Đ
“This is ridiculous! The girl is a waste of time!” Jydda waved her arms wildly, expressing her passion. “She is a liability!”
“Lady Jydda, calm yourself,” the queen spat impatiently. “Your antics do not help the situation.”
Trying to reign herself in, visibly grinding her teeth, Jydda continued. “The girl cannot possibly be of any use to us! Why has she been kept here?”
A few of the men standing in the group murmured their assent. The group had convened automatically after Integrity had been escorted from the fighting arena. The spectators had congregated around the royal family, and Jydda had begun her tirade almost immediately.
“We have our own reasons for keeping the girl.” The king's voice was placid, as though no amount of tension could affect him in the least.
“And what would those reasons be, exactly?” Jydda bowed her head deferentially, but her anger was still apparent. Irritating royalty was not a wise decision, not if you wished to remain alive, but Jydda had never been good at self control. Better to appear subservient and get answers than to yell and end up drawn and quartered.
The king raised one eyebrow, clearly informing Jydda that she was treading dangerously close to the edge. Still completely in control, he said, “I suppose that the counsel should be filled in on our current predicament.” He looked to his wife for her approval, though he would have continued irregardless. The circle shifted slightly so that all would have a clear view of their monarch's face. “You understand, of course, that anything I am about to reveal must never be talked about outside of official council meetings.” The majority of the heads in the circle nodded silently. “We have reason to believe the girl may be the Destine.”
Noise erupted in the room, sounds of indignation mingling with disbelief. It took a moment for order to be restored. The king waited silently until the group collected themselves. Before he had a chance to speak again, Jydda interrupted once more. “You must be joking! The girl is pathetic! I broke her nose with no effort. She cannot be our Destine.”
One of the gentlemen stepped forward. “With all respect, Lady Jydda, you saw what she is capable of, just now. She is rather fierce when prodded.”
Jydda scoffed. “Please. And how about when she tried to help her attacker?” Her voice was filled with derision.
The king spoke softly. “A weakness, to be sure, but one that can be easily cured.”
Jydda threw her hands into the air and made a noise of disgust. “She is--” she searched for a word, but came up with nothing. “This is absurd!”
The queen's lip was pulled up in what resembled a snarl. “Jydda, be silent!” she barked. “We have followed the girl for some time. She very well could be who we are seeking!”
A man cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, your highness.” The queen's head snapped around to lock on him. “May I ask why you have brought the girl here without being positive that she is, indeed, the Destine?”
A man who had been still, sitting in the shadows, stood and stepped toward the group. “We did not bring her here.”
“My son is correct.” The king sighed, unconcerned. “Benjamin, son of Dagnus, brought the girl here, without our knowledge or permission.”
The room buzzed with low conversation as each counsel member talked to their neighbor. The king broke it off. 'You now know our reasoning in keeping the girl alive.” He held a hand up to silence Jydda before she could protest. “We cannot rule her out. The Destine is too valuable to all of us for any chance to be squandered.” Without any further remark, he swept from the room, the queen at his side. The counsel members slowly dispersed by ones and twos until only one man was left alone. He walked further from the shadows, trailed his fingertips across the vertical bars. He stared at the splatters of blood, drying to black on the rough floor, and the inert form of the man. “Imagine what she could be with training,” he muttered, his face pensive. “Imagine.”
Đ
Galia was there when the guards returned Integrity to her room. Galia ushered them out, then proceeded to help Integrity clean herself up. Neither spoke, and Integrity submitted meekly to Galia's ministrations.
Once Integrity was free from the filth of the fight, Galia led her back to the bedroom. Integrity stopped, calmly walked back to the bathroom, and gathered her soiled clothing from the floor. Slowly, mechanically, she walked to the window, opened it, then dropped the clothing out of it listlessly. Not even bothering to close the window once more, she walked to the bed and crawled between the covers, letting her mind shut down completely. Galia left the room silently.
The night that followed was the longest in Integrity's memory. Though she felt extreme fatigue, sleep was completely elusive. She knew there was no hope that she would drop off, that the blessed oblivion of sleep would claim her. The man's face hovered before her in the dark. She locked her emotions away tightly, unable to muster the strength to banish him from her thoughts. She lay with her eyes open, staring into the darkness. Her eyes itched with weariness, but closing her eyes brought the grisly sight into sharp focus.
Dawn broke inevitably, the gray light filtering through the window showing filmy air outside. Integrity slid from the bed, wincing at the sharp pain she felt between two of her ribs. She staggered slowly to the window and peered out. The first snow was falling, the flakes so infinitesimal that they seemed to be a fog or mist. She was surprised at how much snow had accumulated on the grounds.
She stood, staring out of the window, immobile, until the sun had fully risen. Galia brought her breakfast tray. She looked at Galia weakly, then returned her gaze to the snow outside. Galia set the tray on the coffee table, then left without speaking. Integrity was glad.
She moved to the bathroom and forced herself to study her face in the mirror. Her split lip was swollen, an abnormal color. Every time she licked her lip, it stung as though her saliva were lemon juice. When she lifted her shirt slightly to check her ribcage, the pain was excruciating. The brief partial glimpse that she got was enough to turn her stomach. The bruising was thick, dark, and massive. She let her shirt drop, slowly lowered her arm again, and moved back to the main room. No wonder it hurts. How did he hit the exact place that the woman did? Is there some flashing target on my ribcage?
She sank slowly into an armchair and stared at nothing, silent tears leaking steadily from her eyes. Though she refused to allow herself to think of the previous night, she could not stop her body's natural reaction to the stress. She let the tears fall and welcomed the false reality she built around herself.
Chapter Eight
“You look awful!”
Ben and Integrity spoke at the same time when they next met. It was obvious that neither had been eating enough, and Integrity's split lip didn't help matters any. They both broke up laughing.
“What happened to you?” Ben chortled.
Integrity sighed, her smile in place, present whenever he was. “Another fight. What about you? You look like you're wasting away!”
Ben smiled back at her. “I am in prison, Integrity,” he gently reminded. “What did you expect, the picture of health?”
“Well, no, but you look like you're about to die!”
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, moving across the room to the armchairs. Integrity followed.
“I'm sorry,” she said, “I didn't mean to offend you.”
He shrugged. “I know. I shouldn't be so grouchy.” He leaned forward and uncovered the tray on the table. He touched the food, testing the temperature. “So, tell me, I don't eat because I don't have food. Why aren't you eating?”
Integrity shrugged noncommittally. “Shouldn't you just be glad that there's food for you?”
Hearing the tension in her voice, Ben let it drop. He began to eat, knowing it would make her happy. “Your lip looks like it's healing. When did it happen?”
“A few days ago.” The hostility was back in her voice.
“I'm really sorry that you're stuck here,
that you have to deal with this crap.” His voice was low. Integrity kept her gaze from his.
“So why don't we leave again?” Desperation colored her words. “Why stay here? We can leave and go someplace where they won't find us.”
Ben set the slice of pizza back on the plate. “Integrity, how would we do that?”
She shook her head in frustration, not wanting to listen to reason. “We'll go out the window. You do it all the time.”
“Then where would we go?” He was almost pleading with her.
“I don't know!” she spat out in frustration. “What does it matter? At least it wouldn't be here!”
Ben levered himself out of the chair and paced away from her, fingering the decorative knick knacks that sat above her fireplace. “I can't help you escape again.”
Catching his tone, she asked, “Can't or won't?”
He set the candlestick back down and turned to face her. “Won't.”
“What? Why--”
He cut her off mid-sentence. “I can't feel good about taking you from here. You're safe here.”
“Safe?” Integrity exploded from her chair, stalking toward him. “Yeah, I'm just flipping safe, aren't I? Look at my lip!” She shoved her face toward his. “Do you want to see my ribs? They're broken, Ben. I'm covered in bruises. You call this safe?”
He laid a calming hand on her shoulder. She could feel the chill of his skin seeping through her shirt. “Integrity, do you have any idea how lucky we are to even be alive?” Her look of confusion caused him to press on. “These people are dangerous. Very dangerous. You have no idea how relieved I was to learn that you were still alive, that they hadn't killed you as soon as we were captured.” He dropped his gaze and his hand at the same time. “I can't go through that again. If they ever get half a reason, they will kill us.”
Her anger dissipating, she murmured, “So you're saying it's better to stay here and let them do whatever they want with us?”
He raised his head and looked at her from under thick lashes. “You're safer here. If you leave, you'll die.”
She shivered involuntarily, the weight of his words sitting awkwardly on her chest. She hadn't seriously considered another escape attempt until this moment, but now the idea seemed completely foolish. “Okay, Ben,” she said, calm now. “If that's what you think is best, I'll stay.”
“You won't try to leave on your own?”
“No. Besides, how far would I make it?” Her levity broke the tension of the moment and Ben led her back to her seat. “I'm sorry for complaining. I guess I'm just a whiny little baby today.”
He waved her apology off. “Don't worry about it. This place isn't exactly a picnic. I'm just glad that you're better off than I am.”
Integrity felt uncomfortable, guilty for living in a nice room while he was stuck in prison. “Do you really have to go back to your cell? I mean, they never missed me when you got me out of jail.” She shifted her feet. “You could always stay here.”
She heard him blow air out of his mouth. “I only wish I could. They're keeping tabs on me, though. It would never work.”
She made a noise of frustration. “This is just stupid! What did you ever do to deserve this? And why should I be treated any different?”
He smiled weakly at her. “Don't worry about me. It's really not that bad. After all, I can spend all my time thinking about you.” She blushed, and dropped her eyes to her hands. “You know, this pizza really isn't half-bad cold.” He held the slice out toward her. “Some?”
She broke a small piece off and set it in her mouth, just to placate him. “Yeah, it's not too awful.”
“Mmm.” Ben pointed at her, swallowing his food. “I've got it! The next time they want you to fight someone, just stand there. Don't do anything! Maybe they'll lost interest and leave you alone.”
“Don't to anything?” Integrity looked skeptical. “Won't they just beat on me more?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No offense, but you're not exactly the best fighter. You're gonna get hurt anyway, right?” She nodded. “This way they might not make you fight again.”
She tilted her head from one side to the other, considering. “True,” she conceded, still not sold on the idea. “I guess it's worth a shot.”
He smiled widely at her, pleased with his idea.
Đ
It was several days before Integrity felt back to normal. She never paid much attention to the passage of time, but her bruises were turning a sickly yellow. She was listlessly dripping soup off of her spoon back into the bowl, marveling that someone had taken the time to cut out different shapes for the homemade noodles. These people have way too much time on their hands. Not that I can say anything.
There was one loud knock on the door. After a moment, the door swung slowly open. Bowman peered cautiously into the room, then entered fully, closing the door behind him. Integrity wondered why only Bowman had come inside. When he didn't speak, she asked, “Do you need something?”
He cleared his throat, the noise like gravel sliding over itself. “I'm here for your training, miss.”
“Training?” Integrity set the bowl back on the tray and stood up. “What training?”
He cleared his throat again. “To fight, miss.”
“Oh, um, okay,” she said slowly, not knowing what to say. “I didn't know I was going to be trained. Does that mean I'm going to have to fight again?”
“I was only told to train you, miss.”
She stopped several feet from him. “You don't have to call me 'miss' all the time.” He nodded, silent. “So, what do I do?” She swung her arms by her side, not knowing what else to do with them.
He stomped over to her, stopping within her reach. “Hit me.”
She laughed. “Hit you?” When he remained stone-faced, she took a half hearted swing at his shoulder. She had barely connected when his foot shot out, hooking behind her calf. She found herself on the ground, staring up at the guard.
“Get up.” She scrambled back to her feet, mentally unbalanced. “Hit me again. Harder.”
She could feel anger, probably from her embarrassment, smoldering deep in her abdomen. She swung harder this time, connecting solidly with his shoulder. He didn't shift in the slightest. Out of nowhere, his hand cuffed her on the side of the head. She couldn't see anything. “Hey!” she objected.
“I can hit harder.” Despite his words, his tone was not threatening; he was simply stating the truth. “You need to be aware of your surroundings. And don't swing wide like that—you'll expend all of your energy in the swing rather than the impact.” He turned sideways, his upper arm better situated for her to hit. “Hit me again.” She did, then he said, “Now hit straight forward. Feel the difference?”
“Yeah, I do.” My knuckles are throbbing. Of course I feel the difference.
The sparring continued for a moment, Integrity's hits having no visible effect, Bowman's returns always connecting. She grew more and more frustrated, her fighting becoming more and more wild, less restrained. She wanted to hurt him now.
“Stop, stop,” he said. Integrity stepped back, her breathing heavy. She wiped the sweat from along her hairline, the fatigue settling in almost immediately. “You're focusing too much on where you want to strike. It makes it way too easy to judge your next move. You need to let your gaze relax, go unfocused. You'll have a wider peripheral range.”
Integrity had to catch herself. She wanted to scoff, shake her head, roll her eyes. He's helping you, idiot! Don't piss him off! She positioned herself to start again, and he sighed.
“We're going to have to start at the beginning. Your stance is all wrong, you're not defending your head. Haven't you ever fought before?”
Integrity threw her hands down. “No, I haven't! I'm sorry, but where I live we didn't fight just for kicks and giggles!”
Bowman looked taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. “Well, miss, here we fight a lot. You may as well be able to hold your own.”
The af
ternoon sped by as he worked with the girl, teaching her how to be strong in her stance, yet flexible so that she wouldn't be knocked off her feet by a blow. Integrity never realized before how even a soft blow could send you for a loop. When Glegnar had beaten her in the jail cell, she hadn't needed to get up and keep going about with her duties. One couldn't afford to give up in a fight, not until someone was unconscious. Her mind screamed at her to stop the pain, to flee, but she knew doing so would benefit her nothing.
It took her more and more time to get back to her feet after Glegnar would knock her down, and he eventually called a halt to their session. “You can't take much more today.” He shook his head in disbelief. Integrity felt ashamed at her own weakness. “I'll have to find some way for you to work out or this isn't going to happen.” Without a farewell, he spun on his heel and left the room. Integrity walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, her legs numb.
I need to shower, she thought as her body odor wafted up to her nose. She felt sticky from all the perspiration, and her hair was stringy. She couldn't find the motivation to stand, and she eventually fell asleep in the chair, the kink in her neck repaying her laziness in the morning.
Đ
Without even looking, Jydda knew that the guards had their eyes glued to her. Of course they did. What else was there to look at? It was just a shame they were lowly stinking guards and not someone worth her energy.
She made a noise of utter disgust when she was forced to halt. Wasn't it explicitly clear that she wanted access to the room? “Well?” she spat. When the men still remained stationary, she hissed, “Open the door.”
Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series Page 11
