Page 60 of To Tame An Angel

“I’m certain her majesty would expect the same level of torture as the one provided by the Master of Pain herself, Angora,” the Sentinel said slowly.

Mother lifted her chin and slapped the blood-soaked whip against her palm. “As she should.”

She cast her eyes to Tannor, who frothed at the mouth.

“Have him readied for me. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of my child and ensure she’s not able to escape to attempt something stupid that would end her dead,” mother sneered and glanced down at me.

I pushed with what was left of my strength up, ready to charge towards Tannor, when mother took two steps and smacked me across the face with the wooden base of the whip.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

NALLA

I felt the coolness of the room before I recalled the happenings that led me there. The moment the memory came to me, I jolted awake, gasping and searching. Searching for what? For who? Tannor? Mother? My sisters? My brother, long dead from the womb? I wasn’t certain. I just needed something, someone. Then the sharp, raw pain ignited in my back.

As if the skin had been peeled from my bones, filleted and served for the pleasure of others. I screamed, digging my fingers into the bedding and writhing on the bed. Whatever pain erupted in me; it was surely nothing compared to what Tannor was undergoing. To what he was suffering. The thought of not being able to get to him burst another desperate yell from my mouth. I tried to breathe through my panic and pain. I had to figure out how to escape.

I was in a sparse room, tidy, devoid of any luxuries I was accustomed to. There were no silks, no carpets, no plush curtains. Just a small rectangular room with a narrow bed topped with cooled blankets that did nothing against the chill. A small candle a top a round table, the wick low as if it’d burned for many hours. Hours I’d spent sleeping instead of planning how to escape and save Tannor.

And what if Tannor was already dead? No. He couldn’t be. He must live. He had to hold on and wait for me. I’d figure out a way to save him. To save us both. There was no one in the entire world that wished to save him. He didn’t matter to anyone but me. With a grunt, I pushed myself up on my elbows, the partially healed skin tearing as I moved. I felt the warm patches of jova leaves pressed against my back; they held anti-inflammatory properties. Someone had tended to me.

I stretched out my arm and pushed myself up once more, trying to get on my feet. Trying to study the room, trying to find a weakness in the structure. Just like I’d been taught by my mother. There was a pit in my stomach which told me she wouldn’t place me somewhere vulnerable. Somewhere where I could figure a way out. She was too smart for that. She’d likely entered the room herself to inspect it, to ensure I wouldn’t find a weakness.

Pushing past the despair, I made it to my feet, breathing deeply and refusing to cry anymore. I had to focus. My pain was nothing. My pain was temporary. I’d likely already been given healing tonics that would speed up the process. I would survive. Tannor would not. Tannor was mine, branded by law, and my responsibility.

I staggered around the room, my hands pressing against the wall, studying the tall windows, memorizing the pattern of the stones, searching for a hidden entrance. A way in and out not seen by the naked eye.

Nothing. It was nothing but a square bit of space, likely used for storage for many years. The only ones who knew the way in and out were the rats. I felt an overwhelming need to yell and cry and pound my fists at the door, though I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere. It would get me nothing but attention from my mother. And mother was busy destroying Tannor as I fruitlessly searched for a way out.

I pressed my ear to the door, trying to discern something. A yell. A scream. A commotion. There was nothing. Nothing but silence. The silence was the worse. The silence reminded me of death and the thought of Tannor already dead panicked me beyond anything. He would’ve died alone, with no one who cared to even witness his last moments. That thought erupted sobs from my throat, and I angrily tugged at the latch of the door, yanking with all my strength, trying to use my magic against it. But it was locked and made of silver. Our magic couldn’t penetrate silver. That’s when I realized this room was meant to hold a woman.

Mother’s castle was old, older than the war, and once it belonged to a Prince. It had belonged to a man who kept many wives. A long time ago, before the War of Power, a woman must’ve been kept here. A burning anger towards the way society functioned raged within me. We’d gone from being slaves to men, to being slaves to laws. We continued being slaves. Never to love, to cherish, to care. We were nothing but our own doom.

With one last flush of fury, I tugged at the hatch and, to my surprise; it sprang open. I stumbled back, nearly falling on my lacerated back.

It was my darling sister Valle, full and pregnant, with hair loose and cascading down her back. Dressed in a loose dress, she seemed like one of our goddesses, here to save me. Here to soothe me and cure me and show me a way to save Tannor.

However, her face was hard. Harder than I’d ever seen it. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. Then she pointed to the bed with a long finger.

“Why are you up and about?” She snapped. She held tonics and fresh jova leaves.

Confused, I glanced back at the bed and realized that the one who’d cured me, who’d tended to me, was Valle.

“Is he dead?” the words came out like a sob. It was the only thought I had, and I knew Valle wouldn’t deny me the truth.

Her shoulders sagged softly, and she shook her head, but her hand remained unmoved.

“Let me tend to you and I’ll tell you,” she said in an even compromise.

I glanced at the opened door, and there were five of my mother’s soldiers posted there. The chances of being able to get past them were slim to none. I was a good fighter, but not the best. I wished I were my oldest sister, Zaya. Zaya was superior to all of us in skill. I was a poor match, especially wounded as I was.

Slowly, I nodded and wobbled back to the bed, laying down with a wince. Valle sighed as she looked at my wounds, tsking softly as she did.

“You’ve reopened the wounds, they were nearly closed,” she murmured and set her tonics and materials on the small table. “I spent the night here. You had a fever and a medic, and I worked to break it.”

I had no memory of this. None. Not even in delirium.

“We gave you purple tea,” she said softly, peeling back the cloth from my back, making me gasp.

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