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The door to my room remained unlocked, as I wasn’t a prisoner here, but guards had been posted outside my door. I could hear them shifting their weight and chatting throughout the night as they stood post. They would be my guides in this foreign castle, and I was thankful for that.
Turning my back from the morning light that now warmed my room, I opened the door. The men froze like they had been caught in the act of doing something unforgivable, but they both remained on either side of the door, facing forward, utterly harmless. I stepped out. They watched me with blank, well-trained faces.
“Can you take me to the girl I brought?”
They exchanged a look but peeled themselves away from the door frame. One walked in front of me, assumingly leading the way, and the other trailed behind us. Was this the way I was to be watched or was this a gift of protection?
I followed him down a dark stairwell, watching the back of his maroon helmet, the long red feather drifting in the momentum of the wind the guard created. The dungeons, I expected. My presumption was correct as the sounds of hissing and moaning met my ears.
An angry scream rang out in the darkness, the glow of torches lit with Fae firelight waited at the end of the hall. We turned the corner and entered their radiance. The light revealed large, barred cells surrounding an open space in the middle. Empty cells circled what I assumed was the main torture arena. An easy way to terrify any who waited. Let it build up the suspense as they watched others flinch in pain. A trick I liked to use as well.
A weeping groan hit my senses like a galloping horse crashing to a stop. Leaning away from the table, Red’s face was twisted in pain. Though I imagine it hurt to press her back against the chair as she tried to pull herself free.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’ll sit with this for one minute,” the Fae said. He twisted the knob of an instrument that held Red’s finger, lowering a corkscrew until it pierced an already open wound clean through. She screamed, though she tried to mute it behind her closed lips. Her face drained of all color.
I nearly stumbled over my next step, righting myself quickly as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. My stomach turned and not because of the maliciousness of the torture.
It was a tactic I had used before, though I often liked using a hammer, and I didn’t go clear through their fingers like he had. It made it more of a game when it was a race to see if I could crush their bones before they pulled away. This didn’t look nearly as fun. Specifically, because my hands itched to undo Red’s bindings.
“How’s it going?” I tried to sound uninterested.
“Ah, come to check on your Nymph. Well, she’s doing great.” He snickered. “Got a good tongue lashing from her this morning as I pulled her out of her cell. Girl has spunk. I'll give her that, but she’ll break before long. She’s scared. I can smell it.”
“I’m actually”—he pulled the corkscrew from her finger and ripped her hand from the device, talking over her scream—“all done with her, now. I’m getting ready to toss her back into her pit.”
“Well, in that case, just leave her there. Thought I may be able to get a few hours of my own fun in.”
“A man after my own heart. You like torture?” he cooed, throwing his tool back on its mount on the wall, still bloody.
“Oh, I love it. My favorite pastime, actually.” I smiled, an actual smile, because I knew how true it was.
“Good,” he hummed. “Materials are behind you on that wall. Do whatever you wish, just keep her alive, even if she’s on the brink of death’s door at the end. King Windre will be glad to hear how involved you’re getting.”
“I’m sure he will.”
Simple enough. As the men filed out of the room and I turned toward Red, who sagged in her seat, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up any tool from the wall. I took small steps, watching her watch me, until I sat at the table with her, and her gaze shifted away.
“Your mind is telling you to say whatever you need to, to get out of these chains, isn’t it?” I leaned forward, looking at the blood that was drying in small patches on the table. “But there is another part of you that just can’t give up your control yet.”
Red swallowed. The stench of her fear was definitely apparent the closer I came. “A war is brewing in your mind. Do you feel crazy yet?” I tried again.
“Why are you talking to me, Milo?” she whispered, “Just do what you’re going to do and get it over with.”
Taking my own sweet time, I licked my lips and examined the dirt that clung to dried tears in black streaks down her cheeks. Her gray eyes flicked up to me, then away.
“Do you want me to tell you that I was a part of a rebellion? Is that what you want to hear? That the very night you found me out of bed, what I was really doing was forming a plan to escape?” Her lips trembled as she spoke.
It had always been clear to me that she was up to something. For some reason though, it never occurred to me that she was going to run away.
“I’m not strong, Milo,” she panted, finally meeting my stare. Her fingers cupped over the metal cuffs that kept her hands on the table. “I’m too scared to fight back, but I’m willing to do what I have to do to survive. If I knew any more, I’d tell you, if it would get me out of this mother-forsaken place. But all I have is my will to get through another day, and a couple of names.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” I finally said, pushing the tools still on the table off to the floor. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water next to my seat. I’m sure it was meant to be there for some sort of dunking, but it worked for my purposes too.
Carefully, I took her hand and began wiping the blood from her fingers, applying pressure when the blood didn’t stop. Her lips pressed into an almost nonexistent line.
“Do you have feelings, Milo? Are you regretting bringing me here?” she growled under her breath.
“And if I said I did, would that change anything?”
