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“Peter was my cousin.” Beast. Show yourself. Come now. Make them kill themselves.
“I see. So your name is?”
Mara looked into Rupert’s eyes. “Mara.”
“Well… I…” Rupert went pale. Something metal clanged on stone behind him, and he spun to Julias. “Why are you so clumsy? You blasted oaf,” he shouted.
“Sorry, Rupert… sir.” Julias cowered away.
Rupert bent down and picked up a shiny piece of metal and shook it at Julias. “These are worth more than your entire family. One of a kind. You break these, and you’ll be the one on the table. Mark my words.” Rupert turned back to Mara. “Sorry about that. Where were we? Ah, yes, your name. Not important.”
He’s not looking in my eyes. He felt it. He felt my power. Mara reached out to touch Rupert’s hand. Rupert flinched away and sliced at Mara’s hand with the sharp piece of metal. Mara pulled his hand back and squeezed it into a fist, blood dripping fast onto the table.
“Bloody hell. Julias, wrap that up. He’ll bleed out before we even begin,” Rupert said.
“Yes, Rupert… sir.” Julias scurried forward, a dirty bandage in his leather-gloved hands.
“Julias,” Mara whispered.
“Don’t you look at him, Julias,” Rupert said. “You are not to look in this boy’s eyes. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Rupert… sir.” Julias wrapped the bandage tight around Mara’s hand.
“Thank you, Julias,” Mara said. “That feels better.” Look at me.
Julias looked side to side, moving his lips without talking.
“Back to your table, Julias,” Rupert said, stepping forward and gripping Mara’s neck with one – now gloved – hand. “That’s enough of that, you.”
Mara croaked, unable to breathe. He smiled. You are scared. You should be scared. He shook at the chains and snarled.
“I don’t like it, Rupert… sir,” Julias shouted.
Rupert turned, still squeezing Mara’s throat. “Well, fuck off then. Leave now. I do not wish to see you again. Assistants are easily found,” he shouted.
Julias hurried out of the room, slamming the gate behind him.
Rupert let go of Mara and turned his back. “For god’s sake. Fucking imbecile.” He picked up his bag and stuffed what sounded like more bits of metal into it. Then stormed to the gate. “I’ll be back for you, boy, and it will not be pretty. You will suffer, answers, or no answers, you will suffer,” he shouted.
Later, as the light from the window faded once again. Mara heard the click, clack of footsteps, along with the clink of metal armour. A guard? And someone else? Someone smaller. He looked to the gate.
A boy appeared at the gate, no older than Mara. He wore red silky clothes and a hat. Plump but not fat, with chubby cheeks that were slightly red. Brown hair stuck out from under his hat. He shook the gate, then turned to the guard behind him. “Open the gate.”
“I am afraid not, your highness. It would be too dangerous,” the guard said.
“But he’s chained up. I want to see him up close.”
“Your father forbids it, your highness.”
The boy turned back to look at Mara, hands poking through the squares of the gate. “You there, are you the murderer of Lord Mansell?”
Mara imagined the boy killing the guard, then slitting his own throat. “Yes.”
“Nobody cares Lord Mansell is dead, but they are going to hang you anyway and quarter you. For treason. You will be my first. I’m glad you killed Lord Mansell. Father doesn’t normally let me go to the hangings.” The boy turned to the guard. “Are you sure we can’t go in? He doesn’t look very dangerous. I want to poke him in the eye.”
The guard laughed. “As much as I’d like to see that, your highness. It is not allowed.”
Let him in. I’ll bite his finger off. Mara screamed, shook the chains, and spat toward the gate.
