Page 6 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
The Viper slithered up to the outside of his dungeon’s wrought iron doors, fiddling with the lock. He pricked the end of his finger with a dagger, dropping a few bits of blood on the golden key to the door. Blood. It was the only thing that seemed to open the creaking entry to the cell he was bound to. Once Khalid entered the cell, he crouched down, meeting deep ebony eyes with Ander's. Smells of fish and amber liquor floated out of his mouth as he rasped, “Have you thought about our arrangement, boy? It won’t be long until my men have found your beloved Katrin, but if you tell us now maybe I can spare her the same…how should I say…fate, as last time.”
Ander had barely enough left in him to spit in the king's face, but he did. “If you put one hand on her, it will be the last time youever use it.” He heaved, choking on his own words, wishing he had sipped more of the water they had left him even if it was not pure. “You may hurt me, strip skin and flesh from my body, sear fire into my bones, but you willnevertouch her again.” Baring his teeth, a little glimmer of silver lit in his eyes, dimming out a moment later.
The Viper recoiled just slightly from him, noting the bit of power that still yearned to get out. “And how, exactly, do you expect to make good on your threat, boy, when you’re dead?” A fist landed across Ander's jaw, trickles of blood cascading over his lip and down his neck.
Their visits always started this way, with the sound of bones cracking. His jaw. His arm. His rib. It was all the same. Ander only needed to turn it off—that pain and torment. For it was all fleeting. They would get bored once more and give him some tonic to heal his cuts and burns and bruises enough so that they could start new the next day. But not enough that a lingering throb didn't haunt him when he was alone in the darkness.
King Edmund stepped up, sharpening a narrow, flat blade against stone. His stringy, blonde hair was plastered to his face and a light glimmer of sweat coated his skin. Usually blue eyes were completely absorbed by a blackened sheen. He muttered words low under his breath, before slicing the blade against his palm. A golden glow radiated off the blade and a faint humming filled the dungeon. It was quiet at first, athump, thump, thumping,growing with every beat until it sounded like a war drum echoing in the distance.
Walking over to the wall which chained Ander, King Athanas unhooked an attached rope and pulled until the prince was flat across the wall. A lever on the side of the restraints was pulleddown, kicking off a series of cranks that flipped the wall back into a stone table. Salt water and dirt dripped from the crevices in the stone above, landing in Ander's eyes and on his now broken jaw.
Pulling against the chains, Ander tried to break their hold once more. If he could only get one hand out, maybe enough of his power would rise up so that he could land a blow on the two kings. Fill their lungs with mist until they pass out from the lack of air. He could feel the holds slipping, his wrists thinner from the lack of nourishment. Perhaps the water that trickled down from the ceiling could help him slide—
“Well, Alexander, what should we take first today?” King Athanas's eyes washed over with that same misty black as he took a seat on a stool beside the table, reaching out and grabbing the wrist Ander attempted to free.
A wooden tray lay on a smaller table that had extended out of the same stone, covered in other knives, pokers, and daggers the two kings had used the last few days. Some were sharpened and glistening and took off a thin layer of skin. Some were rusted and coated with blood, meant to scrape out larger chunks of flesh, leaving infection in their wake.
King Edmund's raspy voice echoed off the dungeon walls. “The fingers are so mundane, but they really do the trick.” He gripped Ander's other wrist tightly, hooking a piece of rope through an attachment on the golden cuffs, pinning his hand to the side of the table. Blood seeped from Ander's skin as he held in a scream the two king's desperately longed for. A sign their methods were working. The golden-hued knife sliced from the center of his pointer finger’s nail bed all the way down to his last knuckle. What blooddid not coat his skin seemed to sizzle and absorb back into the blade, causing that drumming to get louder and louder.
The wicked king took his time, slicing each finger on his left hand and then his right. Ander clenched his jaw the entire time, beads of sweat forming around his temple and jaw.They will not break me. Each cut is worth it. Each slice is worth her being safe.His seated eyes glazed over as he dug as deep as he could. Then the knife was swapped for another tool, one that clamped down on his first nail and held tight. A low hiss escaped through Ander's lips as the king began to pull, ripping nail from flesh.
“Not so strong are you now? What a weak excuse for a god,” King Athanas laughed in the corner, spinning the golden rings that lined his fingers.
King Edmund grasped onto the next nail, pulling quickly. This time, Ander could not hold back his scream. Howling laughter came from the blonde king. “That's it, boy, let it all out.” There was a shared sense of joy between King Edmund and King Athanas, removing each nail from Ander's skin until only stubs of flesh were left in their place.
After hours of torment, King Edmund put the tools away, uncorking a deep mahogany vile, forcing a searing liquid down Ander's throat. Fire caught in his veins, threading out to every piece of him that had been ripped apart, willing his very flesh and bones to stitch themselves back together, regenerate and regrow. Then King Athanas struck his ring-covered fist across Ander's eye and jaw and nose once more. A process repeated well into the night.
“Tell us where your ship has escaped to and this can all be over.”King Edmund bent down and his heated breath cascaded over Ander's ear. “Is she really worth all this?”
With what little strength the prince had left, he turned his head toward the king, meeting those jet-black orbs. “Always.”
Chapter Five
Ajax
Cards was one of the single times of the day Ajax could relax—could let the stress of the daunting duties of a spymaster slink away to nothingness. He could shut off his brain and let the chips fall from his purse. Gamble away his thoughts in exchange for the honor of beating his fellow soldiers, or—for the foreseeable future—crewmates. Because Ajax always won. Which is why the sweat that built along his neck and the incessant bouncing of his leg was unheard of.
Ajax was down to his last few coins. All because ofher.
In all the time Ajax had known Ember, he’d never once seen her play cards. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the princess had dabbled in gambling before she traded gowns for the leatheruniform of the Spartanis. She had never snuck down to the barracks to bet her coin against the men and women that made up her soldiers, but why would that mean that the many men of court who tried to woo her had not escorted her down to the exclusive gambling houses in the markets of Alentus?
Ember was ferocious.
Deadly.
A mastermind with not a tell in sight.
He had never seen someone with such a straight face and the innate ability to outsmart men twice her age with little to nothing in her actual hand. Was it justEleusisthat she dominated, or perhaps had she learned the tricks of other games? Regardless, she had somehow found the secret rules of the dealer every single game. It caused Ajax’s blood to boil and his skin to heat every single time, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of jealousy or pride over the princess who constantly proved men wrong.
Or it simply could have been that the seer was the dealer. Maybe the two women were in league with each other to steal not only his money, but the other unexpecting crew’s as well. Ajax couldn’t help the flutter in his heart or the upward tilt of his lips at the thought.
This hand, however, Ember had seemed to falter. That is, until Ajax thought he’d figured out Thalia’s secret pairing rule and had failed miserably.Afterhe had already slid his last few coins into the center of the table.
“The men all cheer for you? So quickly? Am I to expect they would take orders in battle from you before me as well?” He laughed, but his jaw tightened. He wanted that for her—truly—but it was another slice of the blade to his confidence.After all he had sacrificed as a spymaster, the men aboard this ship seemed to keep him at arm’s length.
“I think you underestimate me, Commander. Most men find me irresistible to follow.” Ember’s light voice hung in the air as if it was sucking the very oxygen from his lungs.
Reaching out his hand, Ajax grazed his thumb along her cheek until he reached her chin, titling it toward him, locking his gaze with hers. “I have never underestimated you, Drakos.”
