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Sebian wrapped his arm around my belly from behind. “Did you like that, sweetheart?”
Had I?
My mind was too stunned to make sense of any of this. Was I supposed to be angry at him for how he’d touched me without my permission, or thankful for how he’d made me feel? Was I flattered? Ashamed?
I didn’t know. I simply pushed through his arm, nearly tripping over my own feet as I bolted out of the library.
ChapterFifteen
Malyr
Past, Tidestone Dungeons
Keys clanked.
Hinges squeaked.
“Asker isn’t coming to save us, Malyr. He might be dead for all we know. We have to escape on our own before the strength of our gifts fades further.” Harlen sat beside me on the hard damp ground, his clothes torn to shreds, his legs skinnier than even mine and bruised black from the cane. “Youhaveto use your shadows. Do you hear me?”
Footsteps thudded.
Water splashed.
“When the jailor comes again, I’ll spit in his face and make sure I get the first beating,” my brother continued. “You have to suffocate him before he alerts the guards, Malyr. We’ll take the keys and fight our way outside. The moment we see the light, we shift with each other’s help. Shift and fly as far away from this place as possible, do you understand me? Malyr?” A shove to my shoulder where I lay on the filthy ground, eyes fixed on that small drain hole at the bottom of the wall. “Are you even listening!?”
Not water.
Vinegar.
The sour tang of it climbed into my nostrils until my mind dizzied and my empty stomach turned, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the sounds the acid always brought with it—deep grunts, high-pitched screams, curses.
“A turd in your teeth!” the girl in the cell beside us shouted. “Touch me, and I’ll bite that rancid piece of meat between your legs clean off! No! Get away from me or I’ll fucking kill y—”
Slap.“Foul-mouthed little bitch. Tie her down over the crate.”
Feet dragged.
Chains clinked.
“Goddess curse you bastards and put pox all over your yard! No! No!” Shouts turned into panicked, miserable yelps, piercing whatever hadn’t gone numb inside my chest yet. “I can’t do it. I swear, I can’t remove the shadows! No! No—augh!”
“Maybe you can’t give us Valtaris, deathweaver, but you still have plenty else to give us instead. Hold her legs. Keep her from bucking.”
Wood moaned.
The jailor, too, grunting like a beast to the hurried rhythm of skin slapping against skin. It almost overwhelmed the girl’s heaving, stuttering breaths. Theoomphshe ripped from deep in her chest as he hurt her, robbed her of her curses. Left the girl behind with nothing but pained whimpers.
Her name was Lorn.
She’d told me through the hole shortly after Lord Brisden had caught us somewhere along the border of Vhaerya and thrown us into the dungeons. Into a small square of a cell with packed stone, tight weaves of forged iron, and the flames of a faraway oil lamp. No window, no food, no water—save for whatever dripped from the ceiling.
“Stop! I beg you,” Lorn pleaded through her hoarse, staggered exhales. “Goddess, damn your souls!”
Another man chuckled. “Hissing and snarling like the animal she is. I lik’em like that.”
“Because you’re damn goat fuckers! All of you!”
“Shut your mouth, Raven whore!” Another slap, then the jailor grunted louder, deeper. “That’s what you are. A filthy whore. Nothing but a hole to get us some relief, so my lads here don’t go bothering the honest women up there.”
