Page 50 of Blood Weaver
“You don’t know anything,” he croaked.
I shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know one thing: she would be so disappointed in the way you are right now. Torturing an innocent person just to get back at your enemy. Torturing a person who has helped you multiple times. If you weren’t a prince, I’d have pegged you for one of the bandits running around the Central Plains.”
“I’m nothing like them!” he growled. In a flash, he leaned down, rested his hands on my shackled arms that rested on the torture chair, and shoved his sneering face in front of mine. “I am a prince!” he yelled, as if trying to convince me of the validity of his birthright.
I scoffed and met his eyes unflinchingly. “You could have fooled me. You seem more like a tyrant.”
Caelan’s glare was murderous now. Staring me down far longer than I cared for, he finally pushed himself up and took a step back. “Guards!” he yelled, his eyes never leaving mine. The same two guards who strapped me to the chair marchedto his side with a smart salute. “Take her back to her cell,” he commanded. Spearing me with one last disgusted look, he spun on his heels and marched out of the room, his boots rapping sharply on the flagstone tiles.
I could only think, was his disgusted look at me, or at himself.
The guards dumpedme back in my cell with new wounds to care for, but I didn’t have the energy to heal myself. The damp dungeon made it hard to breathe, pushing my already strained lungs to the breaking point. When a rat scurried past my foot and brushed my toes with its long, pink tail, I didn’t even have the energy to be disgusted.
I was weak and frail, the product of malnutrition and exhaustion, and desperately needed a healer or access to the medicine back at my clinic. Unfortunately, neither was an option.
Selene was under house arrest, Ronan was dealing with his army on the other side of the Central Plains, and poor little Henry was in my clinic without any way to help me. I was truly on my own.
Unable to hold my body up, I slumped to the side and hunched over in the fetal position. With my arms loosely wrapped around my stomach, I closed my eyes and prayed for a quick death.
16
My prayer for a quick death was not answered.
The days passed in a blur until I had no idea how long I’d been there or if it was day or night. Caelan no longer visited me, but his guards did. And each time they came to visit they got more creative with their torturing methods, and they seemed to take great delight in pushing me to the edge. Unfortunately, their patience wore thin because I didn’t give them what they needed—which was either Ronan’s exact location or his plans. It was all for naught, as I truly didn’t know anything. This was why Ronan and Silas were so careful not to discuss anything in front of me, although Caelan obviously didn’t buy that.
I had just been returned to my cell after a particularly brutal interrogation. Crawling across the mildewed straw that littered the floor to a bowl of filthy water, I grimaced and poured it out, then clinked the bowl against the steel and croaked out, “More … water … please.” My voice was rusty and hoarse. Lately, the only sounds I’d made were my screams.
After several minutes, a guard marched to the cell bars and kicked the bowl out of my hands with a hearty laugh. “Don’t beso greedy!” he smirked. “You’ve had more than enough water to—”
But the man never finished his sentence, because someone crept up behind him and snapped his neck in one smooth movement. I was in too much pain to fear the newcomer. Instead, I prayed my end would be as swift. When the guard’s body slid to the floor in a lifeless heap, I looked up and met Silas’s crimson gaze.
He gave a lopsided grin. “We can’t leave you alone for two seconds before you find trouble, Leila.”
I chuckled. “Nice seeing you, too.”
With a shake of his head, Silas leaned down and patted the guard’s body for the keys to my cell. Once he found them, he shoved the body to the side and opened the door. With a gentleness that surprised me, Silas reached down and lifted my body into his arms. “Come on, Leila. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
Like Ronan, Silas had long, dark hair that was braided at the sides of his head. His arms and body were covered in crimson tattoos that told his story, and he shared the same deep-set crimson eyes. Whereas Ronan had a more rugged look, boyish charm resonated from Silas. I could tell he was younger than Ronan, but I didn’t know by how much.
My chest lightened with each step Silas took with me out of the dungeon. I lacked the strength to hold my head up, but I saw the ground littered with dead guards. When we left the stagnant cells behind and stepped outside, a small group of Crimson Clan members were waiting.
I inhaled the fresh air deeply into my lungs, feeling better than I had since this nightmare began. “Where’s Ronan?”
“He’s with the army … preparing,” Silas answered cryptically. Even though he was saving me, it was undoubtedly under Ronan’s orders. Silas didn’t trust me much.
We soon left the horrors of the prison dungeon behind and stepped onto Lomewood’s eerily quiet streets. It was dusk and the sun sank into the horizon, painting the sky with vivid streaks of orange and pink. Shopkeepers along the route took one look at our ragtag group and closed their doors immediately to hide from the dangerous Crimson Clan.
Henry was waiting outside the prison gates. The moment he saw me, his eyes widened in shock. “Miss Leila!” he exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
I attempted to nod. “I’m fine, Henry. Why … why are you here?” Without slowing so Henry’s little legs could keep up, Silas continued walking down the street flanked by his clan members.
“I heard you were arrested!” he said quickly as he followed slightly behind Silas. “I searched for Ronan and found him in—” Silas cleared his throat and sent the young boy a glare, a not-so subtle hint to keep his mouth shut. “Sorry,” Henry mumbled.
“Ronan was very upset to learn that you’d not only been captured, but also injured,” Silas chastised. “He’s waiting for you with a healer back at camp.”
With those reassuring words, I rested my weary head on Silas’s shoulder and closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly.
When my eyes fluttered open,I was lying in an unfamiliar tent. The gentle glow of candles cast warm light to chase away the shadows, and a furnace hummed softly, assuring the night would be wrapped in warmth. Confusion, followed by the recollection of preceding events, slowly crawled into my awakening consciousness.
