“I suppose I do.” My dismissal was softened by my practiced, melodic tone. The one I’d used countless times at court to appease an audience while making a graceful exit from tired conversation.
But instead of granting me an exit, the Traveler said, “Humor me. How is it you’ve come to be so well versed in the happenings of the Hive?”
Being married to one of the richest, well-traveled men in Atoris for over a decade. That’s how. Hollis had reluctantly hosted Travelers only when unavoidable and absolutely necessary. His bulbous features would twist into a pained expression anytime he had to address a Traveler as ‘Lord’.
“They weren’t born into their position, they were forced or volunteered. They own no land, hold no titles, and contribute so little. It’s preposterous,”Hollis would spout once the guests were out of earshot.
I contemplated my options, which consisted of say a lot, say a little, and say next to nothing. I settled for the truth. “Only through terrible rumors, my lord.”
His dark hair swayed as he tilted his head. “Mmm. Some of which are true, I’m sure.”
“The world is full of horrible truths, my lord.” The conversational chess game continued.
“Well said.” His crooked smile emerged again from beneath his dark stubble. “But horrible enough to choose death by the axe?”
A chill slithered through me as I recalled gruesome details ladies shared to pass the time while our husbands would handle business.
Slow torture. Gnashing teeth. Blood-filled halls. So much death, you could smell the decay from one hundred miles outside of the Hive.
“Yes,” I declared, trying to ignore the sweat breaking out at the base of my skull.
“Hm,” he grunted through flared nostrils at the end of his pointed nose.
A torturous silence settled between us. My restlessness and aggravation compounded in the tactical quiet. He had my answer. Why would he linger?
“Lord Trav?—”
“What were?—”
Our voices collided, but I yielded to his question.
“What were you doing? When I arrived just minutes ago?”
Heat pricked at my ears as the lie sprang from behind my teeth, “Sleeping, lord.”
“Oh? Curious.” His strong brow furrowed over his discerning gaze. “The guard said you weren’t decent.”
I was caught in a lie, and the delighted glint in his eyes suggested we both knew it.
“Praying. I was praying,” I recovered, pressing my toes into the unforgiving stone.
“Of course. How noble.” He kneaded his hands together. “What were you praying for?”
“My lord?” I tilted my head, genuinely taken aback by the question.
He stood, reminding me of his height advantage. Instinctively, I maneuvered farther away from him into the opposite corner. Like he was performing a dance, he circled behind the chair, stopping to place his hands on its back.
“What. Were. You. Praying. For?” Each word landed with a menacing, eerie weight. His stare pierced into me from across the moonlit cell.
I was a grown woman sentenced to die. I didn’t need to feel embarrassed for how I found comfort on my last day in the realm of the living. But I didn’t owe him truth either, not in this.
Lie. Lie to him. Say anything.
“Safe passage for my soul, lord. To the afterlife,” I breathed as a piece of the shaky foundation of my fib crumbled.
His full lips pursed. “Just a reminder, I can offer you safe passage as well.”
“To the Hive.”
