Page 24 of Between Despair and Hope

“I’m not playing chess.”

“Zen, take his thumb.”

“Fuck, fine!” I shouted, knocking over three pieces in an attempt to move one.

“Sweet Ciarden, you’re pathetic.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Dec.” His shocked repulsion from the nickname was comical, and I found myself chuckling like a fool.

“You won’t be laughing once I’m done with your family.”

I didn’t remember anything after lunging over the table at him.

“It isn’t real, Your Majesty. They’re not who you think; don’t listen to them.” When I lifted my head, light brown eyes met mine, visible through the tiny gap in her face covering. A woman. I’d never heard a novice speak before. She had whispered, and I was lucky I even heard her. She held my face in her hands as she stared at me. I tried to focus, but it wasn’t easy. “They’re giving you draíbea in the gruel. Only eat the bread.”

Draíbea in the gods damned food. I’d smelled it in the air, the cloying scent stinking up the room, and I’d smoked it countless times throughout my life. But I’d been taught at a young age the hallucinogenic wasn’t pleasant or safe to ingest. Though, if it helped me get through this, kept me from thinking, was it truly that bad?

It didn’t matter; I didn’t think I could eat.

“Look at me, Rainier. You need to listen. Are you listening?” I felt my head nod, moving despite myself. “Don’t eat the gruel. Push it around on your plate, but don’t eat it. I can’t do anything about what they burn, but do not eat it. It will help you stay lucid, so you’ll know what’s real.” She tapped her hand against my cheek, and I blinked. My motions were slow as she shoved the bread into my hand, and I nearly dropped it.

“Eat the bread, not the gruel.” The words were difficult to push past my lips, as if they didn’t want to move. The woman nodded, shushing me and patting my cheek again.

“Good, yes. You heard me.” She repeated her instructions as she slid a sling over my shoulder, her touch delicate. I didn’t know why she bothered; I was too numb for it to hurt. “My name is Nor, and you can trust me.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, Nor.” I chewed the bread in my mouth, narrowly avoiding biting down on my tongue. My body didn’t want to cooperate. It was just as well; I surely looked insane talking to myself.

“You have little choice, do you? If you want to risk it and eat the gruel, it would be a stupid decision, but it’s yours to make.” The woman narrowed her eyes at me, her dark brows furrowing. “Now, don’t forget to move the food around on your plate, or they’ll send someone in here to force feed you—and it might not be me.”

She left the room without another word. I belatedly noticed that while she wore the attire of a novice—the loose pleated pants and tunic—she didn’t have the robe, and the white fabric was stained. I finished my bread and moved the gruel around as she’d told me to, the draíbea in my system more than enough to keep me disoriented. I vowed then that if I were ever to get out of Darkhold, I’d never touch it again.

My cell door burst open moments later, and Declan stood on the other side with his arms crossed. A man stepped past him through the door, carrying something in his arms. Not something—someone.

Em.

“What happened? Is she alright?” I was frantic, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate as I struggled to stand. Her head was lolling over his arm, and I saw a large bruise at her temple. “Answer me, gods damn it!” Declan merely watched me as the man laid her down on the ground. I had barely made it to my knees, and I tried to calm my breathing so I could really look at her, track the rise and fall of her chest.

“Good morning, Rainy. I’ve received news from my spies. Bad news. Do you know what that might be?” I shook my head as I watched her. She was breathing, thank the gods. “It involves this bitch on the ground.”

I growled as I looked up at him. “Don’t fucking call her that. What did you do to her?” I tried once more to stand, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. I slammed into the wall beside me, tweaking my shoulder painfully.

“Nothing too awful, as of yet. Your whore wife doesn’t want to hand over my little brother. Care to tell me why?”

Of course she didn’t. He was just a boy. If she were here, did that mean she’d hidden him? My nose stung; I was so gods damned proud of her. She was so strong. And she needed me to be strong. I couldn’t tell Declan the truth of it. That his brother had worked to betray him.

“How would I know?” It was the wrong response. Declan took a step toward her and slammed his boot down on her hand. Though she didn’t wake, she whimpered, and a frown formed on her face. I roared, diving across the floor to get to her. I didn’t make it far before the ogre had me in his grasp. “Fucker! Get away from her!”

“Rainier, lad, I want you to think very, very hard. Why would your wife refuse to trade my brother for you?” He pulled Emma up by the hair. Her eyes were fluttering as if she were about to wake up.

“I don’t know! You’ve kept me stuck here. I don’t know why she would refuse.” I couldn’t betray the boy, not after he helped us. Even if Elora died.

How was Emma here? She’d been with me before, through the pain, but I was confused. Why was she even here? Had she come for me? And now, she was on the ground—broken and unconscious. It made no sense.

“Mmm, I think you’re lying. I think you do know. And I’m going to make you watch while I beat her until you tell me the truth.” And with that, he pushed her down so her body bent in half.

He ripped the back of her dress, exposing soft, perfect skin, and I launched myself at him, doing my damnedest to fight against the grip of the monster who held my arms behind my back.

“Me,” I grunted, half-mad with rage. “Not her. Never her.”

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