Scorched Treachery (5 page)

I spun around the corner and slammed into the thick barrel chest of a man who smelled of death and smoke. I didn't need to look up at him to know who it was. I pushed my hand into his chest and sent a stream of fire into it, only to be met by a shield that blocked my pointless attack.

"My, my, Wynifred. You would think that after a few hundred years
, you would know better," Edmund hissed, his thick fingers curling around my tiny forearm.

I tried to pull away, but I wasn't even sure why. There was no escaping now. His fingers met the small indentation of my spine through the skin in the back of my neck, and I felt the
white-hot heat of his magic shock into my spine. His magic surged, numbing each and every one of my nerve endings and muscles before I could move even so much as an inch. I felt the ripple of the attack move through me before everything went dead, my body going limp as I fell into his arms. He held me against him, my head lolling. My unfocused eyes came to rest on the bruised, bearded man Edmund had been dragging around by the chains attached to his wrists.

I couldn't ev
en move my eyes, I realized. I just stared at the intense green gaze of the battered man as Edmund placed a smooth stone on my tongue, his magic pulsing just enough to force a reaction that would make me swallow it. The tiny stone slipped down my throat and toward my stomach. The further it traveled into my body, the more numb and unresponsive my magic felt.

An
omezující stone. The rare rock that was given to prisoners as a magical restraint.

I felt it as it lodged itself in my stomach, my numbed body unable to fight it. I felt my magic slow to a stop, freezing in place before it traveled to surround the rock – where it would stay until I could find someone powerful enough to remove it.

I could feel the wetness of my silent tears roll down my cheeks, my body accepting my defeat without my permission, accepting my loss.

"Wonderful," Timothy said as he came up behind us. "I was hoping someone would grab the little whore."

Timothy grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, my eyes drifting to the roof of the cave tunnel, unable to focus on their own.

Edmund chuckled at my father's comment. His rumbling voice vibrated through my head as he hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me down the hall, my desire to find my mate pulling me in the opposite direction.

My
body was still numb. Edmund had carried me into the dungeons below Prague after he had incapacitated me. The dark space was cold, wet and smelled of mildew. I had wanted to look around, see what horrors had made this place forbidden, but my eyes still would not respond to my commands. I stared into the darkness as my hands were bound and chained above my head, the chain extended until I was pulled to a stand, my weight supported by my wrists, my weak legs not able to hold me. Even though I could feel the stone against the balls of my feet, I couldn’t move my legs to try to stand against it.

They left me there,
alone, strung up against the cold stone. I hoped that the mysterious power I shared with the stone of these walls would awaken and ignite, but the rock Edmund had forced down my throat had done its job. I was powerless.

I stayed like this for hours, with only the darkness for company
, and an occasional movement or whimper off to my left. I wasn't sure if it was a rodent or the battered man that Edmund had been dragging around behind him.

Time passed. I was sure that if I could feel anything, my shoulders would be on fire, my wrists screaming and broken from supporting me for so long, and my legs
numb from lack of movement. I felt nothing, saw nothing but black.

I don’t know if I had passed out or simply slept, but the clanging of chains woke me, the subtle pressure of fingers against my spine. I heard the sound, felt the touch, and everything inside of me woke up.

I had been wrong. It wasn't pain in my arms and legs that the numbness had taken away; it was agony. Without my magic to numb the sensation, it quickly moved to torture. I screamed as my brain registered the pain, the sound echoing off the dark walls. My scream hung in the damp air even after the wide fist collided with my face, leaving more pain at the heavy impact. I screamed again at the pain, only to have another punch join the first. I whimpered, and this time the hand hit me with a wide palm, the message as clear as day. The less noise you make, the less you are hurt. Say nothing. I did not need the words to understand the lesson that that hand was teaching me.

The chains that suspended me clattered again as they were moved higher, extending my body until I was on my
tiptoes, the stone cold and uncomfortable against my back. I screamed at the movement, whether I wanted to or not, the sound loud for a moment before the same hand smacked my cheek, the face of the hand’s owner swimming into view.

"Silence, princess," my father sneered, his lip curling underneath his large moustache. "There are consequences."

He slapped me again, his movement unprovoked except in warning. My cheek stung, and my body screamed, but I said nothing, refusing to give him rise to the occasion, to let him win. I just stared into his eyes, the irises as dark as mine, waiting for more. But none came, and his smile only increased.

"Aren't you going to say hello to your father?" he sneered. "I think I have taught you better manners than this."

I stared at him in silence, my eyes wide as I taunted him, as I dared him. If I was anyone else, I would have whimpered and given in to him, but I couldn't, something deep inside wouldn't let me. Timothy's eyes narrowed at my defiant gaze, his confidence wavering at my stubbornness. Good. He may kill me, but I was going to put up a fight until the very end.

"Say, hello," he sneered again, the stubbornness I had inherited from him forcing him on. I shook my arms
; the fire burned through my arms, and I winced, my taunt lost as pain seared through me only to settle in my spine. I couldn't stop it. A groan escaped me as I fought back a scream, my jaw clenching painfully as I attempted to keep the scream behind my lips.

I should have just screamed. Timothy's fist collided with my face, turning the groan into a scream – a scream that triggered another impact of Timothy's fist against my cheek.

I froze, keeping the noise trapped in my chest, a lone tear escaping my eye whether I had wanted it to or not. I looked at my father with as much hatred, as much power as I could muster. I found the sleeping magic within me and prodded it, but nothing happened. My now mortal body was useless and strung up before my father for whatever torture he had in mind.

"Say, hello," he prompted again, his fists flexing by his sides.

I stared at him, my jaw clenched, ready for the impact to come – when he smiled.

“Don’t you want to see your mate, princess?” he snarled, and my eyes widened. His smile only increased. I hung my head, not wanting to let him win, but I had no other choice. This time he would win.

"Hello, Father," I growled from behind clenched teeth. He said nothing. He only nodded his head to someone in the dark and the chains loosened, sending me tumbling to the ground. My arms were still extended above my head, although not as painfully as they were a moment before. My body relaxed with the loosened position, and while I still fought the urge to scream and cry with the pain, it was manageable.

"You do what I say, Wynifred. I
do not care what deal Talon worked out with Edmund. You are my child, and I will do with you what I please." His voice was soft as he came to kneel down next me, his finger pushing aggressively into the tender skin of my now battered face.

"You stay silent, you do as I say, and we may not have to do this anymore."

I glared at him, not willing to take my gaze away, not willing to accept the weak position he had set up for me. He took my silence as affirmation, the pressure of his fingers leaving my face as he moved away from me.

"Good girl," Timothy said, his voice making it sound like he was addressing a dog. “Now, your brother has just arrived in Prague, and I am sure he has news, if not
a heart, for your Master.” He smiled once more before disappearing into the darkness, the heavy sound of his footsteps on the stairs announcing his departure.

I tried to focus through the dark, squinting to see anything through the black that surrounded me, but without the aid of my magic, I saw nothing. I eventually gave up and sank back into the wall, trying to ignore the fire that was thrumming in my shoulders and arms.

"Do what he says, Wynifred, and keep your secret safe." The voice came from the darkness where the movement had come from before, the sound deep and rough like sandpaper. I recognized it at once. It was the same voice I had heard in Ovailia’s room, the one that had told me to run.

I turned my head toward the sound but only saw darkness, my eyes squinted
, but no shapes formed through the black.

"Excuse me?" I asked, not sure what the voice was talking about, my voice broken and muffled because of the swelling in my face.

"No talking!" The new voice was loud and powerful. The warning from what could only be a guard floated through the air toward me, and I shrank into the stone wishing I had a way to attack him.

No magic to heal my body, no magic to increase my sight, and not even the slightest of pulls to signal to me that Talon was alive. I clung to the hope that he was still alive as I leaned my head against the
stone wall, wishing sleep would take me but knowing it wouldn't. Without wanting to, my eyes floated back toward the darkness where the rough male voice had come from. I could only assume it was the battered man Edmund had been dragging around with him.

I wished I knew who he was – or at least part of me did. The other part was not so sure. I didn’t want to know whose side he was on or what Edmund had done to him. I didn’t want to know what Edmund was capable of, what was in store for me.

For years, I had watched them drag Skȓíteks down to the pit of whatever house we lived in. I had heard the screams, seen the blood that they washed off their hands. Now I was on the receiving end. I didn’t want to know what was behind the screams. I didn’t want to see the blood being drawn.

Now I was going to. I had seen what they had done to the battered man, and to Talon. I didn’t want to think about him because the thoughts only brought fear, but part of me was rejoicing that I wasn't alone down here.

The minutes stretched into hours and thankfully, my arms began to go numb. My head swam as my blood flow got all muddled, my body calling for water, food, and above all, a bathroom – none of which, I knew, would be provided.

I shifted my weight for the millionth time, the chains rattling as my joints surged with pain before settling back into the burn of numbness that was becoming normal.

Still, sleep did not come, no matter how much I wished it would.

I jumped as steps sounded on the staircase, the loud thump of feet cutting through the icy silence that had been the only sound since Timothy had left. The heavy sound of feet, many feet, increased as they came closer. Tension built in my stomach, the flare of fear working its way up my spine. My eyes looked through the dark, toward the
sound, desperate to make out anything in this utter blackness.

"This guy is heavy!" The thick voice of a man filtered down the stairs, his voice deepened by the echo of the stairway.

"Stop complaining and use your magic." Another one joined the first, my stomach twisting with uncertainty.

"This is ridiculous," the first man said, "Edmund is just going to kill them all anyway."

An impatient growl followed the first man’s comment and a loud rumble of something being dropped on stone echoed through the cold dark room.

"What is going on here?" A new voice, a voice I recognized at once, cut across the first two. Cail's voice was loud and angry as dozens of footsteps joined the first two who had clogged the stair well.

My eyes were drawn to the only light I had seen in hours, a gentle blue light that got stronger as the voices got closer. It shone through the blackness directly in front of me, the light dim but growing. I pulled toward it, like a moth, my desperation for sight rippling into my spine. Soon, the glow was enough to filter into the prison, letting me see what hell I had been trapped in.

The prison was a long wide hall, one half broken up with thick metal bars that segmented us into five
-foot by five-foot squares, with not even enough space to lie flat and straight. There were no windows, and it was obvious that nothing had been cleaned for centuries. I had smelled the mildew smell before, but now I knew why. A glistening sheen of wet covered the stone, the bars, even the large padded stool where a lone guard had sat. My eyes burned a bit at the light as I looked around. All the cells were empty to my left, as well as all but one to my right – where the battered man I had seen before was chained by his hands against the wall. He caught my gaze as I looked at him, the bright green of his eyes startling even in the dark. He eyes pleaded with me from behind his unkempt beard and hair as he placed his finger to his lips. I only nodded; the need for silence was evident.

"Why aren't you two down there yet?" Cail continued, his voice rising.

"I'm sorry, sir," the first man said, his voice soft and pleading.

I couldn't help the twitch that moved through my spine as Timothy's voice joined the others. "Just get down there and do what you were asked."

"Yes, sir," the two men mumbled together, and the footsteps returned, the light increasing as they all moved into the prison.

The battered man’s warning was lost the moment I saw them. The two men I had heard arguing a moment before carried with them a hulking form with a mess of sandy brown hair I knew all too well.

"Talon!" I couldn't help it. I screamed, I yelled, and I fought against my chains. The small space filled with my voice as I yelled for him, the rattling of my chains almost loud enough to drown out my panic.

H
e didn't respond. He didn't even twitch as they dragged him into the cell right next to mine, dropping him to the ground and not even bothering to chain him before they closed the bars that trapped him in the tiny space.

My body was on fire as I fought against the chains, every muscle, every bone, pulling in agony. I barely registered the pain. My need to get to him was too strong. I needed to touch him, to feel his heartbeat, to prove that he was still alive. I
screamed, battled, yelled and pleaded, knowing it was of little use, but still, I couldn't help myself.

"Will someone shut her up?" I heard Timothy yell above my screams. I should have seen someone coming, but I was so focused on Talon’s limp body in the cell next to mine that I didn't know anyone had come into my cell until a foot collided with my stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of me and sending me back against the wall.