Page 22 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
He thought about her a lot.
He pictured the rich tan of her skin and remembered how soft it was to touch. He tried to imagine whether her thick hair felt silky or coarse. He wondered if her scent, the soothing fragrance of lavender, would be stronger if he breathed it against her skin.
Every night, Harrow would sneak past the sleeping watchmen and bring Raith food and sweets and read more stories to him. His favorite was a tale of a terrible dragon who guarded a princess in a tower, slaughtering every man who came to rescue her and earn her hand in marriage. At the end of the tale, however, it was revealed that the princess and the dragon were actually the best of friends, and she thanked him daily for saving her from a loveless marriage.
Though Raith hadn’t found the courage to speak much, Harrow chatted away enough for both of them, telling him about her life at the circus, her friend Malaikah, and all the things they did together. She asked him questions about himself that he couldn’t answer, but she never pressed or seemed disappointed if he remained silent.
He lived for those late-night encounters, and during the day, he had caught himself forgetting to visualize killing Salizar, wondering instead what Harrow was doing at that moment. Was she reading fortunes for circus patrons? Spending time with Malaikah? He was desperate to understand her better but couldn’t quite bring himself to use his voice to inquire.
Salizar dismissed Loren from the tent and approached Raith. “Tonight’s show is beginning shortly, but before I go, you and I are going to have a chat.”
A week ago, Raith would have already been on his feet, snarling at his captor. Now, he was just bored. He wasn’t scared of Salizar or his magic stick, and he was sick and tired of being in a cage.
He lifted a brow, not even bothering to stand.
“Two weeks remain of our time in Allegra. For the final week, your sideshow will be open to the public. People will be admitted to your tent to glimpse the wraith. There are two things I need from you to complete our performance.”
Raith just looked at him blandly.
“If you perform without complaint, it will be painless. If you do not, I will force you. It makes no difference to me which you choose, and I daresay, a good fight will make things more entertaining. As part of the performance, I expect you to show off your wings and wraith skin.”
Raith’s lip curled. Over his dead body. Or, at least, unconscious body—which was probably exactly what was going to happen.
Salizar smiled thinly like he knew it, too. “If you don’t perform willingly, as I said, I will force you. Your wings come out when I prod you in the back”—he brandished the staff—“and your appearance reverts when you’re unconscious. Easy enough to arrange.”
He began to stroll back and forth across the tent. “This is how it’ll work. When the time comes, you will shed your disguise and show the humans your true wraith form. I’ll give you a chance to do it voluntarily. If you don’t, I will take measures to make it happen.”
A growl started low in Raith’s throat, hatred boiling his blood like lava.
“It will be humiliating for you. Even more humiliating than choosing to cooperate.”
Raith’s relaxed posture became rigid. Slowly, he shifted forward until he was crouched in attack position.
Salizar’s eyes shone with equal loathing as he took a bold step closer. “Oh, I know how much you hate me. Know that I hate you in equal measure. You might think I’m the villain here, but you’re forgetting the most important thing.” He took another step. “I know what you are.”
Raith growled louder, lip curling off his teeth.
“You’re a vile creature, responsible for the worst massacre in known history. And what’s to stop you from doing it again? If Furie gets an itch, you’ll be doing her bidding in a heartbeat.”
The growl died in Raith’s throat. Salizar really believed he was one of these wraiths. If they truly were responsible for a genocide, no wonder Harrow hated them. He hoped he wasn’t one.
“And now, for the first time, a wraith has been captured. Trapped in his physical body. Vulnerable to attack. But eliminating you isn’t my place. I’m simply the deliveryman.”
Salizar stepped back abruptly, staff at ease by his side. “Can you blame me for capitalizing off it in the meantime? If I’m going to expend such effort keeping you, I might as well make some money doing it. Money that will go toward providing for other Elementals who have lost their homes and the respect of humans because of Furie’s fucking war.”
He rapped the staff against the steel bars, and sparks shot out from the tip. “Fight me all you want, because I enjoy watching you suffer. I enjoy witnessing your pain, while still knowing it will never equal the pain your kind inflicted upon the Seers before you killed them all.”
He added in a low voice, “All but one.”
Raith barely understood what Salizar was accusing him of, but it seemed Salizar thought he did. There was no point explaining it or reasoning with him, and besides, with no memory of his past, Raith couldn’t guarantee he hadn’t done those things. The part about being trapped in a physical body seemed to fit, at least; he remembered the odd sense of confinement he’d felt upon first awakening in the desert.
Perhaps Salizar was right. If he truly was the monster described, he was better off in a cage.
Salizar circled the outside of the bars until he was within striking distance. Consumed by thoughts of guilt he wasn’t sure were his to shoulder, Raith didn’t move. What was wrong with him that he didn’t care to defend himself from the attack he knew was coming?
“This is for Harrow.”
What did Harrow have to do with it? He was too caught up in his confusion to move when Salizar stabbed the staff into the cage.
