by Rae Brooks
Without provocation, another force exploded across his other elbow. He whimpered against it, having been caught entirely unawares. “Stop preaching like a decrepit old man, and tell me what I want to know. You’re dying, Taeru—we all know that. Give me the information I require so I can end this. If Cathalar is really so prepared as you say, then you shouldn’t mind giving me a few advantages—after all, you claim to be so righteous and selfless.” Taeru had never claimed to be either of those things.
“No!” he cried. “No, if I give you the information—you’ll just be more deluded! You’ve seen Cathalar guards, you’ve seen scouts—you know how powerful they are. Lavus, why do you want to shed pointless blood?” The force against his elbow made him dizzy with pain, blood amalgamated in his throat, and he coughed, splattering it across the metal that his head rested on. “Please,” he moaned.
This time, the blow was against his knee, and he couldn’t contain the agonized scream that tore from his throat. His injured knee—how had he managed to forget about the knee that was already injured? The thought of it brought unbidden thoughts of Calis into his head. He ached for the prince more than he ought to. Calis was surely well past the point of worrying about Taeru. Still, Taeru held onto the hope that he might be able to see the blond one more time. He owed him an apology—at least. He had surely caused Calis quite a bit of trouble, as the prince had murdered guards for him.
There was another strong blow to his knee, and he screamed again. His body convulsed, pulling against the bindings, and his back arched upwards, away from the metal. He sobbed, whimpering involuntarily against the metal. His positioning was so that every blow hit the perfect location along his arms and legs, hurting more than he’d ever imagined it could. Just kill me. Just kill me…
I hope they accidentally kill you here, waiting for another blow. You are worthless, prince. You ought to die here. It would serve you right—for allowing your sister, and those poor women to suffer. They’ll surely all be hanged after you die. It’s a shame that they can’t be killed in front of you, though I’m sure they’ll be squeezed for information until you’re dead.
Taeru’s eyes widened. That was true—if he was dead, then he had no means of protecting Aela or anyone else. He squirmed against the unconsciousness. He’d have to handle this. Perhaps he would be granted some opportunity to stop this. Aela and the others wouldn’t be killed while he was alive, and he was sure of that. Maybe… She’s messing with my head again. He whimpered weakly. He knew that wanting death was cowardly—no matter what.
“In case you were interested,” Lavus started grimly, “my son, your former lover, has agreed to tell me everything he knows about you. I hope you haven’t told him anything relevant.” Lavus was amused, Taeru thought. “I would be much more merciful if you told me yourself, you realize?”
What? His leg was struck again, and he could feel a breaking along his leg—or at least a crack. It hurt, whatever it was. The pain brought him back to reality though. Calis had apparently agreed to tell Lavus about Taeru. Well, that was… fair. Not entirely unexpected, so the fact that Taeru’s heart felt like it was the part of his body taking the taxing blows was contemptible. After all, Calis knew nothing of relevance. Calis didn’t know about Aela. Oh, by the Magisters… the Phantom Blade. Tareth will… oh, please… Please. He thought momentarily of telling Lavus himself, though that would not have softened Tareth’s rage.
After all, perhaps Calis was going to mislead his father. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell Lavus about the Phantom Blade at all. It’s inspiring that you manage to be so foolishly optimistic in these circumstances, some cynical part of his brain hissed at him. By inspiring, I mean sad.
Still, there was no reason to reveal information that would guarantee him so much additional pain without being certain. He kept his mouth shut, saying nothing, as the pieces of his heart scrambled to reassemble themselves. “Oh, I can see how much that bothers you. It must be painful, to think that someone that you trusted and may have even been in love with, would betray you so quickly. My son is far more loyal to me than you realize, urchin.” A hand clutched his cheek for a moment before a fist slammed across it.
“He doesn’t know anything,” Taeru tried weakly.
“Your voice betrays you, child,” Lavus cooed. He sounded as though he was enjoying the moment more than he had the others. Possibly because he knew that his son was going to help him, now. That probably meant Calis wasn’t in trouble, which came as an unexpected relief to Taeru.
A biting sensation cut along the front of Taeru’s body, and he recognized it from moments gone by as one of the leather whips. It bit, and it sliced through his skin, as though it was made of paper. Taeru whimpered again, and then, with a renewed confidence. “Let me see him,” Taeru begged.
Lavus laughed, and another forceful blow moved across Taeru’s formerly decent leg. It wasn’t such any longer. “Going to try and guilt my son into silence with your nonsense? You truly are deluded.”
“No,” Taeru said, and his voice was shaking without pause. “No, after you talk to him—let me talk to him, please.”
Taeru really didn’t see why the request had to be met with the blows to his body parts. It was, though, and he let out another hoarse scream. “He doesn’t want to see you, you lying streetwalker! If I let him in here, he’d torture you with far more intensity than I am. You wouldn’t survive.”
“Let him, then,” Taeru said shakily. He could be lying. That doesn’t sound like Calis. He wouldn’t do that. Hurting people has never been how he handles things. Though, if he were angry enough… it’s irrelevant. I have to see him. “Stay in here with him. Just let me speak to him for a moment!”
The whip, and then that hard object—Taeru thought it might be a hammer—hit him in rapid succession. He whimpered, choking out breath and blood interchangeably. He ought to just stop talking, he thought. “Speak again, and you won’t live through the next blow.”
Taeru silenced himself. “Lavus!” a woman’s voice came out of nowhere. Taeru hadn’t heard her enter, though that meant nothing. She probably had entered during one of the many strikes to Taeru’s body. He heard less in those moments. “He’s blindfolded,” she said, as though this fact was horrifying.
“What are you doing here, Claudia?” Lavus hissed. Taeru wasn’t sure who this was, though he assumed by the addressors that Claudia had to be Calis’s mother. She was Lavus’s wife, he surmised.
She sounded winded, as though she had just fought a very difficult battle. Taeru wondered if Lavus had hit her. She sounded as though she’d been struck recently. She also didn’t sound quite as vicious, or sadistic, as Tareth and Lavus. Taeru found himself clinging to her voice. “Let me see him.”
“What?” Tareth was the one who spoke next. “Mother, what is this about?”
She was crying, Taeru realized. Or she had been, he thought she might still be crying. Well, she did live with Tareth and Lavus, so she probably cried often, he thought unkindly. “Just take off the blindfold. Please, then I’ll go. I need to see something.”
Lavus was beside himself. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Please, Lavus—I need this.” Her words were not necessarily pleading, rather, they were emphatic, as if this wasn’t debatable.
Lavus laughed bitterly, and with a blast of air, another blow struck Taeru in the arm. Oh, he had not expected that. Oh, that hurt. His mouth opened to form a whimper, or a scream, but no sound came forward. He just tried to push breath out of his throat. “I don’t mind torturing him in your presence.”
“Lavus, you ought to know I’m not squeamish,” she said flatly. “Let me see his eyes.”
“Wench,” Lavus growled. “So paranoid that you have to see his face fully? Fine.” Someone, Lavus presumably, moved forward and grabbed the blindfold that had become a staple in Taeru’s life. The man yanked it down, and Taeru’s eyes blinked several times. There were a few points of light through the room—fires—and Taeru’s eyelids fluttered
from the new visual. A more delicate hand grabbed Taeru’s chin, yanking his head upwards.
Oh, Calis’s mom, indisputably. Her blue-green eyes may well have been his, and her blond hair was nearly the same color. It was long, and flowing, curled, though a little disheveled from whatever had made her cry. She was beautiful. Her soft, pink lips parted when they looked at him, though, and she looked horrified. There was a strange intake of breath, and he realized that she’d gasped. What an odd reaction. If she’d seen his body, then his face’s injuries were nothing spectacular.
She was going to slap him, Taeru realized. He flinched, before he’d really determined why he thought that. To his surprise, she released him, though she continued to stare at him. He risked another glance at her, completely unsure where this was going. His arms and legs were really hurting, he thought absently. “I can see why Calis found you attractive,” she said pragmatically.
Taeru was quite certain that he was not to address this woman. He just stared at her, and he wondered if he’d asked her—if she would let him see Calis. No, she wouldn’t—and he knew that she wouldn’t have had the power to do so. “Satisfied, wench?” Lavus asked acerbically.
“Has he given you any information?” Claudia turned, and Tareth moved forward and replaced the blindfold. “Why is he blindfolded?”
“It creates a sense of anticipation,” Lavus answered flatly, “and no, but he will. Now leave, go attend to your duties.”
“Tell Calis I said hello, Mother,” Tareth said, and he sounded so snide that Taeru felt a tinge of anger at it. Apparently, they knew more of how hurt he was about Calis’s change of sides than he’d wanted.
To his surprise, Claudia responded almost angrily. “Watch yourself, Tareth.”
“The desperation to want what is unattainable, and the power to rewrite a story were his power.”
-A Hero’s Peace v.ii
Chapter xliv
Ryo Lassau
The fact that it was a Telandan messenger made it that much easier to ignore. The man who stood before Veyron and Ryo seemed uncomfortable. “Sir,” the man said, “I’m aware that it’s unorthodox, but he will not leave. He claims he must speak with you. We need your orders to kill him.” The man dropped his head apologetically. The throne room was silent, with assorted men and women staring at this intruder.
Ryo was certain that his father was going to issue the order. The messenger would be killed, and that would be the end of it. After all, surely it was just another declaration from Telandus attempting to rile Veyron’s feathers. Ryo watched his father intently. Veyron’s brown eyes were flickering with consideration, apparently he wouldn’t be making this decision as quickly as Ryo assumed.
Rightly so, perhaps, as Aela had only recently disappeared. Oh no, Aela… Aela, no! Ryo’s heard pounded with the new realization. She had gone with the others to Telandus, and it had been phases sense they had heard from the caravan. She would have gone to Telandus—what if they had discovered her? Ryo felt sick. This must be about Aela. “Aela,” he whispered warily. A few people glanced at him, but they clearly hadn’t heard what he said. Veyron’s eyes had changed to look at his son, though, and he had heard.
Indistinctly, he nodded, and then he stared at the man who had interrupted the throne room’s normal proceedings. “You were right to bring this to me, Rathe. Ready my horse, I will go meet this messenger personally.” Rathe seemed a little proud of himself, and he scurried out of the throne room to obey the orders. “Everyone, resume your activities—I will return once this matter is dealt with. Ryo, come with me.”
“Of course, Father.” Ryo bowed his obligation and followed Veyron out the door of the throne room. Neither of them spoke, as there was no need. Telandus had not sent a messenger to Cathalar in some time, and the odds that this was coincidence were too small to imagine. Veyron was walking stiffly, and he disposed of his cape in the foyer before they headed out to get on the horses.
Ryo didn’t like capes, and so he didn’t wear them. There was no need to dispose of anything that did not exist, so he followed Veyron mutely. “I hope she’s alright,” Ryo finally ventured, unable to take the silence. His mind was threatening to explode with worry. His little sister, stuck in Telandus, no doubt being tortured and—no, no, Ryo could not let his mind go there. He would kill Lavus himself. Lavus and both of his worthless children.
“I will have no choice, Ryo, you understand. If my daughter is at that brute’s mercy—then we will go to war.” There was no arguing with that. Aela was far too important to worry with Taeru’s tiny warnings in the back of Ryo’s head—warding him against war. Taeru would go to war for Aela, and Ryo knew that.
Ryo offered a weak smile as he climbed atop his brown horse. The horse seemed gratified that he was on it, which certainly meant that one of the guards had been riding it recently. “I don’t think even Taeru would argue with that, Father,” Ryo answered swiftly.
“I know he wouldn’t,” Veyron said without hesitation. They headed towards the front of the city. Reaching the gates of Cathalar did not require a walk through Lower Town, as Veyron hadn’t wanted all travelers to feel confined to that section of the city. Lower Town wasn’t completely disastrous, but most travelers found it less appealing than Upper. They moved through the walled-in area, a straight shot to the city gates.
Walking the entirety of Cathalar would have taken shifts, but the king had designed this walk so that the front gates could be reached from the castle with relative haste. The entire city was a circle, the innermost was Upper Town, filled with fanciful buildings and riches. The outer circle was Lower Town, where the middle and lower class lived. The buildings there were formidable, and certain parts were even worthy of nobility, though none of the snobs would dare to go there. Lower Town was, above anything else, the less prestigious part of Cathalar. Aela had loved it there, Ryo thought with a pang. So had Taeru for that matter. Oh, he missed them—both of them.
Taeru, what would you say now? Would you understand? I know you’d never let harm come to Aela. Though, you’d probably insist on going yourself on some heroic mission. I’m sure I could persuade you to let me go with you, though. Ryo smiled fondly at the thought of his brother. The pain accompanied with the memories was hard to cope with, but he managed.
A circle of horses traveled with Ryo and his father. They rode in silence, surrounding the two of them. Rathe was one of them. “How long has the man been here, Rathe?” Veyron asked.
“Not long,” Rathe said. “About a shift.”
“Good,” Veyron answered swiftly. Rathe nodded as they continued their path. Ryo could feel his heart pounding in his chest. What if they came to say Aela was dead? No, no, surely they wouldn’t do that. Surely, they wouldn’t kill a little girl! Please, no. Aela… oh Aela.
They hurried on, and eventually, the front gates of the city came into view. There were several guards standing about it, all looking a mix of disconcerted and angry. They were surrounding a central point, which Ryo assumed would yield the Telandan messenger. The guards all swarmed outwards, to make a path for the newcomers. They bowed their greeting to Veyron and Ryo. Veyron’s grand horse moved to the front of the circle—all black and frightening. Ryo felt a little small next to it, really. When his father dismounted, he followed suit, though it did little to soothe his feelings of inadequacy.
He stepped up beside his father, though, and then he got a glance at the messenger. The man was sickly pale, as were all Telandans. His hair was a brown so light that it may as well be about to gray, though his face was relatively young. His yellow horse looked a little ready to fall over dead, and Ryo assumed that this man had made fantastic time. The messenger did not bow to the king or the prince. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. “I come of a cycle’s ride from Telandus to deliver a message to his highness,” the man said sharply.
“His highness is here, fool, deliver your message.” Veyron’s voice was tight, filled with venom that was just waiting to spew onto this man and destroy
him. Ryo thought he would enjoy the sight of this sniveling messenger melting to the ground where he stood.
The messenger twitched a little at the disguised insult. “I come bearing news of one of your children, sir,” the man retorted. Ryo’s heart sank. Aela. His body felt as though it was going to convulse, that or it might just explode. Surely, they hadn’t killed her. Aela was too young—she was no threat to anyone.
“And what is that?”
“His majesty would like you to know that he has found your lost son.” That was not at all what Ryo had expected. Nausea pooled in his stomach, and Veyron glanced back to Ryo quickly. Their eyes flickered with uncertainty. So, this wasn’t about Aela. This was about Taeru. Ryo’s heart had not slowed down, and oddly enough, he felt as though it had sped up. Taeru—what have you gotten yourself into?
Veyron frowned, and for a long moment, he said nothing. The guards seemed to be holding their breaths. Whereas, Aela’s disappearance was recent, and not widely known, everyone knew that Taeru had disappeared all those years ago. And Taeru, even more than Aela, was well-liked. The idea that he was the subject of this sent a sort of chill across every man standing there. “Has he?” Veyron asked dryly.
“Yes, he is in Telandus. Until very recently, we hadn’t the slightest idea who he was. But, by a stroke of luck, we were able to find out. His majesty would like you to know that he is taking the utmost care with your son, and he will continue to unless you can be bothered to retrieve him.” The man chuckled, with a dark sound echoing through it. “Oh, and if you want proof…” He reached into his pocket and brandished a small ring. A silver one.