Page 23 of Owned By the Fae
‘There were times when I yearned for this,’ it admits as it reciprocates, its arm snaking around my lower back.
‘When I kept you in the dark?’
It nods, and we sit in silence.
‘Can I trust you?’ I ask.
It doesn’t answer.
When I wakein my cold cell, I know my fingers are broken, and at least one of my wrists is as well. Everything hurts. I shift,and my teeth clench as more pain courses through me. Several of my ribs are broken, too, I think.
Jak comes sometime later for the first time in days. He brings water and drops it slowly past my cracked lips when the guard isn’t looking. I can’t see his face. He doesn’t heal me. I know he can’t, but that doesn’t stop me from silently begging him to help me … even if it’s to quietly smother me with a hand over my nose and mouth.
My hand drifts to his as he kneels beside me and brushes against his skin. It’s all I can manage. He looks torn. Devastated. He glances over his shoulder at the guard who’s leaning against the wall, watching us closely.
‘Fuck,’ Jak snarls, looking through the small bag he brought. ‘I must have dropped it.’
‘What?’ the guard says.
‘A small knife I use to cut herbs. It must be on the steps, but you should find it so we can make sure she’s not got it and hidden it somewhere.’
The guard pushes himself off the wall, mumbling something about feckless healers, and stomps off down the hall.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jak breathes. ‘They wouldn’t let me come. I told Varrik how bad it was.’
My dry lip curls with a small smile that he believed Varrik would listen to him, and I feel the skin tear.
‘I thought he’d … They’ve beaten you since I was here last.’ He lets out a sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again.
He puts his hand on my forehead, and the pain dulls enough that I can finally take a full breath as the biggest of my broken bones knit back together.
I let out a tiny sigh.
‘Best I can do for now,’ he whispers against my ear as he rises.
‘Why are you helping me?’ I rasp. ‘If anyone finds out …’
‘Because I’m a healer, and I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. This is wrong.’
‘No more,’ I say as I close my eyes. ‘Don’t come back.’
He kneels beside me again, looking upset. ‘If I don’t, you’ll die down here.’
‘I know,’ I breathe. ‘It’s all right.’
The next timethe door opens, I'm hauled out, and I hardly have the faculties to make a noise even though every part of my body screams. I’m afraid it’ll be more punishment, and I hope I die soon. But they don’t take me into the torture room. I'm carried unceremoniously up the stairs over a guard’s hard shoulder instead.
What’s left of me after my stint in the dungeon is dropped in a heap on the floor at Varrik’s feet. A weak cry is forced out of me as I hit the stones. I see Rikoth in the corner, making a show of smirking, but I can tell that even he’s shocked by the state I’m in. I try to stand, but all I can do is rise to my knees and sway precariously.
‘Have you learned your lesson, my little human?’ Varrik asks, eyes moving over my injuries with the same show of polite interest he’d give to an inquiry about my day.
He snaps his fingers at Rikoth, and I watch as my bruises disappear. I can still feel the pain. They're still there. But Varrik can’t see them now. No one can.
‘There. That’s better,’ he says with a smile as he stands in front of me.
He draws me to my feet, and a cloak is put around my bare shoulders. I stare past him, belatedly seeing a small child playing under his desk with tiny wooden soldiers, a little fae boy no morethan three or four. He’s dressed in a green tunic with rabbits embroidered on the front pockets and has blond hair that’s a bit too long and flops over his forehead.
My heart sinks.
