Page 140 of A Storm in Every Heart
Maybe if I can get just one hand free?—
A door creaks somewhere out of sight, and quick footsteps echo on the stone floor. I freeze, every muscle locked. A shadow grows closer, and falls across the table, just before a figure steps into the light. “Don’t struggle. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
My back goes straight, and I recoil in shock. “Magnus.”
He’s taller than I remember, but otherwise the same. Blonde hair, cold eyes, and an almost kind smile that hides what an evil bastard he is.
“That’s King Magnus, now,” he says, walking closer. “It’s been a long time, Kastian. I admit I was surprised to hear you escaped Dyaspora and even more surprised to learn you risked crossing my border. You should have stayed in Vernallis. I might never have realized you were there.”
I grit my teeth and sneer at him. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Tell me where Odessa is!”
He looks annoyed—tired, even—and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Both of you are so annoyingly single-minded. Shouldn’t you be more concerned withyourselfat the moment?”
“Tell me where she is.”
He rolls his eyes. “Where’s Kastian? Take me to Kastian,” he mimics Odessa’s high voice, then drops his voice low in some gravelly imitation of me. “Take me to Odessa. Tell me where she is!”
“I didn’t realize you were interested in theater,” I snap.
“You’re both so painfully boring and predictable. You know, at first, I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t remember you beingstupid—a little naïve maybe, but not as much of a fucking imbecile as your father was. I kept asking myself why you would ever risk coming back here, but then I remembered how obsessed you were with the little siren, and suddenly it all made sense.”
Anger burns in my chest, but I don’t rise to the bait. One thing I remember about Magnus is that he always liked to hear himself talk. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I grind out.
He scoffs. “There’s no need to try to protect her. I already have Odessa taken care of upstairs.”
Upstairs. So she’s in the castle, and I’m beneath it—or at least close by. Not that knowing that does shit to help me.
“No more questions?” Magnus asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Have you given up on her already? That’s probably for the best.” He stoops low, his mouth near my ear. “Do you think she’ll wonder if you’re still looking for her when I’m fucking her tonight? Or do you think she’s already accepted that you’re dead?”
White, fiery rage blurs my vision, and I try again to sit up, yanking my wrists so hard that the bindings slice through my skin. “If you fucking touch her?—”
Magnus snorts. “Oh, I’m going to touch her, but that’s not what you should be worried about. You should ask yourself why you’re still alive and what I’m going to make her do to keep you that way.”
The blinding fury inside me seems to burn even hotter, and a blue haze clouds my mind. I force myself to keep my face blank, but inside, I’m burning alive.
I’m not scared of Magnus—never have been—but the thought of what he could force Odessa to do, who he’d make her become just to keep me alive, chills my bones.
Magnus paces around to the foot of the table and stops. He pulls something out of the pocket of his green velvet jacket andtwirls it between his fingers. For a moment I think it’s a knife, but then he leans further into the torchlight, and I see that it’s a glass syringe with clear liquid inside.
“What the fuck is that?” I demand.
He rolls his eyes again. “So direct, like you just expect answers to all your questions without even having to work for it. Your father was the same way.”
Since leaving Dyaspora, I learned my father didn’t die along with my mother and sisters. Magnus kept him alive, and allegedly tortured him for months—years, maybe—as a warning to anyone who opposed the coup.
I stiffen, and a cold certainty washes over me. Whatever Magnus is about to do to me is likely the exact thing that killed my father.
Magnus holds up his long needle, flicking the barrel of the syringe so a bead of liquid stands at the tip. He tilts his head as if considering a painting, then finds a vein on my arm and presses with his thumb, hard enough to leave a bruise. “I wish I could say this won’t hurt…”
The needle slides into my skin, and for a brief, foolish second I think it’s not working, but then the fire starts. First it burns within my arm, then races up through my shoulder into my chest. I try to keep my mouth closed, try to stay silent, but almost immediately a shout breaks free. I yell in agony as my body arches of its own accord, jerking against the table so hard, I wonder for a moment if the restraints on my arms and legs will break.
I pass out before I get a chance to find out.
When I wake up for the second time, all I’m aware of ispain.
