Page 21 of A Bond of Ice and Glass
The tension thickens, hanging over us like a blade about to drop. Why can’t Lochlan just trust me? I’ve never doubted him, not once, but he always seems to doubt me. Does he truly think I’m that weak?
“Just trust me, Loch. I trust you.”
He gives in with a nod, but the slight hesitation when he turns betrays his doubt. His doubt just makes me want to prove him wrong even more.
He turns on his heel and nods to a guard. The rusted iron gate slowly creaks open. Lochlan steps through first, followed by Noble, who winks at me in passing. He’s so different from his brother. The way they carry themselves, you’d think Noble was the bastard-born. Even the guards snap to Lochlan’s orders. They unlock several gates until we reach the far end of the prison.
The light grows less and less with every step. The moans and chains scrape even louder. My stomach turns. I focus on breathing through my mouth and doing arithmetic in my head as a distraction. Anything to avoid the clawed hands that reach through the bars for help.
The smell I can just about ignore.
It’s the sound of suffering I can’t drown out.
Not like Nymala, who hums beside me, or the brothers, who speak low and casually to each other.
As if we’re anywhere but here.
They must come often. Probably immune to the smell. I don’t think I could ever get used to this. Even my parents’ dungeon had been more humane. The one time I visited.
I glance at the guards patrolling the cells. All heavily armoured, faces obscured behind spiked black helmets. Their weapons gleam in what little light there is. The air, despite the space, is still thick. Still rancid.
As we pass the final cells, one of the guards scrapes his spear along the bars and barks a warning at the inmates. He kicks through the bars and strikes something. A clawed hand pulls back. A woman inside screams. I freeze.
Begging. Screaming. Pleading for mercy.
Nobody ever listened to me either. In fact, the sisters enjoyed it, so I stayed quiet in the end. The woman behind the bars wails, and I jump.
“We’re almost there,” Lochlan says, gently touching my arm. “You sure you still want to do this?”
I nod. He studies me for a moment, then nods back. He takes my hand and leads me forward, down a corridor where the light thins to nothing. We step into a wide-open chamber with two cells at the end, flanked by guards on either side. The only light comes from the lanterns beside the doors and the torch in Lochlan’s hand. Its soft glow catches on the iron bars. And the pair of shackled hands that grip them.
“These ones are the worst,” Lochlan murmurs. “They led the attack on the Wyrmfrost Mountains. Burned the temples to the ground. Left no survivors.”
I swallow the bile clawing its way up my throat.
“They know where Erax next plans to attack,” Noble adds, walking beside me. “But none of them will speak. We’ve tried everything.”
“Not everything,” Lochlan counters. His eyes flash to me, and the side of his mouth tugs in a smile. “Don’t worry. We just need you to help loosen their tongues. I’ll handle the rest.”
I nod, but inside, my heart drops. Erax’s cruelty will never cease to horrify me. And I’mmarriedto him. It still feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare.
Lochlan stops outside the chamber and lets go of my hand. I instinctively wrap my hands around myself, gripping tightly until I can feel my nails digging into my arms. What if I can’t use my power the way they need me to? I don’t even know how I came to have this power let alone harness it.
Ignoring the smell of rot and faeces, I peer into the cell. Six warriors are slumped against the farthest wall. Another rocks in the corner, while the one who grips the bars remains standing,his pale, gaunt face half-hidden in shadows. All their black and gold uniforms are tattered and their eyes deeply hollow. The one in the corner lifts his head at the sound of our arrival. His face is so badly beaten he looks more like a beast than man. He clutches his ribs, whimpering as he resumes his rocking. They all look so broken, and yet…
“I thought they’d look more?—”
“Like monsters?” Noble offers, moving beside me. “Not every monster has claws and fangs. Sometimes they just need orders and no conscience.”
A guard whacks the hands on the bars. The soldier yanks them back and drops to the floor, cowering from the gate.
“You,” Lochlan calls out to him. “What’s your name?”
The man lifts his chin but doesn’t answer.
“Aren’t you fed up in here?” Lochlan crouches by the bars, his tone of voice the same he used to comfort me. But his words are far from comforting. “Don’t you want to be free of this suffering?”
Something flickers in the man’s empty eyes. Hope, maybe?
