Page 171 of Once the Skies Fade

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could utter any sound, he vanished, leaving me alone again with only my tears and my dark dread.

“I’ll find you, Matthias,” I whispered to the empty forest.

Chapter 78

Matthias

I’d seen her—I’d finally seen her—and I only managed one word, one step closer, before I was violently ripped from the dream with a splash of cold mountain water in my face. I spluttered, shaking my head and silently cursing this painful reality I’d been thrust back to.

Graham’s rank scent of sweat and dirt chased away any relief I’d found in that brief amount of sleep. “Wakey, wakey, general. You’ll have plenty of time with your mate when you’re both dead. For now, though, I need you to stay with me.”

I had no energy to respond, and he almost seemed disappointed when I merely blinked at him. Shrugging, he started whistling as he walked slowly around me. When his knife dug into my flesh again, I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the image of Calla to my mind to help me endure. By the time he cut away the last bit of tattooed skin from my back, my hands had lost all feeling, my arms ached, and my legs wavered, each one buckling in turn as they struggled to hold me upright.

I tried to mentally prepare for spending the next several hours—if not days—in this position, wondering how long it would take for my legs to give out completely and my shoulders to slip out of place. Directing all my energy toward keeping myfeet under me, I let my head drift down, but struggled not to close my eyes lest I lose my balance. Graham appeared in front of me, but I was too exhausted to worry about where he’d strike next. Faintly aware that he was reaching up to the chain above my head, I still didn’t expect him to actually unlock my cuffs and let my arms slump down between us.

The sudden shift in weight sent my legs caving, and sleep—blissful but unfortunately dreamless—took me before I ever hit the ground.

How long I was out, I didn’t know, but a friendly kick between my shoulder blades, directly onto the slow-to-heal wound, roused me from my slumber. The cold stone floor bit into my bare shoulder, and it took me several breaths to realize I was lying on the ground. A small twist of my wrists produced the now-familiar clink of my chains.

“On your feet,” Graham ordered. When I didn’t oblige quickly enough, he snatched my arm and yanked me up to sitting, though my body immediately tried to crumple back down when he let go. He tried to haul me back up, and his growls of exertion soon gave way to muttered curses. I could have sworn he mentioned Alek and the word human at some point in his private tirade.

My eyes refused to stay open, and when he slapped me again, I was back in the center of the room with my hands once again secured to that fucking chain. Before I was ready—as if that was even possible—he pulled out his knife and resumed carving up the rest of my back, like some masochistic painter creating a bloody work of art with me as his canvas.

I forced myself to swallow every pained sound my body wanted to release, and as time passed—by some small miracle—each sweep of his blade began to blend into the next one until their sting faded into the background of my consciousness. Graham must have noticed my body relax, though, because hepaused. I braced myself for the impact—whether from fist or his knife—but instead the metal of his knife was replaced by a dry cloth. He dragged it across my skin, wiping away the blood and grating at the fresh incisions until I sucked in a sharp breath that whistled through my clenched teeth.

As if my body suddenly remembered where I was and what was happening, my legs, barely holding me upright as it was, started to shake. Despite the frigid air inside the cavern, sweat beaded along my forehead, trickling into my eyes and down along my nose. My attempts to wipe it away on my arms helped minimally.

“Hanging in there?” Graham asked, his tone light like he was asking if I wanted another macaron.

An agonizingly dry cough erupted from my throat.

“Not much else to do around here,” I rasped.

He chuckled quietly as he walked away, coming back moments later. My body jerked away from him as he dabbed something onto my wounds. Its scent reminded me of the healers’ infirmary, though not nearly as pungent, meaning it was probably less than fresh. If the bastard was taking the time to heal my wounds, it wasn’t out of any goodness in his deranged heart. More likely he was drawing out the pain, making it last as long as possible, like a lover who eases away right as you reach the fucking precipice.

Graham hummed—almost cheerfully—as he applied the salve.

“Is that poisoned by chance?” His face appeared from around my arm, and I flinched, nearly choking on my next breath.

“Why? Are you hoping for death already?” he asked beneath raised brows.

“Just wondering if you understand how this whole torture thing is supposed to work.”

Graham’s dark laugh filled the room. Returning to his task, he continued smearing the medicine over my wounds, albeit not quite as gently as before.

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you,general.”

“Neither does having my back used for whittling, yet here we are.”

Graham didn’t respond, but at least he ceased that infernal humming.

Chapter 79

Calla

Igot no more sleep that night but lay awake, staring at the ceiling above my bed for hours and trying not to imagine all the ghastly things Graham—or the humans—could be doing to Matthias. The only thing holding me together, keeping me from completely falling apart, was the assurance my mate was still alive. As long as he was still breathing, I still had time; though how much, I couldn’t know.

The sky outside had barely lightened when Isa showed up looking as though she hadn’t slept much either. We spent the entire next morning and afternoon back on that stairway, taking our meals under the sunshine like we used to when we were younger and life wasn’t quite so depressing and complicated.

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