AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I bite my tongue.
“I asked youwhere you got it.” His sharp demand carries all the power of a Supra. But Perg has suffered so much already. I will not give his name.
“I found it.”
Qequan pats the flat of the blade against his palm and walks around the rug, studying me. “I don’t believe you.”
I stare at the fur beneath my feet.
“And where did you find it?”
“On the way to the south dock.” I name the first place that pops into my mind. “Night shift. In the street leading past the food stores.” I dare to lift my gaze. “I know it’s illegal, but I’ve never used it. I was afraid for my life after—”
“Silence.”Qequan doesn’t yell, but the force of his voice echoes between the walls. “I did not ask for your excuses,human. This”—he holds up the knife—“is against the law, and you know that, do you not?”
I swallow and drop to my knees. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. Guards.”
The guard who found the knife seizes my elbow, and a second one comes to take my other. Natural fear, cold and sticky, rises to my skin.
“A pity.” Qequan strolls back to his chair. “I quite liked you, Lark. But I cannot tolerate untrustworthy humans in my city, now of all times.” He turns and sits, flaring out his robes as he does so. “We will discuss whether it’s exile or the canyon for you.”
The guards haul me backward.
“Qequan, please!” I cry out, my vision blurring with tears. “I’m loyal to the trollis. I wasn’t trying to flee the city!”
The trollis leader meets my eyes, and for a second I think he’s been swayed, that he’ll have pity on me, that my usefulness will outweigh what he sees as betrayal, or possibly even a suspicion that I’mconnected to the humans who attacked the trollis band. But any trace of sympathy vanishes, and the guards drag me down a dark, narrow hallway that I recognize from when I first arrived. I know where it leads. The dungeon.
My hope fizzles out like a drowning candle wick, and I’m locked in with the shadows, without a second chance to plead my case.
Chapter 22
After what must be a full night in this stony cell, I know I’ve been denied visitors. Azmar will wonder where I am when I don’t seek him out. When he finds my quarters empty. He’ll worry. I imagine him searching the city, asking around the south dock, maybe even approaching the human enclave. He’ll find Unach, too, and ask her. Will Unach worry? Or will she shrug it off and expect me to show in the morning?
Is it morning yet?
I curl into myself on the floor. There’s no bed in this cell, only a crude stone bench. Stone, rough and sharply hewn, composes everything but the ceiling. It leaves uneven red patterns in my skin.
I try to be brave. For hours I have tried to be brave. Bravery is one of the first things my father taught me. To remain stoic in the face of pain, to hide the hurt, to turn away when berated. But staring at the locked door, which I can barely see in the darkness, erodes my last traces of bravery. It slips away slowly, letting through shudders and lancing pain in my abdomen, then tears that spill over my lashes, half curving into my hairline and half pooling on the floor. Small, tight sobs form in my throat. The scent of bile clings to my sinuses.
Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I cry as quietly as I can. I’m twelve years old again, muffling myself with a blanket, hoping no one hears me because I can’t bear more punishment. But neither can I steal food from the kitchen and climb out the window, escaping intothe desert beyond Lucarpo’s borders. Despite what Grodd said, there is no escape from Cagmar. Not anymore.
Exile or the canyon.Either way, I’ll never see Azmar again.
A sob breaks past my lips, and I drop one hand to strangle subsequent ones in the crook of my elbow.Azmar, I’m so sorry.He’s the one sure way I could prove my loyalty to Cagmar, but I will never reveal him. I will not hurt him to save my own skin, even if the council chooses to throw me to the monsters. I am trapped between these walls for my own choices, not his. And I love him so dearly; I can’t bear to imagine him harmed in any way. At least a sliver of peace settles in, knowing he’ll be all right when this is over. Azmar will be all right.
I wish I could sleep, for dwelling on the place, purpose, and love I have found in Cagmar rips me to shreds, peeling my spirit away, one slender scrap at a time. It feels as though a fist clamps around my heart and slowly twists, never relenting. I think of Ritha, and it twists. Unach, it twists. Perg, it twists. And between each name and memory, Azmar surfaces, and the fist digs in its nails and squeezes, choking me with more sobs. It’s like merciless clockwork, turning seconds to minutes and minutes to hours and hours to days and years, until I would rather jump into the canyon than spend one more second within these tortuous black walls.
My eyes peel open. I rub the crust from them and wince with an aching back. It’s an effort to stand. Every part of me weighs a thousand pounds. My chest, tenfold. But I manage it. I’m dry to my bones, my water lost through weeping. No food or drink has been brought to me, though I’m not surprised.
I shove one foot in front of the other, walking to one wall, then to the opposite, until my body finds a rhythm in the pacing. I chew on my nails. Rip my hand away. Chew again. I try to piece my thoughtstogether, but I can’t find a thread to hold them. So I pace, slipping in and out of memories, dazed.
When a soft tapping sounds at my door, it strikes my ears as thunder. I jump, limbs quaking, and hear a very soft “Lark?”
I run to the door, skinning the side of my knee on the bench, and press my hands against it. Have I finally lost my mind, or—
“Lark?” A little louder.
