closing her eyes while pushing, the song loosening the screw, her mother’s love extra hands on the wheel. Together, they walked. The voice of her little sister cheering for her. Always believing Scarlen could do anything.
Oxley’s voice echoed around her. ‘Come on, Smithson. You can do this,’ he roared, and she glanced towards the doorway to see him standing there, hands gripping the bars, his lips tight, eyes stern.
‘This is the silent system, Torro,’ said Kane, but there was no authority in his tone.
‘I’m not on that side, sir.’ Oxley made no eye contact with him, looking only at Scarlen.
Kane turned to watch the turning of the wheel, clearly showing he wasn’t going to punish the man who often took his money for sex.
