Page 25 of The King has Fallen

“I know. And I’ve told him I’m sorry I hurt his hand—I meant it.”

“That means exactly nothing to me when you stand here armed—and at the cost of his official reprimand. The Sergeant will not be kind. He is a soldier, no matter his simple mind. He is expected to maintain a soldier’s conduct. He will be punished for this.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Not enough to give up the spear.”

I shook my head.

Melek snarled at me. “Fucking Fetch! I will take every welt on his hide out of yours.”

Shit. But I nodded.

The tent flap twitched then, and Gall rushed back in carrying a waterskin and a wooden cup.

He was beaming.

“Here you go, Yilan!”

He rushed straight to the cage door and pushed the waterskin through the gap in the bars, then leaned down to put his hand through the gap, holding the cup, so that he could sit it on the ground without tipping it over.

It would have taken a split second to grab that wrist, pull him against the bars and plunge the spear into his throat, and Melek and I both knew it.

I didn’t move.

“Drink! You need to drink if you haven’t had water. You’ll get weak without it.”

Melek dropped his face into his hand as his son plastered himself up against the bars, urging me to drink for my own protection.

“Perhaps you should step away from the bars, Gall?” I said carefully. “And then I’ll drink. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome!” he said brightly, then stepped back, blinking as he realized what he’d done. He rushed back to stand next to Melek, looking anxiously back and forth between us, clearly hoping Melek hadn’t noticed.

I waited until he was well away before moving to the door of the cage. Still holding the spear I picked up the waterskin by its neck, then the cup, before scuttling to the back of the cage again and squatting. Holding the spear across my thighs with my free hand, I hurriedly poured a full cup of water and drained it. Melek watched me, glaring but silent.

All too soon, after complimenting the boy on his care, Melek sighed and sent him to speak to the Sergeant.

“…I’m sorry, Son. But it’s a breach. If I don’t send you to him the others will hear of it and—”

“I know,” Gall said, his face sad and head down, jaw tight with frustration. “I wish I remembered things like that before they happened.”

Melek sighed and put a hand to his shoulder. “You will. The day will come, it will be instinct for you. I promise.”

I winced, all at once deeply grateful that my sister would never be expected to learn these kinds of restrictions, and deeply grieved that although Gall would learn most of the rules with time, he would likely never stop making small mistakes.

When Gall was gone, Melek turned away from me without a glance and prowled over to the upright crate at the side of the tent. He pulled a large bowl and pitcher out of a chest, and poured water into it, then began cleaning himself, then shaving in a small, speckled mirror that was hung from the tent pole.

I waited for his condemnation, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at me in the surface of the mirror. As if I wasn’t there.

When he was dressed and had strapped on his weapons, he started for the door.

“Why have him give me water?” I asked quickly before he reached it. “If you really wanted to torture me—”

“Because it is a job he won’t fuck up, which makes him feel good,” Melek ground out. Then he met my eyes over his shoulder. “And because it would kill you too quickly to go without it.” Then he smiled a wicked, predatory grin. “I will see you humble yourself, or suffer, Fetch. And I will swearthaton any god you choose.”

Then he snapped the tent flap aside and disappeared outside leaving me grieving… and hungry.

10. Soulless

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