Page 95 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
“They will wait if I tell them to.”
“Sorry, sire, but we must take them in the clothes they wore to the banquet. Orders of the trial council.”
If they picked up on that, what else had they heard before she and Zarathos knew they were outside the door? Worry pricked her skin.
Cursed demon hearing, but Zarathos’s jaw merely clenched in defiance. She pictured the other kalators being taken in their scraps of clothing. “I’ll be fine.”
She stood, nerves coursing through her, but not for her. If the second trials were this close, how would Zarathos fare without her? He was lying on the bed, barely able to move after a seizure, for god’s sake.
Whatever the challenge was, she’d have to make it through quickly to reach Zarathos’s side. Both their lives depended on it.
As she walked to the door, her gaze fell to the fireplace mantle. On it rested the sheathed dagger she’d retrieved from the first trial. She extended her hand and snagged it, slipping it between her breasts before she approached the door and opened it. Stepping out, she snapped it firmly shut behind her. “I’m here.”
Two guards held her arms as if she were a criminal who could escape at any second, and pulled her through the hallways.
The castle’s stone halls hummed with a chilling stillness as the guards, their black armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight, dragged her toward the dungeon. Her torn and soiled gown trailed behind her like a shroud, while her hair clung to her face in a haunting mess. Her bare feet scraped across the harsh stone floor. The distant clinking of chains seemed to echo from the dungeon’s depths, andas they shoved her into the cell, the air grew thick with the scent of decay and the whisper of forgotten horrors.
She nodded to Pohan, Jesir and Neri.
“So glad you could finally join us,” Neri said, remaining hunched over and avoiding eye contact.
Jesir cast Neri a worried glance. “Tigon comes and takes her for a few hours every day and she returns each time with a few more bruises.”
Aryana’s shoulders fell, and she gripped the bars, taking in the others, beaten and bleeding, covered in too many welts and scars to count. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve gone through,” she whispered, mostly to Neri but the others as well.
The cell had a dank and moist atmosphere, so unlike the pleasant, comforting familiarity she had become accustomed to in Zarathos’s chambers. He’d even brought her a loom to occupy her time. In the meantime, the rest of the kalators had wasted away in these horrid conditions. How could she have not realized everything Zarathos had done for her?
With a quick glance to see that no guards were watching, she pulled the sheathed dagger from between her breasts and reached through the bars. “Neri,” she whispered.
It wasn’t much, but at least it might be of use if the human wound up in danger. Neri’s eye widened, and Pohan swiftly passed the weapon over. She hid it in her clothes just as the guard turned to come toward them.
“Eat the bread.” The demon guard thrust it toward her and Aryana eyed it, apprehensive. It was the same bread she had eatenwith Zarathos and Pohan that allowed her to communicate. But this time, it was much bigger. Instead of a small portion, it was an entire slice the size of her palm. What would a piece that large do to her? But she knew better than to refuse and obediently accepted it. She took a bite and chewed.
“Eat all of it,” the guard snarled. Aryana noticed the guards handing out the bread to each of the kalators. Most of them ate it right away, and she wondered how often they were fed. She exhaled and forced herself to consume the entire slice of bread in her hand.
The guards shouted to each other. “Take the rest of this bread, break it in half and add it to those being distributed to the crowds. Make sure no one gets a full slice, that’s only for our kalator friends here. Oh, and grab the human.”
Nerves gripped Aryana as she watched them open the cage and pull Neri out like they had the first trial. Of course, they wanted to knock out the demons, but Neri was human. Belladonna didn’t have that effect on her, so they must render her unconscious another way.
A guard walked over to the chain. Pressed a cloth to his mouth and pulled it. The smell of belladonna filled the air. This time Aryana laid on the ground and breathed it in.
Aryana awoke, lying down. She reached up and touched the wood around her, her body laying against the harsh slabs that surrounded her. A coffin. She was in a coffin. She made an attempt to push on what should be the lid, but instead, dirt fell onto her face through the unfinished wooden planks.
Oh, gods, oh gods, where are we?
It’s a coffin! We’re trapped.
They’ve buried us alive.
Panicked thoughts reached her. Thoughts that she knew weren’t her own. Who was she connected to? And how many was she connected to? Despite herself, her body trembled from fear. She shut her eyes, trying to gain control of her emotions. What was happening?
The bread. The amount she had taken must not only connect thoughts, but emotions. Impatience followed by a dread rippled through her. One that was her own. Zarathos needed her. How could she get to him confined in this damn coffin?
Gods, we’re trapped, we’re trapped.
Buried underground, I hate enclosed spaces.
Oh shit, there is a creature in here with us!
