Page 20 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
I just have to stay alive long enough to let him.
The door of my cell clanks and grinds open. A prickle of fear runs over my skin, and I straighten up, readying myself as much as the chains allow.
My mouth goes dry when a red-robed figure enters, a purple sash cutting through the crimson.
Sophos closes the cell door behind him and puts his arms behind his back. His tall, lean frame looms over me, the sweeping robes a stark contrast to the darkness of the cell. When he looks down at me, I’m reminded of a bird of prey deciding exactly how to stab the worm at its feet.
“Hello again, Morgana Angevire,” he says.
I stay silent even as I desperately try to figure out why he’s turned up here. Is this it? Has the time come for Caledon to kill me? Or has he changed his mind about letting me heal and decided to torture me some more?
A fizz of magic passes into my awareness and I stiffen, wondering what Sophos is trying to do. When I don’t suddenly double over in agonizing pain, I realize the bearer is using his sound magic not to hurt me, but to put a bubble of silence around the room.
That makes me only more wary, carefully watching Sophos examine the cell. His expression is cool and calculating. I remember that unnatural calm at the purge, right before he killed one of my friends.
“I only just learned they were holding you here,” he says. “Your escape attempt caused quite a stir. Menalus was a promising cleric.”
“Did you really just execute him for messing up? Or were you that desperate to find a fresh way to torture me?”
There’s a slight tightening in Sophos’s eyes I can’t read. “Bearer Tributin dealt with that situation. I imagine both factors were a consideration for him. However, it was I who asked them to remove Menalus’s body from your cell.”
His voice is emotionless, but he doesn’t exactly look pleased. I get the sense he doesn’t like his black-haired colleague very much, or his tactics.
“Menalus,” I say, repeating the name. “He was young. He just made a mistake.” I’m talking mostly to myself, still unable to process the cruelty of it.
“You’re disturbed by his death,” Sophos says, half statement, half question. I finally recognize the look in his eyes as curiosity. I don’t know why he’s standing around making small talk with me, but I’m too exhausted to be anything but honest right now.
“Now I’ve seen the Bastion and what you monsters do to the acolytes, I almost feel sorry for them,” I say wearily. “I certainly don’t want that cleric’s blood on my hands just because he happened to stand between me and freedom.”
Sophos nods, as if this confirms something for him, and shifts his arms in front of him. Instantly, my eyes fall to the smooth stump where his right hand used to be.
“Ah yes, my new battle scar,” he says, following my gaze. He doesn’t seem fazed by it, his tone resigned. Still, I sit up straighter when he looks back at me.
“I have the fae prince to thank for this,” he says, lifting his arm. “Leonidas Claerwyn is every bit as brutal in battle as the war stories claim.”
“I’m only sorry he didn’t finish the job,” I snap. I don’t care about angering the bearer—he’s going to do what he wants to me anyway. Maybe he’ll even hurt me as a way to take revenge on Leon.
But no, if Caledon wants me healed, Sophos wouldn’t defy him. He strikes me as too much of a rule follower for that.
“He was too busy protecting the rebel extremists to bother with killing me,” Sophos says matter-of-factly.
“And he’ll protect me too,” I say, searching for anything that might scare this man. If he’s seen Leon in action, the threat of his return might just do the trick. “He’ll come find me, and when he sees what you’ve all done to me, you’ll be praying to the gods that they take you before he gets his hands on you.”
Again, Sophos doesn’t respond how I expect. His eyesbrightenat my words.
“You really think the fae prince will come for you?” he asks, intrigued.
“I think he’ll tear this city apart one building at a time if that’s what it takes to get me back,” I say. And I believe it. Ever since I woke from my dream, my certainty has been growing. I haven’t seen Leon for the last time.
Sophos looks at me for a beat, then seems to make a decision.
“You underestimate the Grand Bearer, Miss Angevire,” he says. “His Grace is more powerful and clever than you could imagine. Certainly too strongand wise to be taken down by you and your friends, even if Leonidas Claerwyn did come for you.”
I scoff, disgusted by his blind loyalty.
“Wise? He’s a fucking fraud. He’s lying to all of you, and you just lap it up. You really think solari are heretics, and yet you’re worshipping at the feet of the biggest celestial magic user of them all.”
I’m ranting now, venting all my rage about Caledon’s manipulations. I don’t actually expect a reaction from Sophos. Surely, he’ll just brush my words aside like all the other clerics. But then he goes very still, and I feel a flare of fear, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far.
