Page 50 of Whispers of the Elderoak

Ava whimpered and tears streamed down her face. The guard pulled back and gave her a cunning smile when the flaps of the tent opened and Andras stepped in.

He paused, looking at the guard. “I told you to dispose of the useless prisoner. I did not give you permission to touch the new one. Get out,” he barked.

The guard rose and nodded to Andras then glanced at Ava one last time before leaving.

She looked to Remy, but he was still rocking in the corner, hiding himself from witnessing the death of his fellow captive.

“What do you want with me? Please send me back home,” she begged Andras through her tears.

He towered over her, placing his hands in his pockets. “We have plans for you.”

“What plans?”

He remained silent, looking at her with boredom.

“How long will I be here?” she asked.

He knelt, closing in on her. “As long as it takes, Ava dear. We’ll use whatever means necessary to get what we need.” He crept closer, watching her reaction. “It may take months. Until then, you’ll remain with us.”

No. She wouldn’t allow it.

“Henry…” Ava began, thinking maybe if she used his other name, his other identity. The man she had cared for… or thought she had. Maybe she could reach him. Maybe see reason.

Andras looked down at her, as he rose.

“Donotcall me that,” he bristled.

“I know you aren’t all bad, Henry,” she continued. “I saw it in you when we were together. You were kind, and loving and?—”

She was interrupted by a slap to the face. Adding to her previous injuries her body was becoming bruises upon bruises upon bruises. She reeled from the pain and realized there was no talking to him. No reasoning. She knew he wasn’t Henry, but she had to try one last time.

“You know nothing.”

He left the tent and she looked over at Remy and saw he had stopped rocking and was assessing her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wringing his hands.

“Yeah,” she lied.

“Ava?”

“Yes?” she whispered through the pain, head throbbing.

“How did you get to Eorhan?” he asked.

“Andras tricked me and used my blood to open a portal that led us here,” she said.

“Your blood… The portal. You have magic?”

Sighing, she answered, not wanting to face the truth. “I don’t have magic. I never have.”

“But it opened the door. Yes, it did. How?” he insisted.

So she told him the rest of her story; explained it all. That her grandfather and mother escaped into the human world before her birth, but she hadn’t known about any of it.

He listened intensely, eyes wide and when she finished, he said reverently, “You came back. You came back to help.”

“No, Remy. I made things worse by letting them in. I don’t have magic. I can’t do anything.” She shook her head.

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