Page 181 of Keeper of the Word
The path he’d chosen had brought on more hardships for everyone. And now there was no going back. No making amends.
A door swung open from down the corridor, and Tolvar braced himself for what was to come.
Forbearance, he promised himself.
He gave Jordain a deadlock glare.
In a matter of moments, Tolvar’s roar of agony filled everything. He clung to his fraying bravery, biting his tongue lest he should hawk out theword.The taste of iron filled his mouth. He grew dizzy until, blissfully, the Wolf could tolerate no more, and everything went black.
Tolvar knewhe was not a blessed man. He did not deserve to be. But when he opened his eyes and discerned the white room before wandering his gaze to Sloane, he laughed with joy.
’Tis an odd reaction for a man being tortured to death.
“Am I dead?”
Sloane shook her head.Why do you keep asking that?
“I cannot believe that my dreams would offer a vision so sweetin the middle of such nightmares.” He drank in her dark eyes, her delicate cheekbones. He had to remember her.
This is the last time,she spoke.
“Last time?”
Last time that I visit you here.
Tolvar leaned back his head, his eyes leaking tears.
You can do this.Her voice echoed.Use your faith. ’Tis stronger than you believe.Her close-lipped smile undid him.I wait for you.
He opened his eyes and bawled like a child on the floor of his cell.
He was comingto understand that not only was Jordain’s touch the worst agony he’d ever experienced, but that ’twas draining the life from him.
The Curse of Adrienne was the only explanation. He was certain of it, even sitting in the darkness. A blackened blot stained his wrist. He did not know how many hours had stretched into days and how many days had stretched into the eternal anguish he now lived through, but Tolvar’s routine had become simple. Sleep. Torture. Sleep. Torture. Eat moldy bread. Vomit. Drink what seemed like a thimble of water. Sleep. Torture. No longer did he pace or try to exercise his body. His mouth was constantly dry, and his stomach ate at itself.
Thewordheld fast inside him, though his tongue and the inside of his mouth were covered in ulcerations from where he’d bitten over and over again.
When he dreamed, ’twas in hellish night terrors in which he witnessed Crevan’s success of bringing down the light, Asalle as a place of evil, and every foul thing Tolvar could imagine.
But the Wolf was on the verge of breaking.
He did not stir from the cold, stone floor where he lay when he heard the door to his cell open.
Crevan sat on the bench. He was alone.
“I have come to talk some sense into you. Brother to brother.”
Tolvar did not move. “Just have your torture and be done with it so I may return to imagining you die in the worst way possible.” His voice was hoarse.
“No doubt you have envisioned some interesting deaths. Give me theword,Tolvar. What does it matter to you at this point?”
Tolvar had considered the same thought a few times. What did it matter? Especially if he was to die here?
It mattered.
“Give me theword,and I’ll relinquish Thorin Court back to you. You can spend the rest of your days there as earl. As Father wanted.”
Tolvar kept his gaze off Crevan.
