Page 99 of Queen of War and Ruin

Zarek

DISAPPOINTMENT

“Idiot,” someone mutters above me.

A sound slips out of my mouth, a strangled moan, as I fight to open my eyes. My body feels like it’s being crushed, my arms and legs pressed to the ground. Am I back in the cart? Is Varitan waking me to demand I eat something?

No. I try to shake my head, but my body doesn’t respond. I can’t be in the cart. Something’s happened since then, hasn’t it? I remember a room, a long table. A window.

Or was that all a dream?

“Stop fighting me,” the voice growls.

Pain explodes inside my body. A scream rips out of my lips, and my eyes fly open.

Varitan snarls down at me. Sunlight streams through the room behind him, and his pale hair flutters in the wind.

Right. Broken glass. The creak of the door opening.

“You are a fool,” Varitan snaps.

I can’t argue with that. I try to raise my head, but my body won’t move. Varitan leans back, disappearing from my field of vision. Sunlight dances across the high ceiling of the room on the top floor of the Vsenrog palace. My beautiful prison.

My skin crawls with magical energy. I hold my breath, feeling for the source.

The silver chain. It’s still in my pocket, burning against my thigh. Varitan hasn’t taken it. Maybe he hasn’t noticed. I’ve seen anger cloud his judgement before, when I mentioned his son.

His face reappears, looming over me.

“What, exactly, were you hoping to accomplish with that little stunt?” he demands.

I swallow. The back of my throat still tastes bitter.

“Did you honestly think you could escape?” Varitan says, with a sharp little laugh. “Did you think you could fly? Like a bird?”

I don’t think he expects an answer. I stare at him as he shakes his head.

“Or were you looking for a more permanent escape? Is that it?”

He makes a sound like an explosion in his mouth, then vanishes from my vision once again. I turn my head to follow his movement, my muscles screaming in protest. Varitan paces in front of the broken window.

“I should hurt you,” he says. “The last time my pupil tried to escape, I⁠—”

“Cut out his eye,” I growl.

Varitan turns to me, scowling.

“Yes,” I continue. “I heard. You and your son have a difficult relationship, huh?”

The jab lands. His face screws up like he’s just bitten a lemon.

Good. I want to keep him angry, off balance. I want him to make a mistake.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask. “I’ve heard talking can help.”

Varitan turns away. My body tenses, expecting pain. But his head tilts back, and he laughs. My body feels cold. Laughter is somehow worse than an attack. Getting hit I can understand. But laughing?

“He had a smart mouth too,” Varitan finally says. “I should have cut out his tongue.”