Page 56 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“Where is…”
“…not…we didn’t…”
“…the sun-kissed…tell me…”
“Not us…I swear…haven’t…her…”
Ice shot through her. Her stomach lurched and she dug her fingernails into her skin to keep from heaving. But she forced her feet to continue forward to find the room with the poor man who begged for mercy.
And there he was, also upside down. Blood running down his naked body.
A guard stood in front of him with a long blade in his hand. He pressed it to the man’s genitals. “Last time. Tell me where the sun-kissed is. What did your people do to her?”
“Nothing. We did nothing! We haven’t seen her! Check with the deacons! We heard rumors the deacons caught her on level fifty-one. Please, I’m telling the truth.”
“I believe you,” the guard said.
The victim relaxed.
“But the Water Prince is very upset that his sun- kissed is missing.” The guard twisted his wrist. Blood splashed.
“Nooo!”
Horrified, Shyla covered her face with both her hands, stifling sobs. Tears flowed down her cheeks and her nose filled with mucus, making it hard to breathe. She gasped, pulling air through her fingers to muffle her panting. They were looking for her. He was torturing that poor man because of her. She had to find Rendor. Had to stop this.
She straightened and backed away a couple steps. Then bright red liquid poured from the grate she had just stood under. It splashed into the black river and a terrible realization seized her. She stumbled over to one of the shafts of light and held the vial up.
The liquid inside was a blackish red. Her fingers numbed and she almost dropped the vial. She staggered away from the river of blood—new mixed with old.
Who could…
That meant…
All her fault…
A weakness flowed through her. Unable to stand, she knelt on the ground as the walls spun around her. Bending forward, she pressed her forehead to the cold stone. More people would be tortured unless she let the prince know she was alive. That was all that mattered at this moment.
By sheer force of will, Shyla steadied her breathing. Then she pushed to her feet and raced to the stairwell. Going up the steps at a fast rate required coordination—something that she lacked due to little sleep and sustenance, which resulted in banging her shins and tripping often, slamming down on her hands. When she reached the large gap, she took a quick break—just long enough to drink a couple gulps of water and eat a stick of jerky. Otherwise, she’d never have the strength to climb the post while carrying the extra weight of her pack and the druk that remained tied to the strap.
Finished eating, she repacked and slung her pack over her neck. She mapped out a route, searching for hand and foot holds on the post. Then she began climbing. Slow didn’t even come close to describing her pace. Sand dunes built faster than it took her to reach the top.
By the time she neared the steps, sweat stung her eyes, her arm and leg muscles trembled, and her fingertips bled. As she transferred her weight from the post to safety, her right foot slipped. She dove to the side, clinging to the bottom step with her legs dangling in the gap and her heart slamming in her chest. Worming her way further, she pulled the rest of her body up on the steps. Relieved, Shyla lay there for a moment. A warm wetness spread on her right thigh. She had probably ripped the stitches, but it ranked pretty low on the list of things to worry about. Once she recovered, she continued up the stairwell to level seventy-eight.
Shyla leaned against the tunnel’s wall to catch her breath. A boot scuffed on the floor nearby. Turning to deflect an attack, she paused then dropped her arms. Jayden stood just on the edge of her druk’s light. His expression was guarded. He knew what she’d seen down under the Water Prince’s special rooms.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
“I thought you knew.”
Shyla rounded on him. “Why would you think that?”
“’Cause you called it the black river.”
Did she really need to explain what black and river meant to this man? “So?”
“So, it’s a code or a shorthand, however you want to describe it.”
“For what?”
