Page 27 of Marked By the Dark Lord
Warden Grolk was at his desk. The ogre was a beast of a man, matching my height but several times as wide in the stomach.His big, bulging eyes looked extra big and bulgy today. He squirmed as I entered, and when his eyes flicked downward for a split second, I understood.
“Harassing the prisoners again, Grolk?” I said with disgust, ignoring the soft sounds emanating from under the desk.
“What do you want, Lord Rokk?” Grolk asked sullenly. He used my full title—false as it may be, though he didn’t know it—but there was no respect in the voice. As warden of the prison, he was only a step or so below me on the power scale, so he didn’t feel the need to kowtow to the jury members as most others did.
“A human was brought in yesterday. Female. Very tiny. Blue eyes. Unlawful magic use. I need to see her.”
“Why?”
I stared at him. He stared back at first, his black irises overtly hostile. But we both knew he would cave, and soon enough, he did. Too eager to get back to the prisoner under his desk, I was sure.
“Fine, whatever. She just got sent to solitary for more magic use,” Grolk muttered, tossing me a key. “You know the way.”
I grabbed it and left him to his own devices as I headed into solitary.
It was time I got some answers.
Chapter Thirteen
Mila
By the time I could think straight again, the magic was gone, and the guards were busy shoving me into a shoebox standing on its side. There was barely enough room in the solitary cell to turn around. Lying down was out of the question, even for someone as small as me. Thankfully, I could wedge myself down with my knees against my chest and sit on the cold hard floor. Anyone else would have had to resort to standing.
“I’d like a hot towel and tea, please!” I called to nobody in particular. “Maybe some painkillers, too.”
My sides ached. Everything hurt, really, but I knew it would fade. It always did, the cuts scabbing over with astonishing rapidity and the bruises going through their healing cycle so fast that if I sat and watched for an hour, I could note the change happening.
But it still freaking hurt.
Body. Mind. Soul. I was run down. For the first time in a long time, the beatings were starting to get to me, affecting me mentally. But why? It wasn’t like I was unused to them. My parents got me accustomed to that life when I was a child. My earliest memories were of being slapped for crying. I was four? Five?
Then they just never came back when I was around eight. I didn’t really know how old I was. Birthdays were not a thing in my ‘family.’
I stared at my hands, almost wishing my parents were still around so that I could at least ask them about the weirdness. Could they use magic? Did they know what was going on with me?
If they were alive, though, I knew who I would target next. I frowned. The magic I’d used last night and then nearly again in the courtyard had been controlled byme. Impossible as it should be, it was.
So, what was that thing that killed the baker? That was no spell. It was most definitely alive.
I resisted thinking about Sarabeth and the others. I didn’t want to know if I was responsible for their deaths as well. Cowardly bullies they might have been, death wasn’t what I wished upon them. More misery, sure. Getting hit by a truck? I wouldn’t shed a tear. But I didn’t want to be the one who killed them.
You already have. You know what that thing meant about going after the others. You can’t deny it.
Maybe, maybe not. But there was nothing I could do about it in solitary confinement in a magical world I didn’t know existed until the day before.
A key inserted itself into the lock and turned it with a heavythunk.The door opened smoothly, admitting a wave of fresh air that carried a charcoal scent that burned pleasantly in my nostrils.
“Ah,” I said without looking up. “Finally. I hope you steeped the bag for long enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
I scrambled to my feet, all thoughts of towels and tea vanishing from my mind like snow before a warm sunny day.
“You,” I said, mouth drying out until it was more parched than the Sahara.
“You.”
It was him. The monster. He was there. At the door to my jail cell. There was nobody with him. We were alone, just the two of us.
