Page 47 of The Curse of Ophelia

He sighed, and the sound carried years of pent-up aggression. “This could have been so easy, Malakai.”

Hearing my name cross his lips caused bile to rise from my stomach, and I allowed my mind the pleasure of picturing myself vomiting on his smug face. In the stone cell, amid the rank odors of torture, the image was satisfying.

That rough voice continued, unperturbed. “If you had only followed suit, everything would have been okay. Now, we resort to this to protect the truth.” I thought there might have been a note of regret in his voice, but then he added, “It is your fault.”

His lies nearly drew a reaction from me, but I sucked in a breath and tightened my grip on the wood, counting as I exhaled my venom. Eight…seven…six—the thing that stung the most was that I didn’t even think he thought his words were lies—five…four—they were his warped version of the truth—three…two—which meant I was insignificant—one.

Significant enough to keep, but maybe not enough to continue to torment.

“So, let me go,” I growled. “Release me from these chains and return to your original plan.”

“I cannot.” His green eyes darkened, unrelenting. He was allowing himself to be controlled, and in two years, I had been unable to decipher why. Why resort to torturing me when I was already a prisoner? What was the end goal? I couldn’t allow emotions to surface over that unanswered question, so I met his stare as he said, “If I release you, you will ruin everything.” His voice wavered. The slice of hope left within me withered to a mere ember as I realized how much of a pawn he was in this. But in its place, a shadow of persistence rose.

“What is even left for me to ruin?” I closed my eyes, slipping toward defeat. The lies tasted like acid, but so long as he did not take away my one last shred of hope, I would never succumb. I would only act like I had.

“I am glad you finally accept it.”

My fingers curled around the chair, and I counted the splinters slicing into my skin to force my temper down. “Why don’t you kill me now? Or order my death, since you are too much of a coward to raise the weapon yourself.” I may be forced to submit, but I would never make it an easy decision for him. He would feel each order of a blade or whip against my skin.

“You think that is what I want?”

My eyes flicked across the cell. “Is it such a surprise that I do?”

“You will understand it one day. Then, you will bow to me.” He turned on his heel, gray overcoat a dark cloud swirling around him. As he reached the iron door, he turned. “Something is coming, Malakai. A promise-breaking threat I did not anticipate. But I am not sorry for what must be done.”

He left, voice ringing in my ears as I gripped the planks beneath my arms with unrestrained force. Their splintering crack echoed around me.

Chapter Twenty

Ophelia

My heart hammered in my chest as I reconsidered the decision we were about to make. Reaching out absently, I dragged my hand down one of the many trees nestled at the top of the hill we perched on, feeling a splinter pierce my skin.

“I don’t like this.” I turned to my circle of friends, pulling the thin piece of wood from my palm as I searched each face like I must commit it to memory. After two attacks, thinking I might lose both my sister and my best friend, I was less inclined to take risks than usual. The fear that had gripped my stomach in those moments swooped through me again, and my hands shook.

“Ophelia, we don’t have a choice,” Rina responded. Her eyes were clear, as if she knew exactly what she was doing and believed in her decision. “There is nothing to fear.”

I gnawed on my lip. “I should be the one to go,” I repeated for the tenth time, but all four of them shook their heads.

From his spot on the ground—his leg too weak to hold him up for long—Tolek reiterated their argument, “You and Jezebel must stay here. You’re much too recognizable as Alabaths.” His soul-searching eyes stared into mine, and I had a feeling he had an ulterior motive for keeping me here, given that he was too weak to make the theft himself.

I sighed in resignation, looking down the hillside across the southern border of Turren and into the corner of the city where their market lay. The sun had barely risen, pale yellow light settling over the quiet streets, wooden stalls, and thatched roofs. Branches swayed in the gentle morning breeze. Soon, tradesmen would set up their wears for the crowds that would flood the streets. Customers would wind their way through the makeshift tents, buying fruits and meats and freshly baked bread.

It was a smaller city than Palerman, but large enough that they wouldn’t miss the food we swiped from their market.

“Cyph, you should go as well,” I instructed.

“I’m capable on my own,” Santorina said, a bit of heat in her voice.

“I believe that, Rina, but two will be faster than one, and you’ll be able to carry more together.” We needed enough food for the second half of our journey, having gone days with nothing more than wild fruit, and blankets if they were able.

Rina nodded in understanding, and Cypherion took up his place beside her, leaving the majority of his weapons in our circle beneath the trees, including his scythe. He only kept a band of knives around his arm. “People will be less trusting of me if I’m cloaked in weapons,” he explained when I raised my eyebrows in concern.

“All right,” I agreed. “Go. Before I second-guess this plan.”

They laughed at my nerves before heading down the hill. I watched until the long grasses swallowed them up, turning them into two bobbing shadows in the distance. They had two hours to make it into the market, another hour to wander around and fill their packs—illegally—and then a hike back up the hill. If they were not back by midday, I would go after them.

Jezebel’s idea of finding an inn for a night was more and more attractive the farther Cyph and Rina went. My sister had pitched the promise of real mattresses and hot food, a night of solid slumber to refresh ourselves after the tumultuous journey thus far. But we all knew we could not afford to sacrifice the time. If we kept moving, we’d get to the tundra sooner.

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