Page 107 of Healer to the Ash King
That knowledge is almost more than I can bear. Almost enough to make me wish I had killed Perish… no. No, no, never that. No matter how furious he is with me, he’salive, because of me, and that is a tiny flame of triumph in my heart.
Two burly women stand nearby, ready to intervene if the two prisoners try to escape. My father and mother don’t speak to me, but their tearful eyes tell me all I need to know. They love me. They don’t blame me for this.
I have to save them.
“Please let them go,” I tell the red-haired man. “I did what you asked. The King is dead.”
He taps a finger to his mouth. “Yes. You told Rince you killed the Ass King—forgive me, I believe you call him the ‘Ash King.’ We’ve a different name for here.” He chuckles. “But it’s been a few hours since you were brought to me, and we’ve received no such reports. No confirmation. Do you want to know what I think, gorgeous? I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“So you believe in the cause then? You fully support the defeat of the monarchy and the uplifting of a new order in its place?”
“Of course I do.”
“Interesting, interesting. Because Rince told me a story when he brought you here—something you told him, I believe. Some royal propaganda the Ass King stuffed into your head while he was stuffing your holes.” He winks and chucks my chin. “Seems as if you believed that shitload of lies about what happened in the Ashlands, and you were trying to get Rince to believe it too. But he’s smarter than that, you see. Rince is a faithful believer, a loyal defender of the true Bolcan. He can’t be swayed by the lies of royals and nobles.”
“That’s because you’ve soaked his brain in your radicalism,” I snap. “You’ve turned his passion for our kingdom into something foul and self-destructive.”
The anarchist leader clicks his tongue, stroking my hair as one might pet a child. “From village wielder to whore of the King. Quite a climb, little one. But you’re wading in waters too deep for you.”
Quick as thought, he twists his hand, and his gentle petting turns into a searingly painful death-grip on my hair.
My mother whimpers quietly, then cringes as one of her guards takes a threatening step forward.
“Triniden.” It’s Rince’s voice, velvety as ever, threaded with concern. He walks forward from a shadowed corner. Behind him stands Brayda, her scarred face tight and emotionless. If she cares about my fate, she doesn’t show it.
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt her.” Rince’s handsome features are taut, his eyes pleading.
“And I won’t, if she can provide proof that the Ass King is dead,” Triniden says softly. He tightens his grip until I whimper, leans down until his hot breath fills my ear. “Can you provide proof, little whore? How exactly did you kill the King?”
“I—I cut his throat.”
“Did you now? And walked away without a speck of blood on you? Without raising any alarms? You simply cut his throat and walked out of the palace? You hear that, everyone?”
Disbelieving laughter ripples around the room.
Heartsfire. I shouldn’t have chosen throat-cutting as the lie. There’s no use trying to fool him now. “Fine. I didn’t kill the King. Punish me, and let my parents go. Please.”
“But Cailin, I can’t let you go.” Triniden gives me a little shake and lowers his voice, speaking with confidential cheerfulness. “I’m very angry with you. Because of you, the Ass King has my lover and my unborn child.”
“Your child?” I gasp. “You mean—Khloe—and you?”
“Yes.” His voice drops lower. “You see, the Ass King and I have one thing in common. We both know that the best way to ensure a woman’s loyalty is to fuck her, and keep fucking her. And if you want to hold her loyalty for years, you go one step further and breed her. That’s what I did with sweet little Khloe. I want her back, her and that baby. They’re mine. I’ll be damned if I let the fucking Ass King have them.”
“You could trade me for them,” I whisper. “The Ash King cares about me. He’ll make a deal. And I’ll cooperate, if you let my parents go.”
“You think he cares about you? Oh. Oh, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He laughs, releasing my hair. “You’ll cooperate either way. I don’t need to trade you. We’ve got people who are skilled at prison breaks. Isn’t that right, Wirtun?”
A figure nearby turns from the box he’s packing, and my stomach drops. It’s the man I healed in the torture room. The Cheimhold spy. His mouth presses tighter as he looks at me, but he only nods to Triniden.
“See? We got Wirtun out of the King’s prison. Had to, because he’d collected too much helpful information to be left festering in there.”
“Information you plan to pass along to Cheimhold?” I say loudly. “That’s where he’s from, isn’t he?”
Several of the rebels turn, startled, and Triniden smiles widely at them, shaking his head. “No, he’s not. She’s lying. It’s all her whore mouth is good for, besides the Ass King’s cock.”
“The Ash King himself said Wirtun was a Cheimhold spy,” I continue, still loudly enough for the others to hear. “So either Wirtun confessed falsely under torture, or he toldthe truthunder torture. If it’s the truth, Wirtun fooled you into thinking he’s from Bolcan.” I stare hard at Triniden. “That, or you knew of his ties to Cheimhold all along, and you didn’t tell your people.”
