by Bronwyn Eley
‘I’m going to get a drink,’ I announced. ‘Would you both like one?’
They thanked me and I headed toward a man with a tray of wine goblets. Still, I kept an eye on them. Shae wouldn’t betray my lie, even though she didn’t know what it was for. They moved away from the dancers, settling alongside the feast table, close enough that I could hear. With my back to them, they must have assumed I couldn’t.
‘See something you like?’ Shae’s teasing voice drifted across the air. I tensed.
Markus chuckled. ‘That obvious, am I?’
‘To me.’ I could hear the smile in her voice. How I wanted to tell her off.
‘It’s probably not the best idea, I know,’ Markus admitted. ‘Since she will be leaving with Lady Jesper any day now, but –’ A sigh. ‘I can’t help myself.’
‘It’s nice to feel desired.’ Shae’s bold statements made my stomach turn. She had just met Markus, but it was her job to break the barriers that might keep others at bay. ‘Shae was a late bloomer, but I remember when she first started actively hiding her beauty. She wouldn’t admit it, but it’s something friends notice easily.’
‘Why would she do that? Hide her looks?’
There was a heavy pause before Shae answered, and I took a sip of wine in anticipation. ‘Beauty has its costs. Shae knows this.’
I dropped my gaze. The drinks man had not moved, either fascinated or confused by my strange movements. Beauty did have its costs. The day Shae was reassigned was burned into my memory alongside the day my father died. I tried not to picture the moment she was taken by the guards to the Companion House, the way her hair flung forward wildly when one of them pulled her roughly.
I was still in a daze when I returned to Shae and Markus. They gratefully took their drinks. Shae sipped, Markus gulped half his down and mine remained untouched.
‘Are you alright, Shae?’ Markus asked.
I flicked my gaze from Shae to Markus. ‘I’m fine, just a little tired.’ The lies were getting to be too much. Jesper was right – I had to tell him. But when? Now?
Shae sucked in a breath and turned abruptly to face me, head low. ‘Oh no,’ she groaned quietly.
‘What is it?’ I reached for her shoulders, ducking to see her eyes. Markus took a step toward us.
‘Just someone I’d rather avoid.’
‘Who?’ I peered over her head and scanned the crowd. Shae peeked over her shoulder and jerked her head toward a small group of people lingering by the edge of the dancers. A tall woman held out her hand to an approaching man, which he took, kissed and held onto.
‘The man dressed as a servant,’ Shae continued. ‘Palark Fowl. A regular at the Companion House.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He doesn’t take a hint. He’s requested me four times now and each time I’ve refused.’
At least she had that much. The Companions had the right to refuse anyone without explanation or consequence. The refused clients were always pawned off onto someone else, never left wanting.
I eyed the man in the green jacket – Palark. He had let go of the woman’s hand and now sipped on a glass of wine, tucking himself closely into the group. He was middle-aged, with leathery skin and long brown hair tied in a low tail. He looked harmless, but if Shae refused him, she would have had good reason.
‘Why do you refuse him?’ I asked.
Shae put one hand on my lower back and one on Markus’ arm, leading us further from Palark. Slowly, her posture returned, her eyes light once more. ‘Just something about him unsettles me. We have this –’ Her lips quirked. ‘This small room that sits just above the foyer. A little half-room, hidden in the wall. It has a slat through which we can observe the foyer and clients below. It’s all very untoward, but some of us prefer observing from afar while we make our choice, rather than meeting the clients and then refusing them. I saw him through that little slat after being told he requested me and something just … wasn’t right.’
‘And yet he keeps insisting,’ Markus added quietly. ‘He must have been quite taken with you, Insa.’
‘Yes, well,’ Shae chuckled, ‘the feeling wasn’t mutual.’
I wrapped an arm around Shae and squeezed, bringing a smile to her face. We were on the other side of the dancers now. Some stumbled through their intoxication, others laughing their way through the steps.
‘This is a slow song,’ I announced, as if they somehow couldn’t hear it as clearly as I could. Both Shae and Markus turned to me, Shae with a slight frown, Markus with a slight smile.
‘Perhaps we’ll have better luck with this one,’ Markus murmured. I looked to Shae, who took a step back. She turned her head slightly, pretending to search the crowd, but I knew better.
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘It gives me the chance to go find a friend of mine.’
‘You have other friends besides me?’ I asked incredulously, a hand to my heart. ‘So this is what betrayal feels like.’
Shae chuckled. ‘Stings, doesn’t it?’
Needing no further convincing, Markus took the drink from my hand and placed both our glasses on a nearby table. Shae – Insa – gave me a tight smile, with stern eyes demanding an explanation. Later. For now, I had to fulfil my promise to Jesper.
I had to tell Markus.
He reached down and collected my limp hand, leading me into the crowd once more. The couples around us stood mere inches from each other, palms pressed flat together. Markus waited. It was up to me, I assumed.
Do it now.
I stepped close, flattening my palms and facing them forward. As his hands found mine, the overwhelming urge to interlock my fingers with his was the only thing stronger than the urge to run while I had the chance, before I ruined everything.
What would happen when I told him? Would he be angry? Upset? Really, this was a terrible place to tell him. In front of all these people. It was the coward’s way out. He couldn’t yell here, couldn’t get angry.
‘I went to the dungeon this morning,’ Markus said. My head shot up. ‘I’m close with one of the guards.’ His eyebrows quirked. ‘But don’t tell anyone I said so. He’s not technically allowed to speak with me about such things.’
‘What things?’ I asked quietly.
‘About the wellbeing of the prisoners,’ he answered. A sharp pain stabbed at my chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. He had gone there to find out if my friend, Mr Alarn, was alright. ‘I didn’t know who to inquire about, since you told me so little of your friend, but –’ He passed a quick look around us, then smiled down at me. ‘They’re all fine. Fed twice a day; no bathing, unfortunately, but I guess they are prisoners. Lord Rennard and Captain Thorn have been visiting regularly, which is a little unusual, according to my friend, but he says the people inside are alright, for the most part.’
I let out a breath. ‘You didn’t –’
‘I did.’ He nodded, eyes and voice stern. ‘It was worrying you, and for me it was nothing.’ He shrugged one shoulder carelessly, but I knew better. It wasn’t nothing. ‘Your friend is fine.’
‘Thank you,’ I breathed.
‘Maybe now we can have some fun?’ His eyes danced, challenging me to refuse his request. Again, I thought about why I was doing this. To have some fun, to have easy conversations and true smiles before I died.
My lips trembled, locking away the sobs desperate to escape. I closed my eyes, trapping in the tears.
‘Have I done something to upset you?’ Markus’ voice was so much smaller than I was used to. Would this be how he sounded when I told him the truth?
I looked up at him. ‘No. Of course not.’
‘You look upset.’
‘I’m just concentrating on the dance.’ Another lie. This dance was easy.
‘You’re doing well.’ I could hear the smile in his voice, now that I had dropped my gaze again. ‘We just need to keep you practising.’
Lie. Truth. Lie. Truth. The options tumbled around inside my stomach.
The lie won. ‘I’m not sure w
hen Jesper and I will return after we leave.’
‘Will you come and see me?’ he asked. ‘When you do return?’
I let out a shaky breath and stopped. Markus stepped back, ducking his head slightly in an attempt to catch my wandering eyes.
‘I can’t say,’ I said softly.
His frown mixed with amusement. ‘Jesper won’t mind –’
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted. Was this the beginning of my confession? I’m sorry, I’ve lied to you for weeks now.
Say it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated.
‘What for?’ he asked.
I shook my head, eyes watering, heat flashing across my face. We must have stood out, still bodies among dancers; I caught people watching us, frowning at the apparent distress I was in. Markus reached out to take my hand but I sprang back, hands raised to stop him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered again. Then turned. Left him standing alone among the couples dancing.
I didn’t look for Shae, didn’t care if she had seen. No one came after me, and I found myself sitting alone behind a collection of large hedges.
I looked at my trembling hands with disgust. I could keep telling myself that it just wasn’t the right time to come clean, but the truth was that I didn’t want to tell him. Ever. I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t want to admit it. Not just that I was dying, but that I was selfish and useless. Rennard was right – I was a waste.
Was this what happened to them all? Did they, we, become useless to everyone except him? Wasting away until we died horribly, either alone in our rooms at night or in front of everyone on a stage?
A muffled shriek pierced the air and I pushed up off the ground. It was hard to tell if the cry was born of fear or excitement; the noise from the celebration had obscured it. Deciding to investigate, I moved deeper into the copse ahead. It wasn’t a forest – more a neatly prescribed arrangement of trees carefully chosen by Jesper, or Rennard, for her pleasure. Something about it felt staged, a beautiful garden to disguise the rotten ground underneath.
As a group of bushes cleared, I spotted two people pressed against a tree. Immediately I recognised Shae, from her ridiculous outfit. I stopped, fearful of interrupting her work.
But hadn’t I heard a scream?
Not a shriek of pleasure or excitement, but a cry for help. I was sure of it now. I knew this wasn’t the life Shae wanted, so why would she inflict unnecessary work on herself when she wasn’t obligated to?
She wouldn’t.
I pushed on, acutely aware of my heavy tread disturbing the quiet space. The music of the celebration had been reduced to a gentle hum, and now I could hear other sounds. Harsh breathing, noises of frustration and discontent.
I picked up my pace.
When I saw who she was with, I knew I was right in thinking this wasn’t something Shae had sought out. She had told me not moments ago that this man, Palark¸ repulsed her. That there was something off about him that made her keep her distance.
There was no way she would let him have her, not now.
My hand reached for him.
Not like this.
My fingers wrapped around the ponytail of coarse hair at the base of his skull and I pulled. His head snapped back with a violent jerk, matching the startled cry that fell from his mouth.
‘Kaylan!’ Shae cried, pushing off the tree he had pinned her against.
Palark’s hands reached back, fingers pulling at mine. But years of labour in the smithy had made my hands strong, and not even the Relic’s poison could make them fail now when Shae needed them most.
Needed me.
I wrenched my arm back, releasing my grip as the predator crashed to the ground. Within seconds I was straddling him. My first strike to his face brought a cry from Shae.
‘Kaylan, stop!’
She was scared for me, even after everything she had just endured; she was scared of what Rennard would do to me for attacking one of his guests. It didn’t matter. Forcing yourself on a Companion was illegal. I had every right to defend her from him.
I brought another fist down on Palark’s face. His nose cracked. Blood smeared across my knuckles. Shae’s cries for me to stop turned to a dull buzz in my ears. I kept striking him. I had to be sure he wouldn’t be able to touch her again. Not tonight. Not ever.
Another voice called out. ‘Stop!’
I saw Shae move away from me, the sound of her panicked voice mixing with others. By now, I was pretty sure Palark was unconscious. His eyes were closed, his body still, blood covering his face. But I kept hitting him.
I had every right.
Chapter 14
The rasping sound of my own breath woke me. When I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but black. The dull drip of water echoed as it fell onto my left foot. The ground scratched my skin, dust collecting under my fingernails and small stones denting my fingertips as I felt around. Pain laced across the backs of my hands with every movement – sharp, like little knives digging into the spaces between my bones. And something was wrong with the skin there, rough and broken. Pulled too tight.
I sat up slowly and stretched out my arms, tentatively learning my surroundings as best I could in utter darkness.
I shook my head, trying to recall something, anything. The memory was there, like someone whispering a secret in my ear. It sat in a protected part of my mind, a dark corner, like a dream refusing to be drawn into the light after waking.
I placed a gentle hand on my left arm, feeling the memory on my body. A large bruise, days old but fresh enough that it still throbbed. Rough hands had put me here.
But whose?
I touched my arm again, hissing at the pain. I only knew one man who enjoyed hauling people around by their arms like playthings. But why would Thorn have put me here?
Wherever here was.
I smelled the air, inhaling odours of rotten food and human waste. It was cold and damp. A black void. This is what I had imagined the dungeon to be like.
‘Kaylan!’
Shae’s once-soft voice rang out harsh. My head pounded as the sound invaded my entire body, crashing into it. I looked around, hoping to see her, knowing it was useless. She sounded afraid. I could imagine her eyes, lifeless. I had to help her.
‘Kaylan, stop!’
‘Stop what?’ I asked her. There was no response. ‘Shae!’ My desperation echoed off the walls and slammed back into me. I waited, but there was nothing more.
Sighing, I felt the ground, stabilising myself. Pushing up, my legs pinched at the sudden movement, as if they hadn’t done anything in a while. How long had I been here?
I reached down to a pain in my leg and was greeted by silk. I rubbed the fabric and dragged my hand up my stomach, until I reached small jewels across my chest. I was still in the blue gown Shae had lent me.
That evening played in my head. Rennard’s fixated stare, Jesper’s trembling arms, Markus’ warm hands. And Shae, in her ridiculously colourful costume, surrounded by trees.
But there was more.
I could feel it, taunting me again. Like the games we used to play as children. Running from our friends, chanting ‘you can’t catch me’.
Cradling my throbbing hands, I put a tentative step forward. A few more, until I found the wall. It was wet and rough.
Using it as a guide, I moved. Cautious steps led me to the door, or what I assumed was the door. Warped wood greeted my fingers as I felt around for the handle. I grasped the metal and shook it hard. The sound was deafening and did my hands no favours. The cell must have been smaller than it seemed. The door barely moved under my protests.
A loud metal sound startled me enough to take a step back. Light filled the void as the door opened inwards, colliding with my face. I jolted backward, landing on the ground, stones digging into my outstretched hands. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my parted lips as my face exploded with heat. My nostrils filled with hot blood, slowly leaking out over the curve of my dry lips. Without a sound, I lo
oked up to see my captor.
I knew it.
Thorn’s scowl greeted my squinting eyes.
‘What am I doing in here?’ I spat, not caring if I angered him or not. His searing eyes showed me he was already furious. Blood crept into my mouth.
Thorn ignored my question and reached out, hand tight around my arm, searing against the bruise, and dragged me to my feet.
One of these days, I would get sick of being manhandled.
The idea of what I could say to him, what I could do were I not here, excited me, but was soon forgotten as Thorn led me through the dungeon.
A long hall of warped doors stretched before me – hiding other worn bodies, I was sure. Who were the guests of Lord Rennard tonight? One would be Mr Alarn. Another: Min, perhaps.
Thorn moved me forward without hesitation. I knew where we were heading. Guards opened the doors to the Grand Hall as they heard our approach. My wet feet slapped against the ground in revolt. Figures lined the wall, but I paid them no attention, not with Rennard up ahead. Quiet in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, resting without a care.
Games.
Thorn dropped me to the ground in front of Rennard’s feet, my grunt the only sound in the room. I made no further noise, no cowering movements. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing, really knowing, just how terrified I was in this moment. I refused to let my actions reflect my pounding heart and twisting stomach.
Rennard sighed rather loudly, and I knew he was only just beginning to make his point. I finally saw my gown in the light. It was torn, revealing too much of my legs, now scratched and raw. The blue was messed with browns and a sickening red. I reached out to touch the stains, but Rennard’s dull voice stopped me.
‘I have heard from your friends –’ Rennard dragged out the last word, testing it ‘– about what happened, and I have heard from Palark. Now all that is left is to hear from you. I just need to know why.’
No wonder my hands felt as they did. There was barely a clean spot of skin on them. Bruises, certainly days old from the colour; split skin and cracked knuckles, now filled with dirt from the dungeon. It didn’t end there. There was a strange bruise on my left arm. Thick, long marks wrapped around my bony forearm. Fingers. A hand. It was no mystery where that came from. Tight skin on my elbows made it strange to move – they were likely as scuffed as my hands were. Everything hurt.
