Page 52 of Liar's Heart
I swallow the nausea down as best I can to ask, “So, what’s the deal? You lock Ender and me in here until he knocks me up?”
Alec’s head tilts as he thinks over his response. “You won’t be leaving this room until sometime after you give birth. But Ender? Well, let’s just say whether or not he joins us depends on a few different factors. If he’s alive and willing to finally play his part in this family, then I’d be willing to grant you that. But if not? It’s a good thing you’re my property too.”
“What do you meanifhe’s alive?” I ask, trying not to panic.
Alec turns to leave but calls back over his shoulder, “Let’s just say he’s being brought up to speed on his expectations as my heir and all the ways he’s been avoiding them these last few years.” Alec reaches the door, knocking to let the guard know to let him pass. Before the door opens, he gives me one last smile and says, “Rest up, Merrick. It’s going to be a long year.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
Cold water hits my body,instantly locking my muscles. I jerk on reflex, scraping my arm on the stone I’m lying on. It’s cold, and not just from the water. My face is fucking throbbing, both from Merrick’s punches and a massive headache. I force my eyes open, blinking away the sting behind them as I try to sit up and face the only source of light. It’s roughly door-shaped and so bright it takes me a second to catch the human-shaped silhouette standing in the middle of it. They’re walking toward me, pulling me to my knees and telling me to stay there before backing off and standing guard.
I chance a look around. The walls are all carved stone, just like the floor. No windows. A pallet and blanket sit against one wall, mostly cloaked in shadow. There’s only one way in and out: the door that the man I haven’t placed yet came through. The door that’s still open.
Lights slowly rise from the walls, and I see that there are sconces mounted at regular intervals. They look like the ones in our Aedis. And it’s cool in here, almost cold. I wonder if I’m there, locked in a cell underground somewhere in that cave system. I’ve never been to them, but I know they exist. Which wouldmean…
Tartarus. I'm in Tartarus. The Society's underground prison, guarded by Furies.
A figure fills the doorway, blocking out most of the light for a split second before they enter the room. Dark robes flit behind them as their shoes click on the stone. A gold mask conceals their features, their height and stature suggesting a man, but it’s hard to say with the generous cut of the robes. A Council member. When they speak, their voice is deep and masculine. “Ender Sinclair. I would say it’s a pleasure to see you again so soon, but, well, considering the circumstances, I think you’d disagree.”
I can feel myself swaying on my knees, threatening to topple forward. The last thing I remember was walking through the house, then… nothing. Wait, not nothing. Pain, blunt force trauma to the back of the head kind of pain, and then not much else.
Shit. Maybe I have a concussion.
I reach up to touch the back of my head, wincing to find it tender and matted with blood. “I had them patch you up,” the Councilman says. “There are some liquid stitches back there, so try to not touch it too much.”
I groan, the pain turning my stomach sour as I try to focus and stay upright. But I have to ask. I have to know. “Where is my wife?”
The gold mask looks down upon me, silent entirely too long for my liking. Finally,finally, he says, “Mrs. Sinclair is safe. And well taken care of. I believe your father is with her right now. He should be joining us once he's done, so you could ask him about her status. But I've been assured she is doing well.”
If he's coming from her to me, then maybe we're close? Maybe we're both here. Is she also in a cell? He must see the thoughts fly across my face because he adds, “Mrs. Sinclair is not free to leave her current accommodations, but she is being housed in the Binding Chamber.”
My whole body slackens in relief. She's here… somewhere. I know where she is but not whereIam, so even if I get out of this cell, good luck to me finding her. At least the Binding Chamber is an actual room with a real bed, heat, and plumbing. I can deal with the shitty conditions here as long as I know she isn't also in them. Temporarily appeased with his answers, I move to the next most pressing topic. “Why are we here?”
The gold mask doesn't move, giving it an eerie appearance, like it's floating in the darkness, the light’s still so dim. “Mrs. Sinclair is here for separate matters. You, my boy, are here because we need to have a little chat.”
Great. “Listen, if Alec?—”
He cuts me off. “Is only part of the issue at hand. The Council has noticed your absence in recent years. You're not pulling your weight as a Ferryman. Not showing any commitment to the Society as a whole, let alone what an heir should be. People have been whispering for years. Ever since that one incident… What was his name? The Ferryman you got your wife from?”
The words come out tight, scraped over cut glass. “Lennox Prescott.”
“Right.” He nods. “You've lacked devotion since his death. And we've given you quite a long leash, longer than most would be given, in hopes that maybe settling down and getting married would help show you the value of tradition. Of legacy and respect. Of that which is eternal.”
Shit. I should have known this was coming. My freedom didn’t exactly come easily, but I had been left alone for longer than I’d expected. And it felt too good to not take full advantage of, even if it would have been smarter to keep one foot on the ground and be more active with the Society. Made sure I was seen more. Taken a job every once in a while. I was an idiot to not question their silence more.
Now they have leverage against me. Now they can makeMerrick suffer until I dance to their tune. It’ll work too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe. Nothing. If it were only my life on the line, I’d fight back and let them take it. Even for Roman, who’d demand we both go down swinging. But I’d sell my soul over and over again for her. Only her.
And someone noticed.
The Councilman gestures toward the bed against the wall. “Why don't you have a seat while we wait. It looks like you put up quite the fight on the way here. No sense in adding to your discomfort.”
I'd rather be here, closer to the middle of the room, the door, than against a wall, but I need him to think I'm compliant, so I get up off the ground and deposit myself onto the mattress. It's thinner than I'd like but still better than I expected, so small victories, I guess. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I give myself a moment to brace my elbows on my knees and place my throbbing head in my hands. I feel no other cuts, mostly the same bruises, though the one on my left eye feels like it might be a little bigger. They must have knocked me out cold with the first hit. I don’t know whether to be grateful or pissed that it was that easy to take me down on my own turf.
By the time I lift my head back up, someone’s brought a chair for the Councilman and placed it in front of me before leaving again. He rounds the chair and sits, his robes settling into dark folds and puddles around his feet. Council members are supposed to be anonymous, their identities a closely guarded secret. They almost never appear publicly, giving their orders to others to carry out on their behalf. Succession is handled quietly and internally. It's not confirmed how many people the Council consists of, making it even harder to narrow down potential members. But there's something familiar about this one. Not directly familiar though. Maybe his speech pattern? Mannerisms?
Or maybe it's the concussion.
Either way, as I sit in silence staring at the gold mask, I can’t help but twist my wedding ring on my finger while panic slowly rises in me. It’s not a good thing a Council member is here. Not at all.
The door opens again, and Alec enters the room. It's taking all my self-control not to throttle the smug look right off his face. Or not ask about Merrick as soon as the door closes behind him. It's bad enough I already gave in and asked about her once. If I do it again, I'll show entirely too much of my hand, and the less they think they can hold over me, the better. I've done my fair share of torturing over the years to know the best bait you could ever dangle in front of someone is information. The less desperate I seem for it, the better off we both will be.
