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Win what? And what’s their move? Is it letting the monsters in?
My chest constricts. This situation is bad. I know it is.
“I smell meat,” says one of them. Also not Alwar. “Be quiet. The human is near.”
I wince. They know I’m here, but they can’t know I overheard their conversation.
I tiptoe back down the hallway and return with heavy steps. “Hey! I have your food!” I yell and unlock the door. I pick up the tray and push on the door with my foot. Where before there was nothing on the canvas but a dark stormy sky, there are now three warriors in their loincloths. Their large arms are shackled with chains.
My eyes follow the links attached to Alwar. The chains don’t actually go anywhere, now that I’m paying attention. They run off the canvas to some unknown location.
So did someone cut their chains? Who? Why?
All I know is that my blood pressure is through the damned roof. My heart is beating so fast I can hardly breathe. The tray and dishes in my hands rattle from nerves. Stop. They’ll be suspicious.
“I’m sorry for the food,” I say, my voice as shaky as the rest of me. “I never learned how to cook. Not like Bard, anyway. But I don’t-don’t want to break the treaty.” None of this is true. It’s the only excuse I can think of to mask my true fears.
“You didn’t burn the meat,” says Alwar, sounding displeased.
“She used onions,” says the one with the regal face and long dark hair. Tiago.
They eat their meat burnt?
I carefully step over the bed of crystals, managing to keep the tray from tipping over. I think my arms are going numb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you like to eat. I just did what I could with my limited knowledge. I can try to find something else if you want? We have some canned tuna and bread.”
“This is fine,” says Alwar. “We are grateful for the meal.”
A grumble erupts from the blond one. Gabrio. That’s what I just heard Alwar call him through the door.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I can order takeout, too. There isn’t much around here, but we have a decent pizza place twenty minutes away.”
“What is pizza?” asks Tiago.
“The meal is fine,” Alwar growls at Tiago.
“Where is the ale?” Gabrio, the glorious blond, says.
I forgot the beer. That’s where. “We’re out. I need to buy some tomorrow. Is there a specific brewery you like?”
“Ale is ale, woman,” Gabrio barks. “We drink it.”
Alwar flashes a look at Gabrio to silence him and then meets my gaze. “Whatever you bring is fine. Thank you, Lake.”
I nod compliantly. Whatever the hell is going on isn’t nothing. Alwar is sucking up to me.
Why?
Right before I opened the door, Alwar was discussing something he wants from me. He said I’m a proxy and the last Norfolk.
“You may set the food there on the floor.” Alwar points to a spot just below the painting.
I step forward, lower the tray and then—
It happens so fast.
The moment I set the tray down, one of the men reaches out and grabs my hair.
I scream as the walls melt into a black-and-white movie. My skin burns, and my limbs feel like they’re being pulled apart, cartilage snapping in my joints.
My brain is on fire along with my lungs, and I scream again. There’s fire all around me. I’m melting away, my body disintegrating to ash, consumed by the heat. It feels like hot branding irons are prodding my organs.
My mind slides into darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’m lying on my back on a freezing stone floor. The air around me is cold and smells like putrid sulfur. Or is it me? Did I burn to death, and now I’m smelling my own scorched skin?
I don’t feel dead. I feel like I’ve been pulled apart, piece by piece, and glued back together.
How exactly does that feel? Bad.
My joints, neck, fingers and toes are so sore I can’t move them. Even my eyelids hurt when I attempt to open my eyes. The other muscles in my face feel like they’ve been put on stretcher bars.
“The effects will wear off shortly, Lake,” says Alwar. “Give your body a moment to settle.”
Oh shit. Oh shit. He’s standing right over me. I want to scream, but my mouth hurts too much. What the hell just happened? What did they do to me?
“She does not look well,” says Tiago. His voice isn’t as deep as Alwar’s, but he speaks with a low growl. Tiago the terrible.
“She is Norfolk. She is strong. She will be fine,” says the third man. It must be Gabrio the golden boy.
My mind starts to “settle,” as Alwar called it, and my body begins to cool from the outside in, like a dying ember.
“You see,” adds Gabrio. “Her color is returning to normal.”
