AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 27
Now
The violet smoke clung to my throat as it filled my lungs. The cough that erupted from my chest was powerful enough to push the men with the pipe off of me as I choked and gagged, doubling over as I clutched my stomach. The pain from my ribs shot spots through my vision. Every gasp pulled the smoke deeper into my lungs and I waited for the loss of self control to hit me, the rage that had roared through Roalin and Balthazar. When my throat cleared enough for my breath to go from gasping to ragged, I righted myself, my eyes closed.
When I opened my eyes, my entire life would be centered around leechthorn. Every fiber of my being would yearn for it, hunger for it, kill for it. This was the end of me.
A calloused hand grasped my chin, my eyes flying open on instinct. A wolf mask stared down at me. I…
I was fully conscious.
I had no more desire to rage and destroy than I had before the masked men stormed in. My throat was dry and felt swollen, like I had crushed dry autumn leaves and swallowed a handful. The brokenness of my body caught up to me once again as pain shot from my ribs through my chest, my broken foot throbbing. No longing for another hit, no fiending so violently that I erupted into a furious frenzy.
Realization hit me as the man in the wolf’s mask turned my face in his grip. “She needs more,” he called behind him.
“More?” Vorkalth sputtered.
“Yes, Sir,” the wolf confirmed, and the same men who had held me down before descended upon me once again. His voice was firm enough to sound like he was sure of himself at that moment, though I didn’t know if he was. I sure as hell didn’t know what was going on. Why wasn’t I exploding into a storm of fists and nails and teeth? Why didn’t I crave another hit? From everything I had learned and now everything I had witnessed, I should have descended into madness by now.
The pipe was brought to my lips again. I willed myself to fight it once more, through the confusion that roiled within me, over the questions that tore through my mind.
The smoke poured down my throat, stinging the raw tissue that remained from the last hit. I coughed so hard that my head filled with pressure, my vision spotty again. Doubled over, I took stock of my mental state as the coughs continued to tear through my body, plumes of violet smoke still erupting from my mouth. The only thing I was fighting for was clean air. The only thing I craved was escape. My mind was clear, my will intact. Which meant…
It didn’t affect me?
Wrena said it took one hit, right? I had taken two.
I had to think.Think think think. Keep coughing while you think, Petra. Draw it out. Give yourself more time.Every cough threatened my consciousness once more as my ribs screamed in protest. If I stood up anddidn’tfly into a boiling rage, they’d make me take the pipeagain,and I didn’t want to test my luck, lose my control…because what if itdidaffect me?
I recounted the sights of Raolin and Balthazar’s tantrums in my head, the primal roars that ripped from their throats, the flying limbs and thrashing movements as they fought against the soldiers who restrained them. The bloody pulp that remained of them. My plan laid itself out in my head but it didn’t have time to form completely. I could only see the first step. It was time to pretend.
A final cough burst from me, so intense I swore my throat would be left bleeding. I stood. One last breath as deep as I could manage.
The violence overtook me. For a split second, I wondered if the leechthorn had a delayed effect, the rage coming from so deep inside me that I wasn’t sure it belonged to me. The pain of my earlier abuse faded to the background more and more with each movement as adrenaline coursed through me. My mind was clear as I exploded. I punched and clawed at the soldiers closest to me, writhing the way Roalin and Balthazar had. The soldier’s grips were like the manacles I had worn around my wrists just minutes ago, in another lifetime, in another reality. I did everything I could to make it look believable, make it look like I was succumbing to the madness. Screaming began to feel like it was ripping my throat from the inside out. I felt the pain creep back into my broken foot with every kick I landed. Saliva flew from my mouth, angry tears streaming down my cheeks. And behind every kick and punch and swipe was something more that threatened to burst forward.
I let them subdue me, securing me in shackles once again while putting up enough fight to keep them from suspecting. Not so much that I lost my wits, which I was coming dangerously close to, but enough to keep their eyes from lingering too long.
I didn’t have the stomach to consider what was going to come next. I was now one of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. I’d be marched out of the throne room, out of the castle, out of Eserene. Probably out of Widoras. Were there other people like me? What about–
My mother.Had she told me where she’d be waiting during Initiation? How secure was the castle? I hoped to every fucking Saint that the bastard Castemont would protect her. I knew she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.
My arms flailed in my pretend hysterics. As long as I kept fighting, kept exploding, I’d have time to think. I hadn't the freedom to wander during my time here so I had no idea of the routes the soldiers would have taken through the castle, the guards they would have come across to get to the throne room. How many had been slain? How did the intruders even get in?
When my screams finally went hoarse, sweat dripping down my blood-caked cheek, I slowed my fists. They dropped to the crimson ruffles of my skirts. It felt like every inch of my skin was bloodied, either beginning to dry and crust over or still dripping from the various wounds that marred my body. My chest moved slightly, rising and falling within the corset that bound me so tightly it may have been the only reason my ribs hadn’t burst from my chest.
Vorkalth walked toward me, every drop of his foot wet with the sound of blood on marble. He was a mountain towering over me in the honeyed light of the sconces, foreboding and terrifying andmassive.A low growl rumbled in his throat but without being able to see his expression behind the mask, I didn’t know what it meant. How was I supposed to stand? I stared straight ahead at his chest, the top of my head barely reaching his shoulders.
He bent down, hooking a finger under my chin and pulling my face to his mask. “In all my days,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never seen the likes of you.” I willed my eyes to reflect the fire that burned inside me praying that it looked close enough to the real thing. “The leechthorn always works the first time. Kauvras is going to have fun breaking you.” He trailed a calloused finger from my temple down my cheek, as light as mist. He continued down my chin, my neck. Goosebumps rose from my skin as his finger caressed the hollow of my throat. “Oh?” he mused. “It seems your skin is prickling under my touch.” His voice dripped venomous amusement. “You welcome this.”
My goosebumps rose from fear, not arousal. Vorkalth didn’t seem to know the difference. I fought back the nausea once again, willing my features to stay straight, my eyes wild. My mind was screaming for him to back away from me, to leave me alone. Something about staring into a mask was so much harder than staring into a man’s eyes. “Maybe youwillget on your knees for me after all.” He finally turned away, stalking back to the center of the room.
“Take the prisoners. Keep the girl under close watch. Do what you want but leave her face. Burn the dead.” A flurry of movement and I was being pulled by the chains toward one of the doors at the back of the room. Ludovicus was in chains, his still unconscious body thrown over the shoulder of a large man and carried out the door down an obscure hallway. The bodies of the slaughtered brothers were dragged to the pile that lay in the back. I was able to turn my head just far enough to see one masked man pour something across the bodies while another lit a match.
I only saw the light of the fire reflect off the back walls of the throne room. I couldn’t turn to look at it. If I did, I didn’t think I could stop from hurling myself into the flames where everyone I loved waited for me.
Trudging forward, still in my high heels and gown, I couldn’t keep the whimpers of pain from escaping. Every step on my broken foot shot icy pain through my entire body, the ice meeting the fire of my broken ribs and colliding in a thunderous crash. Any hope of getting to the dagger was gone. The men didn’t look back at me.
???
