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A few of the other soldiers began assembling fires throughout the camp. I couldn’t tell how many captives there were now that we had picked up so many on our way out of Eserene, but easily more than five hundred people were slumped on the ground, curling into the fetal position or throwing their heads back in despair. The fires cast an eerie, dancing glow across the gaunt faces that surrounded me. I cringed at the thought of Eserene’s thousands and thousands of citizens being reduced to a fraction of the zombies that sat around me now. Did anyone from Inkwell even make it out? The flames I’d seen just hours earlier coming from the streets of the slums made me think that Inkwell – and everyone in it – were nothing but ash.
I had settled against a tree when I heard footsteps. Whirling around, I saw a man with a Prismanian surcoat bounding into the pitch black, away from the camp. He was silent, but his face was frantic with fear, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The prisoners stayed silent, but the guards began to chuckle.
“An hour,” one of them yelled from the back of the line.
“That’s generous, Artem. I say thirty minutes,” another guard yelled back. “They don’t usually last that long.”
The man called Artem and the other guards heckled each other back and forth when a growl ripped the air, my lungs turning leaden and my skin prickling. A garbled scream, the squelch of flesh separating from bone, and…
Silence.
I fought back the rising panic, every instinct telling me torun.But I stood less of a chance out there. I didn’t want to meet the same fate that man had, didn’t want Ingra’s words to come true.
“Ohfuckyou lot,” a guard in a dog mask shouted down the camp. “Didn’t even get to place my bet.”
“Not our fault you’re slow as shit, Len,” Artem yelled back, cackling with laughter.Bastards.I couldn’t tell how lucid the other prisoners were around me. No one moved much as the soldiers patrolled through camp, staring down at sullen faces.
I bent, curling my body on the ground at the base of the large tree, draping my arm over my eyes. I wanted to go home. To Inkwell, to Copper Street, to our little shack, to the cave with the dancing lights. All that remained of that life was ghosts.
???
Acrid smoke filled my nose, coated my throat, stung my eyes. My sight was red, my skin was burning, the forest–
I shot upright, my pain catching up to me as I shook the vision from my head. I hadn’t fallen asleep but was caught in the void between consciousness and unconsciousness, the first images of a nightmare worming their way into my brain. Sweat creeped down my brow and back. The darkness was heavy, the fires burning low as they sent embers floating through the air – nothing like the raging inferno that seemed to haunt me. The other prisoners were slumped in heaps, limbs turned at unnatural angles. Were they sleeping as fitfully as I had?
Food. I needed food. My hands shook slightly, emphasizing my empty stomach. Did they plan on feeding us? A group of three soldiers chatted in hushed tones toward the southern end of the camp. I watched them pass a canteen around, wriggling it beneath their masks and taking quick gulps, their jaws hardening against the burn of whatever was inside. I hoisted myself up on aching legs, my broken foot nauseatingly swollen.
Their gazes roamed to me as I approached them. Vorkalth had stayed in Eserene, but I felt just as violated by their stares. I kept my eyelids heavy and my mouth slightly open, looking as distressed as I felt. I hated that I didn’t know if any of these men had been in the throne room, if they recognized me. “Will there be food?”
“I see something I’d like to eat,” one of the guards blurted, looking me up and down before turning back to his fellow soldiers and chuckling.Ugh.His stag mask was tarnished and glowed dully in the fire light.
“I’m hungry.” My voice was firm and flat.
The soldier turned back to me. “What?” he snarled. I fought the instinct to cower beneath his gaze. I did not repeat myself. The smell of rum smacked me across the cheek as he leaned in closer to me. “Don’t know why thefuckyou can still talk. You get your next dose tomorrow, but I could give you a little something tonight.” He hooked his arm around my back, pulling me close to him. The smell of rum was immediately overpowered with the stench of unwashed skin and weeks of sleeping in the forest. The other soldiers whooped and cheered as he ran a grimy, calloused hand down the bloody skin of my bare back. I was utterly frozen, unable to move, unable to think. My ribs were searing. “Such a pretty dress you’re wearing,” he breathed into my ear, his hand roving the corset, moving closer to the bow tied at the bottom.
No. No.No.
“Ythan.” A low, raspy voice boomed from behind me, the roughness sounding like he had something caught in his throat. The soldier’s arms stiffened around me, his hands stopping their wandering. “Let her go.”
The soldier let go only to immediately turn me so his body was pressed to my back, his arms across my chest. I felt something hard against my backside.Fucking Saints–
“Let her go,” the man repeated. The same man with the ram’s head from the castle faced us, his hand on the hilt of his sword. I noticed then that his leathers were different from the soldier’s who held me.Ythan,he had said.Ythan and the other soldiers’ leathers were dirtier, more rugged. This man’s leathers had clean lines, sharp cuts.
“Oy, Miles. Always ruining my fun.” Ythan ran the back of his hand down my cheek, still crusted with blood.
“You will address me as Lieutenant Landgrave.”
Ythan smirked. “Don’t you want to join in,Lieutenant Landgrave?” He moved his free hand to my hip, yanking back and pressing himself into me. I was going to besick.
Steel rang as Miles pulled his sword from his sheath. His voice was jagged granite. “Unhand her.”
“Blood of the Saints, mate,” he cawed, his grip loosening slightly. My breathing was shallow, my lungs burning.
Miles took a step forward. The soldiers behind Ythan rose, each unsheathing their swords. Ythan threw me to the ground where I landed with a yelp, the pain causing my vision to flicker black.
The men faced each other, and though I couldn’t see their eyes, I could feel the heat radiating from behind their masks. Miles growled. “You will do as I instruct or you will be handed over to Vorkalth.”
Ythan and his men did not falter. “Well,Lieutenant Landgrave,”he said again with a sneer. He lifted the very bottom of his mask and spat on the lieutenant’s boots.
