Page 27 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Liar. It’s the first thing I noticed about him, even before I realised he was an elf.

“Liar,” he growls, echoing my inner voice, his face twisting into a scowl. “I know lying is second nature to the male scum, and it seems like it’s passed on to the females too.” Taking a menacing step towards me, I can hear the groaning of his chains, the metal screaming under the pressure as he battles against it. “Shame.”

He’s so close I can feel his breath against my skin, causing the little hairs there to stand up as tingles run across my whole body. He watches my reaction with interest before stepping back, and I realise he was just showing me that if he wanted to, he could break out of the chains restraining him. Frowning at his retreating back, I realise that there has to be something else keeping him here. If what the guards say is true and he’s killed five of his “minders” and he’s strong enough to break out of his chains, not to mention that he’s surrounded by weapons, why has he not escaped? A glint catches my eye and I realise he’s wearing metal cuffs around his wrists too, and another sense of familiarity strikes me. However, his cuffs have some sort ofsymbol etched into them, but I’m too far away to make it out. He reaches the flames and returns to making his swords.

Realising the conversation is over and I’ve survived, I back away into the small corridor to retrieve the cleaning equipment. I may have made it out of that interaction alive, but I’ve still got the guards to deal with, and I don’t doubt that they’ll follow through on Rodrick’s threat. I can’t hold it together anymore, and as I reach the alcove, I fall to my knees as my body shakes, adrenaline coursing through me, my breaths coming in fast, erratic pants as I try to control myself. Curling in on myself, I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to steady my breaths, inhaling deeply and holding it for five seconds before blowing it back out again. Over and over I repeat this until I feel more in control. I don’t cry, I don’t allow myself to shed any tears, but this has always been my way of coping when I get overwhelmed. It doesn’t tend to happen much anymore. I’ve seen too much as a slave and have become desensitised to things thatshouldmake me feel overwhelmed. I don’t know whether that’s something to be thankful for or not.

Once I’ve regained my composure, I pick myself up off the floor and grab a bucket. I spot a tap at the back of the alcove, so I make my way over to it. There’s no sink, simply a faucet and a drain in the ground. It makes me wonder where it leads to. Are there more rooms like this under the castle? It seems strange to put in a drainage system this deep down if it’s just for one room, especially seeing that the room contains a prisoner. However, I push these thoughts aside, considering they aren’t going to help me now. I need to focus on the job at hand. Filling the bucket, I reach for the mop, suppressing a sigh when I see that there’s no cleaning fluid or soap, which is going to make this task almost impossible. Turning off the tap, I lift the bucket and carry it back out to the room, looking around to find the best place to start. Hammering noises call my attention, and as I glance over myshoulder, I see the elf watching me behind hooded eyes. Shying away from his expression, I decide to start in the far corner, as far away as I can get from him. Carrying the bucket over to my chosen corner, I raise the mop and dunk it into the water and start scrubbing the floor. I groan when I lift the mop a few moments later, seeing the thick layer of brown sludge covering it. Glancing back down to the floor, I realise it’s just as dirty as it was when I started, if not worse. I’ve just managed to turn the dirt into mud. Rinsing the mop, I carry on, fighting against my growing despair as I only seem to be making more of a mess.

“What are you doing?” The clinking of the hammer against the anvil stops as he asks the question. He sounds frustrated, like he didn’t want to ask but he couldn’t help himself. Keeping my head down, I continue to mop the floor, hoping he will just accept my answer and go back to whatever he’s doing.

“I’m cleaning.”

A snort reaches my ears and this time I can’t stop myself from looking up at him. Our eyes meet for a second and I hold his gaze. I swear his eyes widen before he’s frowning again and staring at the floor I’m mopping. “No, you’re making a mess.”

As if I don’t already know that.Pulling my gaze from the elf, I return to the task at hand. After refilling my bucket of water several times and stubbornly scrubbing at the floor, I start to see the fruits of my labour. I realise that the floor is actually marble, beautiful white marble with veins of red coursing through the stone, but it was covered in so much dirt and dust that you couldn’t tell. What kind of prison has marble floors? The elf doesn’t talk to me again, but I feel his eyes on my back as I work, much like how I keep stealing glances of him as I walk to replace my water.

The squealing of rusty metal fills the room and I turn, realising they’re opening the door. I have no idea how long I’ve been down here, without any windows it’s difficult to tell thepassing of time. Two guards enter, holding up their crossbows as they walk in, their eyes scanning the room until they land on the elf. They position themselves on either side of me, their bows aimed at the elf who ignores them. A more senior-looking guard comes in, followed by two smiling goons behind him, and I realise that even had I managed to get the floor spotless, it was never going to be good enough. Looking down at the floor, he laughs and shakes his head.

“You call this clean? You’ve made it worse!” Shaking his head again, he turns and nods at the two guards who followed him in before leaving the room. The guards grin at each other before stalking towards me, violence lacing their features. Dropping the mop, I raise my hands to protect myself, realising too late that I could have used the mop as a weapon. The punch to my gut has me gasping in pain, dropping to my knees as a sharp pain rips through me. Once I’m on the floor, they go to town, their booted feet kicking at me until I’m gasping for air.

“Enough,” one of the guards holding a crossbow barks out, and I glance up at him as my attackers pause, seeing that he’s the guard who warned me before I came in. “The priest said only to mark her where no one would see. That’s enough or she won’t be able to walk.” So that was Rodrick’s plan, mark me where Grayson wouldn’t see. He obviously hasn’t banked on me having my own maid who would report everything to the high magician. My attackers smirk at me before striding out, leaving me in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Get up,” the kind guard orders, his crossbow still trained on the elf, who I’ve noticed has stopped working, his eyes boring into me.

With shaking limbs, I push up from the floor, not able to hold back the groan of pain as something in my chest shifts. I’ve broken ribs before, and I remember how painful it’d been, and I’m sure I’ve broken them again. The guards tense and I look upto see that the elf has taken a step forward, his eyes locking onto mine. We stay like that, our eyes fastened on each other, and it’s not until the other guard barks at me to move that I finally break eye contact, pushing up onto weak legs as a hiss of pain escapes my lips, then I start the painful walk back into the guard room.

Rodrick’s waiting for me, a gleeful smile on his face as he sees me limping toward him. He’d be handsome if it wasn’t for the sick gleam that’s always in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he simply gestures for me to start walking up the spiralling staircase. This nearly has me groaning out loud, exhaustion making my limbs heavy, my body screaming in pain. Each breath I take is excruciating, but I don’t want to be down here any longer than I have to be.

My world narrows down into forcing myself up the stairs, one foot at a time, each step agony, but I won’t let them win. I’ve lived through worse beatings than this before, and it’s not so much the physical pain, it’s the psychological aspect. The guards are very good at conducting a punishment in the most agonising way possible. They didn’t have to beat me in front of the elf, they could have easily taken me out into the underground room and done it there. It would have been safer for them, less time around the elf, but instead they did it as a message. To me, to him. The humiliation of being beaten in front of your sworn enemy, them demonstrating that you arenothing.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, we reach the top of the staircase, the priest pushing past me to open the door. If I’d had the energy, I would have pressed myself against the wall, avoiding as much physical contact with him as possible, but I feel drained, both physically and mentally. I barely remember the walk back to the chapel, moving on auto pilot until a flash of blue and gold catches my attention. Relief fills me and I collapse to the ground, exhaustion taking its toll.

“What in the underworld did you do to her?” Grayson demands, his voice furious, his magic pulsing out from him in response to his anger. Striding over, he kneels in front of me, touching my chin gently to bring my eyes up to him. Whatever he sees there seems to reassure him before he turns the full force of his fury on the priest.

“Ididn’t do anything,” Rodrick responds, as he faces off against the magician. His smile is easy, but his back is ramrod straight and there’s a tightness around his eyes that tells me he’s scared of the magician. Turning to face me, his smile turns sickeningly sweet. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,Clarissa.” Grayson growls at the way he emphasised my name, like it’s a curse word, but Rodrick is already leaving. Grayson continues to watch the priest walking away, but he glances over at me, his mask cracking a bit at whatever he sees.

“Are you okay?”

Am I? I hurt, I’m exhausted, but Rodrick hasn’t broken me, he hasn’t won. Nodding once, I try to shrug but can’t hide the wince that the movement causes. “Can we just go please?”

Frowning, Grayson nods and leads me back to his rooms in silence.

“Holy Mother!” The cursing has me glancing up, seeing Jayne in the reflection of the mirror staring at my back in horror.

As soon as we returned to Grayson’s rooms, I retired to the bathroom to clean up, the dress I’d been wearing was filthy from scrubbing floors all day. I’d been staring at myself in the mirror, trying to work out why I felt so different. I didn’t look any different than how I looked this morning, butsomethinghad changed. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, staring into mirrors and not recognising the reflection. Sighing, I’d just shook my head and attempted to undo my dress. Thankfully, Jayne had joined me shortly after and helped unbutton the back of the dress.

Dropping the fabric to the floor, I stand in only my underwear and examine the damage, which seems to be mainly focused on the right side of my stomach, although if Jayne’sreaction is anything to go by, I’m assuming my back is bruised too.

“Jayne, I’m fine, I’ve had worse beatings than this.” My voice is quiet but practical, no use wasting energy on being upset over something that’s already happened. I notice her eyes being drawn to the mass of old scars on my stomach as I speak, curiosity and sadness clear in her expression. She hasn’t asked me about them, and I’m not ready to tell her, not yet. Images flash through my mind—light glinting off a knife, pain, blood, maniacal laughter. Screwing my eyes shut, I push the memories away, focusing on my breathing again. I’m safe.Safe.

“I’m telling Grayson, this is disgusting. They can’t treat you like this,” Jayne blusters, throwing her hand in the air as she paces behind me, gesturing towards my bruised body. I don’t respond, just turning so I can see my side profile in the mirror and wince when I see the black and purple bruises marring my skin, wrapping around my side and up my back. I’m lucky they didn’t break any of my other bones. Grayson would have found out one way or another. “What did they have you doing?” she asks quietly, and I quickly meet her eyes in the mirror before pulling my gaze away just as swiftly.

“Just cleaning.” I keep my voice light, but I know I haven’t convinced her by the snorting noise she makes, and out the corner of my eye I can see her shaking her head as she watches me.

“I’ve left some clothing for you on the side, you should be able to dress yourself.” There’s a pause and I know she wants to say something. I turn to face her, watching her expression, but eventually she just shakes her head and smiles sadly. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

Finally alone, I let out the low groan I’ve been holding in, gripping onto the porcelain sink to help steady myself against the waves of pain that rack my body. I can hear voices outsidethe bathroom, they’re quiet, so I can’t tell what they’re saying, but I recognise Grayson’s deep tone. His voice raises in an exclamation and I have just a few seconds of warning before heavy footsteps stride to the bathroom and the door slams open.

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