Page 5 of Hell Sent

Eunaios huffed, straightening. When he turned away, Azreth watched him return the baton to its hook on the wall before he left.

The days seemed to get longer. There was no sun nor moons visible from his cell to track the time, so he could only judge its passing based on the comings and goings of his captors.They did not seem to plan on letting him out of the cage any time soon.

Several times a day at least, he tested the barrier again. It always held, and he became more tired each time he tried it. He could feel himself growing more feeble by the hour.

Was this really better than the hells?

Yes, of course it was. Or it would be, if he was patient.

He’d assumed that the humans had brought him here to use him—not just to let him die here.Was it possible that they didn’t understand how the kin lived? Perhaps they didn’t know that he’d die if he was left down here without feeding for long enough.

The next time Eunaios came to paint his runes, Azreth reluctantly spoke to him.

“I require sustenance,” he said, disliking that he had to beg. But if they truly meant to bind him, this was only the beginning of many indignities he would suffer at their hands before he found a way to escape them.

Eunaios looked up sharply, then narrowed his eyes. “So you do speak, after all.”

“Yes.”

Eunaios studied him. “You’ll have your sustenance soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Why? Are you desperate?”

Azreth said nothing. He wished the man would come closer. Perhaps he’d be careless and let one of his billowy sleeves graze through the barrier wall. Azreth would pull him through, and he’d be dead before he could even scream.

“Ourlord,” Eunaios began, putting sarcastic emphasis on the title, “is the one you must ask.” He waited, as if expecting Azreth to react. When he didn’t, he added, “I’ll inform him.”

Azreth was left alone for several days more.

The silence, the emptiness of the place, the hunger and helplessness, wore him down. Somewhere in the distance, he could sometimes hear small scurrying animals running through the cracks in the walls. He found himself hanging on every sound, desperate for any stimulus that would break up the time.He began to hear phantom footsteps in the hallway every now and then. He would sit up, staring at the dark doorway for long minutes, only to eventually realize there was no one coming. He grew strangely nervous, jumping at the creaking of stone or drips of moisture through wet rock.

He’d been beaten and tortured and nearly killed many times before. But he’d never been trapped like this, alone with no magic, no way to fight, no control, no paths forward. It was a kind of slow torture. It made his limbs itch, like there were insects crawling under his skin. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Until finally, the woman came.

Three

Azreth sensed her coming before she stepped through the door. He was so starved that even through the barrier, he could sense the spark of her emotions. Her fear.

Lord Nirlan, smiling a little, dragged her through the doorway, and her eyes focused on Azreth just as intently as his did on her.

Was she for him?

This was the third mortal he’d met up close, but the first female. She was human, like the others, but she looked different from the males. Slightly smaller and finer-boned. Her skin wasn’t quite as pale as Nirlan’s. Instead, it was a faintly earthen color, and her hair was as shiny black as his own. Her eyes were dark and somehow seemed more watchful than the others’.

Nirlan shoved the woman closer, and she fell to her knees in front of Azreth. She looked up at him with her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. Fear spilled from her, and it was like wine pouring down his throat.

Salivating, he leaned closer to the barrier. He’d heard that mortal blood was sweet and bright red, like the juice of some rare fruit. The woman’s skin was thin, and he could see the flutter of her panicked heartbeat in her delicate throat, her veins plump and ripe.

He forced himself to pull back a little. He couldn’t bite her. She might die. He didn’t know how long it would be before they gave him another mortal to feed from. He couldn’t waste this one.

“Nirlan, please don’t do this,” he heard the woman say, her voice small and distant through the barrier.

Nirlan was smiling faintly. His hand was on the back of her neck, which might have passed for a loving caress if not for the way her skin was turning white where his fingers dug into her.“Don’t do what?”

“Feed me to it.” There was a slight crack in her voice. Though she spoke to Nirlan, she was still staring at Azreth, her eyes shining.

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