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“Hold her like that, Cecilia,” Denham said. “Perhaps when she starts to choke on her own blood, she’ll understand her situation.”
She’d have flipped them both off if she could move her fingers. Then she immediately regretted thinking about her fingers, because the pain radiating up from the two with the nails that had been peeled off seemed to intensify. Tears threatened to run free, and Rochelle did her best to hide in a happier memory. It felt like every time she tried that tactic, her chosen memory only became tainted.
Her throat worked on a swallow and she forced herself to remember what Denham had said. What he was asking. He wanted to know how she’d come to this world. What she was doing when she was brought across. They were essentially the same questions he’d asked before, with a bit less of a focus on simply learning about the world she came from. Though he’d started there, until he’d realized she intended to tell him endless useless information.
Denham started speaking again when she was quiet for too long. “Perhaps it’s time to heal you up and begin again, then.”
She barely heard him over the thundering of her heart in her ears. She had no idea how long they’d been interrogating her, asking her veritably the same questions on repeat, but it had finally occurred to her the one thing he had never asked. Despite that it seemed like such an obvious thing to want to know, considering his blatant obsession, Denham had never, not once, askedwhowas responsible for her traversing worlds.
He’d only asked about her activities, if she’d known what was happening when it happened, if she’d felt funny during transition, if she’d been sick. He’d even asked what time of day it was. But nothing about the responsible party.
All at once, his snarled words came surging up from the trenches of her memory.“I can smell it on you. The spell I cast so many moons ago.”
In the wake of realizing exactly who held her prisoner in that cave, she’d promptly forgotten to dwell on the implications of that declaration. She’d more or less forgotten it entirely, but the meaning was clear now—horrifyingly clear.
“I-it was you,” Rochelle said on a gasp, the words escaping her before she could think better of them.
“I beg your pardon?” Denham said. But this time his tone did change, just a bit.
“You … brought me here,” Rochelle said. “That’s why … you haven’t asked. And why you’re so curious.” Was it possible, then, that he was also connected to Aric’s presence in Yafae? Was it possible hewasn’t? She swallowed hard in an attempt to strengthen her voice. “Did you really abduct me from my world just to torture me? What do you want with me, or with a world so devoid of magic?”
“Wretch!” Cecilia snapped, her voice booming through the room. “I warned you about asking questions!”
Something coiled around Rochelle’s left hand, winding between the fingers and forcing them apart. It felt like another of Cecilia’s vines. Or a snake, maybe.
“Wait, Cecilia.” There was a coldness to Denham’s voice that swept over Rochelle and sucked the air from her lungs. She couldn’t see him well due to the awkward hold of the vine still twisted in her hair, but she could see enough to know when he stepped a bit closer. “Perhaps it is time to adjust our tactic a little.”
Time felt like it stood still while Rochelle waited for him to continue. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even flex her hand or lift her head to glare at him. Her body wanted to shake, to tremble from fear and exhaustion, but she refused to let it. So she waited.
Denham again grabbed hold of her chin and jerked her head forward so that she could see his eyes, despite the restrictive hold of the vine. Her hair ripped, but he ignored her muted cry of pain and held her in place. “You are both correct and mistaken,” he said. “It is my magic that brought you here, butyouwere an accident. An unintentional result of a spell yet unperfected.”
Rochelle’s eyes widened in horror.What?
“However, you have become an opportunity,” Denham continued, his lips twisting in a dark smirk. “I will perfect the spell I invented for travel between worlds, and once I am King, I will use that power to negotiate with the rulers of the most advanced society I find. Either they will accept my offer of sorcerers to bolster their armies in exchange for their greatest weapons, or I will use their world as a dumping ground for our worst criminals.” He chuckled low. “A win-win, really.”
Cold dread washed through her as his words reverberated in her head. It was so much worse than she’d imagined.
Denham released her chin and straightened, his expression falling immediately to a bone-chilling neutral. “I trust now you understand.”
She dragged in a ragged breath. “Y-you said … when you … become King…” She was an idiot for trying to push any further. But it seemed significant. It all seemed significant.
“I did. Because my incompetent cousin is soon to die.”
“Den,” Cecilia said, her tone hushed and urgent. “That’s more than she needs to know.”
For once since their fallout, Rochelle completely agreed with her. She would much rather not have been made privy to that information. But then she’d already known they were going to kill her, hadn’t she? Something like a hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. “You’re crazy,” she said. “I don’t have any useful information.” She swallowed a lump of useless emotion. “You know that.” She did her best to roll a glare in Denham’s direction. “Your plan will fail. Aric will beat you.”
“What was that?” Denham asked.
Rochelle coughed against the drip of blood tickling her throat. “I have nothing to tell you. You’re wasting your time.”
A hand closed around her neck and crushing magic engulfed her, pushing the restrictive vine from her hair even as her airway closed. Denham leaned over her, lips drawn back in a vicious snarl. He leaned into her so forcefully her chair was tipped back on its rear legs. “Perhaps Cecilia was right, then. All you are is a common whore in search of attention. I am ashamed to have wasted even a moment of my time or energy thinking you had anything useful to share.” His grip tightened and his eyes lit. The pressure of his angry magic bit into her skin from all sides, like a tangible weight. “I will rid my people of the plague of you, immediately.”
Spots dotted her eyes and fear-induced adrenaline shot through her system. He meant to kill her, right then and there. If she couldn’t somehow escape his grip, escape his reach, she was dead. She could feel his magic crushing her, as if trying to snuff her out of existence altogether.
She thought she heard Cecilia laugh in the background, but it was muted behind the continuous roar of her own heartbeat.
Denham’s face over hers became blurry as the lack of oxygen took its toll.
