“I will even put in a word for you,” he went on. “They say that for certain offenders they sink cells to the sea floor. The salt takes the moisture from your body. At first, it’s said to leave you desperately thirsty, then dries your flesh until you are little more than a husk.”
He leaned forward and pressed his boot down harder.
Caius’s face twisted. A guttural groan tore from his throat. Reagan wondered if it was more from the pain or from the thought of that place. He would already be a mess to mend before taking to court.
“Hush,” Reagan whispered. “I want to share what I know, so you’re prepared. They say down there no one hears your screams. Once the barnacles take hold of your arms and legs, they itch until you try to tear your own skin off. Each one grows for some foul thing you did to someone else. I think it’s supposed to be a lesson. You know how creative they are.” He exhaled like he was relaxed. “And in that silence…Curses, it must drive you mad.”
Caius’s colour drained. Every trace of defiance was gone.
Reagan bent and tapped his cheek twice. “Yes. That’s a much better punishment.”
Chapter 13
Jane
As we trudged across the rubber mat, I hadn’t expected to find so many tutors waiting.
Five figures stood gathered, Cerridwen among them. She was speaking when we entered, her voice tapering off as she spun towards us. Her charcoal skirt fell in a line to her ankles, her blazer traced with pale runes almost too faint to see. White hair was coiled neatly atop her head.
“You’re here. Please, join us,” she greeted. “I have the pleasure of introducing you to a body of tutors who hold some of the most prestigious reputation in Mountheim, if not the whole country.”
“Speaking as someone from Vaelon, I can confirm that the whole country is correct,” said a man with bronze-gold skin, his smile flashing two white rows of teeth as he looked us over.
“The most prestigious, perhaps, but not the humblest,” said a petite woman with almond eyes the colour of an evening sky, wearing moss-green robes, the hem pooling around her shoes.
“Humility was never Kellan’s strongest suit,” Cerridwen said dryly, casting the man a look that told me they knew each other.
He fixed his gaze on me, dipping his head in a gesture that was, to my hidden startle, almost a bow.
“Kellan Barasa, pleased to meet the woman the Mage Lord spoke so highly about,” Kellan said, his tone warm, his silver goatee moving with his smile.
“Jane Darling. The pleasure’s mine,” I replied. “And Caedmon exaggerates.”
Their expressions shifted as though I’d said something unexpected. It dawned on me again that most people didn’t call him by his given name.
Their attention shifted to Joy, who remained still.
Kellan seemed to delight in her reluctance, his grin widening. “I’m a Potions and Alchemy Master, and your new tutor in the foundations of magecraft. I’ve heard remarkable things about you, Miss Darling.”
Joy’s eyes flicked up, curious but guarded.
“Potions Master? Like Cerridwen?” I asked.
“Yes, yes,” Cerridwen said, amusement tugging faintly at her mouth. “Kellan and I taught together once.”
“Once for you, dear,” he said, shooting her a sidelong glance. “I’m still shaping the future generations. You left me for politics, and I’m still wounded.”
When I turned to her, Cerridwen only shrugged, but she might have been amused. “I needed new challenges.”
“And a higher wage,” said the woman beside her, a few wrinkles softening her bronze skin, a purple-and-gold head scarf wound elegantly around her head, hiding any trace of hair. Her tone was as measured as her gaze.
“Seraphyn Evenwood,” Cerridwen introduced her. “Master of the spellcraft arts.”
Seraphyn’s steady gaze flicked from Joy to me. Her face betrayed nothing, so still she reminded me of Malory. “I wassummoned by the Mage Lord to oversee your instruction and formation as Mage Lady.”
Her voice carried the poise of someone prideful, her eyes sweeping me from head to toe.
“Pleasure,” I managed, shifting my attention to the next tutor. The petite woman.
