“Knees,” he said.
Yates yanked her up onto her knees.
“Get used to that position,” the prince said to her. “While you serve me, you’ll be on your knees.”
Serve him? Not a comforting thought. Nothing about this was comforting. Except maybe his promise not to kill her.
He glanced at Yates. “Well done, Captain. You’ve redeemed yourself.” Then he met Shyla’s gaze. “I was not pleased with the captain after you escaped. He’s proven quite resourceful since, discovering those protective torques the priestess was using. I hope you like your new necklace. It’s like my sigil, except once it’s clicked into place, there’s no way to open it without a key.” He leaned closer. “It’s thicker, too. No worries that the deacons will cut it off with a pair of metal cutters. And my jeweler added an extra feature. Let me show you. Yates, get the mirror.”
Fear pulsed in her heart. Cut off from her magic, she had no defenses. Yates handed the prince a small rectangular mirror and he angled it so she stared at her reflection.
It wasn’t a necklace. Not even close. It was a collar. Four centimeters wide and engraved with the Invisible Sword’s symbol. On the very front hung a metal ring. That must be the extra feature, but what did it do?
The prince handed the mirror back to Yates, then he pulled out a short chain from his pocket. Before she could react, he snapped one end onto the ring. Then he yanked her forward by the chain so they were almost nose to nose.
“You’re going to regret every problem you ever caused me. And you’re going to use those pretty blue eyes for my benefit only. Understand?”
All ability to speak fled as terror gripped her.
“No? Don’t worry, you will. And don’t think that when I take that necklace off you’ll have a chance to attack me. I’ll be protected and I have a very good imagination when it comes to punishments.” He handed the chain to Yates. “Show her to her new room.”
Yates hauled her to her feet. Unable to resist, she followed two steps behind him. He led her to an almost empty room. In the middle of the floor was a metal anchor, very similar to the one Jayden was currently chained to. If her situation wasn’t so dire, she might have acknowledged the irony. Yates pulled her down and snapped the end of her chain to the anchor.
Before leaving he said, “If you had agreed to work with the prince when he asked you, your accommodations would have been opulent.” He left, sliding the door closed. A thin ribbon of light shone underneath so she wasn’t in complete darkness.
After a few moments to adjust to the rapid change in her fate, Shyla ran her fingers over the collar, down the chain, and over the anchor, seeking weaknesses. The chain was only one meter long, limiting her range and preventing her from standing up straight. But if she knelt it was the perfect length. Instead she sat cross-legged, close to the anchor.
The link that connected to the anchor and the one attached to her collar were the same design. They had a hinge and a small keyhole. Perhaps she had something in her—
Pack! Yates hadn’t taken it from her. It was under her sun cloak, which she also wore. She dug into it. Water skin, pouch of osees, her wrap, a few rolls of jerky, a spider kit, but nothing slender and hooked. She wished she’d brought her cane, although she doubted the tip of the blade would work. For such a tiny lock, the key was probably a simple L-shape.
Once she explored every centimeter of her cell, she’d nothing left to do but think. She used her wrap as a makeshift pillow and stretched out on the hard floor. Her leg throbbed with painful pulses. She considered her chances of being rescued. That was an easy one—zero percent. Moving on, she searched her memories of the fight. She hoped that once Yates left with her, the rest had retreated. A few of the Invisible Swords had been injured, but from what she’d seen, the guards weren’t aiming to kill, which probably meant the prince wasn’t ready to take on the priestess.
She had been ready. They had enough people and, with the disguises, they could have reached the Heliacal Priestess and taken over. Hopefully, Elek had continued with the plan. From level ninety-six, the Invisible Swords would have better access to this level. Maybe there was a slight probability of being rescued. Ten percent? Fifteen? Better than zero.
Despair tried to creep into her thoughts, but she refused to let it in. She’d figure a way out of this eventually. For now, she’d cooperate until the opportunity arrived. Then she’d take it.
They kept her locked in that room for a long time. At least she had some water and food, but other bodily functions needed to be tended to. A mild discomfort turned into a painful pressure. A part of her recognized the effectiveness of this torture. She thought of Jayden living in luxury with plenty of buckets in reach. If he knew about her situation, he’d feel vindicated. He’d plotted with the priestess because he didn’t have faith in the Invisible Sword’s ability to stop the Water Prince. And here she was, his prisoner. Soon to be a wet and smelly one if—
The door slid open. Yates gave her a dispassionate once-over, then unhooked her, yanking her to her feet. Her leg protested and she almost collapsed, but she caught her balance before he towed her from the room.
She touched his arm. “I need to use the collection station.”
He sighed. “I advised the prince to lock you in a black cell, but he wants you close by.”
Remembering the hole in the floor of the cell, the stench, and the cries from the other prisoners, Shyla was glad she avoided that fate. Although that could change at any time.
Yates allowed her to use the servants’ station and then marched her double time to the prince’s throne room. Just like all the leaders from the past, the prince sat on an elaborate marble throne on an elevated dais. Trol lanterns ringed the room, an expensive rug ran from the throne to the entrance, and four water fountains—the most decadent feature—splashed merrily in the corners, the sound incongruous with the tense atmosphere. Colorful tile mosaics decorated the walls around the fountains. It was all very…effective.
She was pushed into a kneeling position on the hard ground next to the throne. Her injury ached its displeasure.
The prince leaned over and met her gaze. “I’m seeing petitioners this sun jump. You will tell me when they’re lying or if they have any harmful intentions. Yates will be right behind you. He’s been looking for an excuse to hurt you, so I’d suggest you don’t give him one.”
Yates unlocked the collar and took it off. The relief at being able to access her magic was similar to the relief she felt in the collection station. It was gross but accurate. Of course, the prince and Yates were protected along with the guards. She wondered where the prince had gotten the platinum. Then remembered, with the amount of wealth he stockpiled, he probably already had plenty.
When the first supplicant entered, Yates pressed the tip of his knife into her shoulder, reminding her of his presence. Shyla did her job, scanning the man’s thoughts and intentions. She considered planting doubts into his mind about the Water Prince’s rule, but she didn’t want the man to try something stupid and get arrested. She could use one to send a message to her people. But what would she tell them?
Time slowed as one after another entered the throne room and either pleaded their case or asked for something—Shyla didn’t pay attention to the details. They all noted her presence, wondering why a sun-kissed was kneeling next to the prince and what it meant for them. Their reactions to her ranged from unease to fear. A few lied and Shyla signaled to the prince with a shake of her head.
One young man’s sharp fear stabbed through her misery. By this time, her legs, back, and knees blazed with pain. The man was being accused of selling water to the vagrants. Shyla read his thoughts and learned he was a vagrant and had been buying water for his commune when he was caught.
“I’m innocent,” he pleaded. “I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Honest.”
The prince glanced at her. Here was her chance to do some good.
“He’s telling the truth,” she s
aid.
“Captain, please show our sun-kissed what happens when she lies.”
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye before Yates’ fist slammed into the side of her face. Her cheek and jaw exploded in agony as the force of the impact sent her flying. Crashing onto the ground, she tasted blood as her vision flashed from dark to light.
Yanked up by her short hair, Yates set her on her knees then snapped the collar around her throat. She was half dragged back to her room and secured.
“The prince is disappointed,” Yates said. “You won’t be getting any food or water until he’s happier with your performance.”
She huddled on the floor for a long time. The young man had been a test and she hadn’t passed. The problem was she’d probably do it again. The Sun Goddess had instructed Shyla to stop her people’s suffering, not be the cause of it. Not everyone would be a test.
The next few sun jumps blurred into one long session of misery. The prince was not happy with her performance. Not at all. She grew weaker and more crippled as the pain in her body spread.
After one such session, she lay bloody and broken on the floor of her room. Even though ninety-six levels separated her from the sunlight, she sensed the distant heat and the pulse of disappointment from the Sun Goddess, no doubt regretting her choice of champion. She’d failed the goddess and failed the Invisible Swords who trusted her to lead them. Failed the entire city, which squatted above her like a velbloud too fat to fly.
Her body ached with the need for Rendor’s touch. For him to wrap her in his strong arms. She longed to curl up next to him, safe and warm for just a couple angles. And she worried about her parents. Were they suffering as well? Would the King send his emissary to demand their release?
To pull her thoughts away from her painful—and impossible—wishes, Shyla traced the Invisible Sword’s symbol on her collar with a fingernail, remembering when she first saw it. That sun jump with Banqui when he’d shown her Tamburah’s vault where The Eyes had been found and soon lost. It’d been the beginning of a grand scheme to assassinate the Water Prince. Devised by the Invisible Sword’s predecessors, it too failed. She’d hoped this new archive would prove to be more successful. The words “new archive” stirred a familiar feeling. Why? She chased that fleeting grain of understanding. And—
Yates arrived and once again dragged her to the throne room where she endured another session. Despite the consequences, she was unwilling to cause harm. When the prince told Yates, “This isn’t working,” she feared for her life. But a strange thing happened. Timin, the prince’s personal physician, arrived and muttered over her injuries as he tended to her wounds. Food and water appeared with some regularity along with a few comfort items. This scared her more than the beatings. Pain she understood. Kindness from the Water Prince came with a price.
And she was right to worry. Six…eight?…sun jumps later, Yates led her into the throne room. Not again. But instead of being forced to kneel, she stood in front of the prince.
“Since you refuse to use the power of The Eyes for my benefit, I’ve no choice but to take them from you,” the prince said.
She stepped back without thought but was shoved forward by Yates. His meaty hand remained clapped on her shoulder. Hate didn’t begin to describe the depth of her feelings for the beast.
“I’ve figured out that I need to remove your eyeballs, but I’m uncertain of the next steps. Teach me to wield the power and I’ll allow you to live,” the prince said.
Dying wasn’t the problem. No. It was the prince’s utter lack of compassion and empathy and his extreme despotism. He’d turn into another Tamburah within a circuit. Shyla didn’t think this conversation was going to end well for her.
“So you’d rather die than give this power to me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not fond of you either.” The prince sighed. “Captain.”
She braced for a punch or kick or the cold steel of a blade entering her back, but he released his hold and strode to the door. He called to his men and returned to his position behind her.
Four guards entered and they dragged two prisoners with them. Their clothing was torn and covered with filth. They stank of the black cells. With greasy hair and sunken cheeks, they stared at her with alarmed dismay. Recognition caused her to gasp.
Hanif and Kaveri.
Dread coiled in her stomach. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Let’s try again,” the prince said. “Tell me how to wake The Eyes or I’ll kill them.”
“Don’t,” Hanif rasped. “He’s bluffing. He can’t kill us or the King—”
“Will do what?” the prince demanded.
“Send his troops to overthrow you,” Hanif said.
“Unlikely. The most I’ll get is a reprimand for arresting you. It’s not my fault if you died during an escape attempt.”
Hanif turned to her. “You know what we do for the King. Let the prince kill us. The King will send his troops.”
“Yes, do it,” Kaveri said.
“I’m not scared of the King,” the prince said. He motioned to Yates. “Captain.”
Yates pushed her aside and advanced on her mother with his knife drawn. Kaveri straightened and glared at the captain in defiance. No fear lurked in her gaze.
Shyla’s heart twisted with anguish. “No. Stop!” She was being selfish, and she didn’t care. They weren’t going to die because of her.
Yates glanced at the prince, who nodded.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“You’re right, you have to remove my eyes. I assume they’ll turn back into gemstones, but I’ve no idea.”
“Then what.”
She was going to enjoy this next bit. “Then you have to sacrifice your own eyes. Once they’re gone, you place the gemstones into your empty eye sockets.”
The prince paled. “You’re lying.”
“No,” Hanif said. “She’s not. I was there. I placed The Eyes into her empty sockets.” He shuddered.
Shyla didn’t blame him. The memory of the pain haunted her dreams.
“A sacrifice is required,” Shyla said. “And a leap of faith.”
“What leap of faith?” the prince demanded.
“That it will work for you. That you will be able to wake the power.” That last statement resonated. Had The Eyes woken because of her magic or because of who she was?
“They won’t work for him,” Hanif said. “He has no magical abilities.”
The prince rounded on her. “You were able to use magic before stealing The Eyes from me?”
Hanif had seeded the doubt and now it was Shyla’s turn to water it. “Yes.”
“How? I thought you said magic didn’t exist. Did you lie to me?”
“No. I believed magic was a myth. But I was mistaken. I was…shown proof that it existed and was told of my own potential to use it.”
“What about me? Do I have potential?”
“I don’t know. You would have to remove my collar and your torque for me to see if you have it.”
“So you can take over my mind? Nice try.”
She shrugged. “Then you’ll just have to have faith.”
The Water Prince sent her back to her room while he considered everything he’d learned. She hoped it would take him a long while to work up the nerve. No way the prince would allow anyone else in his organization to attempt to wake The Eyes. He trusted no one and was too power hungry. The priestess could assign an underling to make the sacrifice because her people were fanatics and worshipped her.
It only took a couple sun jumps before the prince called for her. The doubt had grown and he wanted to know if he had magical potential.
Two guards held Kaveri tight—the prince’s insurance that Shyla wouldn’t double-cross him. Her mother no longer reeked and her torn monk’s robe had been replaced with a clean tunic.
The prince noticed the direction of Shyla’s gaze. “I’m keeping your parents close. They’re being well treated a
nd will continue to be as long as you cooperate.”
She wondered if that was the entire reason or if the threat about the King had him worried. Either way, her mother appeared healthier. And, by the gleam in her eyes, ready for action. Kaveri was a trained monk. Two guards, even armed, were no match for her.
Too bad Yates remained in the room and he wore his torque. Plus the prince was trained to fight as well. She’d seen the hard lines of his muscles under his form-fitting tunic.
So she behaved and instructed the prince to gather his will. She sought the glow of potential as he tried to move the sand inside a clock. There was nothing inside him but blackness.
“You don’t have potential,” she told him.
“You lie.” He backhanded her.
She spun with the blow and lost her balance, ending up on the floor. Yates clamped the hated collar around her neck before she could reach the prince with her magic.
“I am the Water Prince. Of course I have magic.” He stared at her with such venom, she expected him to order Yates to kill her. “I will have the power of The Eyes. Captain, send a man to fetch Timin. Have him bring his sharpest scalpel.” Then he grabbed Shyla’s chain and yanked her up to face him. “After I remove your eyes, I will kill you.” He shoved her back.
She landed hard on the ground but barely registered the pain. The Water Prince had meant what he said.
Timin arrived along with a few more guards. Kaveri was taken back to her quarters. She’d raised a blond eyebrow in inquiry at Shyla before leaving. But Shyla shook her head. Too many guards for the two of them to handle.
The physician was horrified by the prince’s request. He sounded just like Zhek. And he raised all the same concerns as Zhek. Shyla would have smiled, but she knew Timin was loyal and would do as commanded. And, sure enough, he agreed.
“We’ll see if they turn back into gemstones before I sacrifice my eyes,” the prince said. He snapped his fingers at his guards. “Keep her still.”
The City of Zirdai Page 28