Page 16 of Owned By the Fae
Still, Grith was not well-liked and, as far as anyone knows, I'd have no reason to hurt him. Even as I think it, I realize that I don't care if they catch me. The beast and I both feel the same about that. Grith will never hurt Lia again. Death would be a small price to pay for ensuring it.
Chapter Three
Lia
There's no light at all. The only sound I can hear is a persistent, far-away dripping. I think I'm the only one down here. My cell is about the length of my body, but the alcove’s ceiling is low. I can't stand up in it. I know there’ll be a bucket in one corner, though I can’t see it. I’m well acquainted with this tiny space from the last time I was locked down here.
He’s had me put in the same one as before. Varrik’s sense of humor.
I don't know how long it's been, but I’m guessing at least a few hours. When I woke up and remembered, it took everything in me not to start screaming. The only reason I didn't is because I know that all it will do is make me thirsty, and there won’t be any water for me for days.
I try to feel for the darkness inside me, taking an odd sort of comfort in the fact that I’m not completely alone down here when I feel it there again. It’s not gone. The irony isn't lost on me that outside of this place, I hate noticing it. But inside this pitch-black cell, it brings me some measure of solace even though Varrik’s conjure must be different this time because I can’t release it. His binding has done the job it hadn’t been able to since before I ran. He found a way to subdue the Harbinger.
With a sniffle and feeling very alone, I curl up and close my eyes. It’s best. Otherwise, they start playing tricks on me in the dark, and I think I can see things that aren't there. Though hallucinations are the least of my worries, I suppose. If I want to survive this place for a second time, I need to find a way to be stronger than I have been.
‘Are you there?’ I ask out loud. ‘Can you talk?’
It doesn't say anything back. I don't know why I thought it would. It's never spoken before. Not in words.
But as I delve deeper into myself, to the place it resides. I get the strangest feeling that it'supset.
‘It's just the binding,’ I say, though I’m not sure why I care if it’s antsy or not when I never have before.
Why am I speaking to it, trying to pacify it? I shake my head in the dark again. The sad fact is that the Harbinger is all I have.
A tear drips down my cheek, and I wipe it away. I shouldn't be wasting the water. I won't get anything down here except for what I can forage in my cell. Nothing. Varrik may not want me dead, but he never was good at understanding that humans and fae are not the same and that my body could endure a lot less punishment than his Skilled.
Last time, I only survived because one of his guards got drunk and left my cell unlocked. That was when I burned his keep. But his guards are different now. Not only are there more of them, but they seem more disciplined and organized than they were before. I can’t count on the same thing happening again. If he leaves me down here for any longer than he did last time, I won't be coming back up alive.
I feel as if the Harbinger is listening to my thoughts. It’s as if it's looking over my shoulder, but when I reach out toward it, it's not there. Is it playing games with me?
‘Now isn’t the time, you know.’
I lay down, stretching my cramping body out on the dirty floor of my tiny cell. The chill seeps into me, but that won't kill me. It's not cold enough for that down here. I hear a far-off door, and my breath hitches as memories overtake me. At least I know what's going to happen. I didn’t have that luxury last time.
I hear footsteps shuffling down the steps, and I know someone's close.
Even though I anticipate it, the pain catches me off-guard, and I scream as my body erupts with it. My back bows, and my limbs shake in agony. I’m glad I was already lying down so I don’t hurt myself even more as I lose the ability to control myself. It stops only to start up a few seconds later. Again and again, the figure in the dark conjures pain. The sensation of fire licks across my skin, burrowing deep inside me so far down that I think even the Harbinger feels it.
And then I feel nothing at all, as if my mind has been encased in a room of thick walls. I hear a voice inside my head.
‘I’ll take the pain for you, my friend.’
I continue to scream, but it's not me who's making the sounds anymore. It's the Harbinger, and I don't understand what's happening.
When I wake,the pain is gone, and so is the one who was inflicting it. I wonder if it was Varrik himself or if he sent one of his elites to do his dirty work for him. It's hard to tell with him sometimes.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
It’s all I can manage, and I get the impression that the Harbinger is glad that I'm speaking to it.
I try to move off the ground a little. I'm cold now. My skin is wet and damp with sweat and probably my own piss, and I lament the loss of the fluids that I’ll need later.
I sit in the back of the cell, closing my eyes and leaning heavily against the corner wall so that I don’t fall over.
The lake isthe color of tar. I'm on a small boat in the middle of it, but when I look over the side, it's not water but a thick, viscous, honey-like substance. I don't touch it. Something inside me knows not to. The surface is smooth as a mirror’s, but when I peer into it, I can't see myself. It's too dark. There's no sheen or light coming from it, as if any light that hits it is simply sucked in. All around me is black as well. I can’t see the shore, and a dark, smoky vapor comes off the top of the lake itself. It reminds me of when Grey was shifted. That same black smoke came off him, too. I grimace, not wanting to think of him ...them.
There's a disturbance in front of the boat. A ripple. I give a start as a black-coated hand reaches out of the liquid, grabbing hold of the side of my boat. I scream, afraid that it's going to tip me in. But it doesn't. Instead, it clambers in with me. Its form is loosely that of a human or a fae, but I can’t tell any more than that.
