Page 17 of Blood Red Woes

Aolia retakes her seat, a resigned look on her face. Ravenno taps his armrest in an annoyed manner. The other woman, however, addresses Hazor: “Be that as it may, Hazor, even if we are all that is left of Laconia, we must do our best to carry on, to make sure our empresses’ legacies survive.”

“Okay,” I say, causing all four pairs of eyes to look at me. “It feels like you guys need to do a bit of soul-searching. Why don’t you let me go and then do that? I won’t cause any trouble, I promise.”

Ravenno hisses as he points at me, “Words of a demon. Do you think we will fall for your lies and trust you implicitly? Youwalk through the outer doors and speak of the scourge as if it is nothing to you. You cannot be allowed to wander our streets.”

Hazor nods with him. “You will be locked up while we discuss amongst ourselves what to do with you. Kretia, do you agree?” The first woman gives her agreement.

My heart skips a beat. “What? No. No, you can’t lock me up. I’m not a demon—” My words fall on deaf ears, and I stop arguing when I see the two women agree with Havor and Ravenno. The entire panel finds me guilty.

Great.

The guards that stuck around swarm me, and their matching uniforms are all I can see as I’m freed from the floor and pulled along. I’m practically dragged from the room, every single eye in the place on me, be it from the four who judged me or the audience that had gathered to watch. No one lifts a finger to help me.

And why would they? I’m a stranger to them. I’m sure I look just as ridiculous to them as their fancy costumes look to me.

As it turns out, Laconia has a prison. Tiny cells made of thick stone blocks. The only bit of light that shines through comes from a teeny, tiny window about twelve feet above the ground. Bars of iron line the window—but even if there were no bars, it’s unreachable and way too tiny to squeeze through. The door to each cell is a thick chunk of wood. The only furniture to keep my company is a bedframe with some hay on it along with a bucket for… you know.

The guards unlock me from the chains before shoving me in, so at least there’s that. Still, I don’t have anything to go on. I’m pretty much fucked, unless those four people decide to change their minds about me.

And if they don’t? What will happen? Will they execute me? Shit.Then I’ll have no choice but to use magic to get my ass out of here.

I may not be a know it all, but there is one thing I know with all of my heart.

I don’t want to die here.

Chapter Six

After a while, I end up curled on the uncomfortable, semi-scratchy bed, facing the stone wall. Hours go by; I can tell by the way the sun no longer shines through the small window over my head. It’s dark outside now, and I’m fucking starving.

What’s worse? I had to use the bucket.

“It’s so weird everyone here speaks English,” I whisper.

The arm with the tattoo rests right in front of my face, and the black color flickers with gold when Rune answers me, breaking his silence, “English? Is this the language you speak? They speak Laconian. Perhaps you can understand them for the same reason I understand you. We are connected.” At least he whispers. I still don’t know if others would be able to hear him or not. It’s not something I’m willing to put to the test.

Whatever. I guess it’s as good of an explanation as any, given how weird everything else is.

“I can’t stay here,” I tell him. I didn’t want to use magic in front of all of these people, not with the fact that only their empresses can do magic. The ex-wizard attached to my wrist is evidence enough of what happens when someone tries to stand up to them. Those empresses might not be here, but it sounds like those people on that jury follow them still—except that guy all the way on the right, with the lion symbol on his chest.

“No, you can’t,” Rune agrees. “But if you break out of here with magic, they’ll know.”

“At this point, what does it matter? It’s obvious they’re not going to help me.”

“True enough, but we have to be smart about this. Magic is still new to you; you are not practiced. Do you truly think you could go against every single guard in Laconia? Once theymobilize against you, they will stand between you and wherever you want to go.”

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “You’re right.” Minutes pass before I ask this next question. “How many empresses are there?” During our journey here, before the whole dragon-slash-shadowstorm thing, we didn’t talk much about Laconia or how it all worked. I didn’t want to know. I stupidly thought I’d be able to find a way back home and therefore none of it mattered to me.

But seeing as though I might be stuck here for a while, I might as well know a few things.

“There are three. Empress Morimento rules Acadia. It is the southern and eastern regions of Laconia, the largest by far. A land of fair judgment. Then there is Pylos to the north. A hard, mountainous region, unwelcoming to most, the land of mountains and mist. Pylos is rules by Empress Gladus. And, finally, there is Magnysia.”

“Where I woke up in the forest,” I say.

“Yes. Magnysia is known for its forests. It is ruled by Empress Krotas—or it used to be. It sounded as though these people have not left the walls of the city in years. Perhaps things have changed and the empresses no longer rule.”

“Because of the shadowstorms.”

“The shadowstorms and the blight. It seems the land of Laconia has fallen upon hard times since I last saw it.” He almost sounds wistful, and it makes me wonder just how long he’s been inside that crystal.

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