Page 70 of The Eternal Mirror
The guard on my left unlocks the door. They heft me inside and lower me gently to the floor. It’s the first sign of kindness I’ve seen from them, and maybe an indication that I’m not seen as enemy number one around here.
However, I’m guessing that however much they dislike some of Khronus’s more extreme actions, they won’t go against him, whether through belief in him or fear—I’m betting on the latter—I don’t know.
Neither of them speaks, and neither do I. I need to appear broken—or rather, more broken than I actually am. It’s part of the cunning plan. I lie there as the door slams shut behind them, the lock clicking with a finality that echoes in my bones.
I stay still for a moment, just breathing, just appreciating the fact that I’m still alive.
But finally, I know I have to move, take stock.
The first thing I notice is how hot the room is. And not in a nice day-at-the-beach kind of way. It’s the kind of hot that clings to your skin like sweat-drenched guilt and makes your eyeballs consider staging a revolt.
I’m lying with my cheek resting on what I presume is straw, and from the smell, not particularly clean straw. Forcing my hands under me, I push up slightly and take a deep breath. I immediately regret it. The air smells like rotten rust, with a tinge of old blood and the sour stench of urine.
The floor has a layer of thinly scattered straw; through it, I can see the stone, slick in places—and I don’t want to think too hard about what it’s slick with. There’s a drain in the center of the room. It’s stained black.
I have a gag reflex at the thoughtof that.
There’s no obvious light source, but the place glows with a faint, sickly green. The walls are dark stone, like the floor, with chains hanging at regular intervals.
At least I’m not chained; I can move around within my little cubicle. See? I’m thinking positively.
Not surprisingly, the place reminds me of the cell I rescued Khaosti from all those weeks ago. Except it’s not quite so smelly. Yet.
Finally, I push myself up, every muscle screaming, and drag myself a few feet across the floor so I can rest my back against the wall.
All right, that’s enough self-pity for one day.
I close my eyes and draw up the magic. It’s sluggish in this place, as if the air’s soaked in spells designed to smother—but it’s still there. Still mine.
I press my hands to my ribs, to my bruised cheek, to the hollow ache in my belly. Magic trickles through me, pale gold and shaky, but it’s enough. It knits the damage. Knits me. Not perfectly, but I don’t need perfect. I need functional.
“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” A voice whispers through the bars of the cell door.
Khaosti.
Of course.
I lean my head back, eyes closed. “I thought I told you not to talk,” I say. “You’re not supposed to do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“And you’re not supposed to be getting punched by my father’s guards,” he counters. “Besides, they’re gone. There’s no one to hear me. Except you—and know this, they will die before this is over.”
“I didn’t want to be punched. But I didn’t see a lot of options.”
Silence. Then, “I wanted to kill him,” he says softly.
“But you didn’t. Hey, you’re learning restraint. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” I sigh. “I wanted to kill him too.”
Then he asks, “Did he break anything?”
I let out a tired breath. “Nothing a healing spell couldn’t fix. I’m good. I promise. I’m just not too keen on the accommodations.”
Hopefully, I won’t have time to get used to them. With luck, Khronus is just flexing his muscles, making a point. Or maybe he’s waiting for something. I just wish I knew what.
“Why can’t we kill him?” Khaos asks softly. “Why don’t I get you out of here, and together we go kill my father? He might be immortal, but he can still die.”
I wish it was that easy. But it isn’t. “We can’t. At least I’m pretty sure we can’t—like ninety-five percent sure. He’s warded with some really powerful dark magic.” I’m guessing powered by the magic he drained from the witches. He’s been doing it for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. So much magic.
“So what can we do?” Khaosti asks. “I take it you have a plan. What happens now?”
