All my promises to myself that I’d never act like a slave again are forgotten in the face of his master-like behaviors and I find my eyes on the floor, my shoulders hunched as I wait for barbed words and hard fists.
I don’t have to wait long.
He hauls me up by my hair, and pulls my face close to his before striking me hard in the stomach.
Winded, I fall to the ground, curling into a ball as I gasp, trying to get back my breath.
I hear something bang and he curses again.
‘I can do this as long as it takes,’ he snarls. ‘I have enough healing potions for hours. How much more of a beating will your pathetic body endure before you break and tell me anyway?’
I squeal as his heavy boot crunches down on my chest.
‘No one can hear anything from this room,’ he reminds me. ‘No one will come to save you.’
‘You can’t do this,’ I snarl in agony. ‘They’ll know you’ve beaten me!’
He bends down and laughs in my face.
‘They won’t,’ he promises darkly. ‘And if they somehow did, how many would give a fuck about some Dark Realm whore?’
My vision swims as his hand winds into my tunic and he draws me up, his fist winding up to hit me straight across my cheek.
I try not to cower, but he’s right. He can do this for as long as it takes if he has potions to heal himself. I can’t. If he kills me in here, it doesn’t matter how outraged Locke and the othersmightbe. I’ll still be dead.
Or, I could be alive, and I could be given a place here even though they think I’m Dark Realm. Locke said it himself. The Underhill would use me if they know what I am.
I’m alone, both in here and out there. I was right. Only I can help me.
Perhaps there’s a deal here somewhere.
‘I’m Fate Touched!’ I spit at him, lowering my eyes and pretending he’s beaten it out of me.
He lets me fall hard to the stone floor with a harsh laugh.
‘A human Kismet. And they say Fate has no sense of humor.’
I stay where I fall, my hand covering my ribs where he stamped on me. They’re broken, I know. But I just spent months in the pits. I fought with worse injuries than this. Fuck him if he thinks I’m broken. Arrogant fae. I’m nowhere near. Him. This room. They have nothing on the training pits, the nighttime paddock.
‘You weren’t meant to beat me so badly,’ I wheeze. ‘They’ll see this wasn’t simply a talk.’
He pulls me up by my tunic, ignoring my pained cry. ‘As I said, none of them will notice anything amiss,’ he says with a cold grin.
‘Because you’re a conjurer,’ I guess.
I can tell I’ve surprised him.
‘Clever little bitch, aren’t you?’ he snarls, and, with that, he raises his hand and slaps me hard with the back of it across my face.
My head snaps to the side with the force of it, and I’m placed back in the chair, knocked half-senseless, my body slumping to the side.
‘Yes, I am a conjurer and I’m very good at hiding things I don’t want anyone to see. One might say it’s myskill.’
He chuckles like he’s made a joke, but I don’t understand it.
I vaguely hear the clink of glass and then, he’s slapping my cheek to bring me ’round. Whatever injuries were meted out to him by Fate for his actions are healed.
He waves a hand over me and smirks. ‘Don’t bother telling anyone. Locke, Jak, and that half-orc cunt can do nothing to me. The rest won’t believe a devious Dark Realmer like you, or they already know what I do. That you deserve it.’
