“At least come and see baby Miria.” Lena replied “You know, the centaur child that you demanded of Prince Marten.”
“Leigh can raise it.” Silver replied.
“She is not an it.” Lena informed her. “And do you really think Leigh is a suitable parent?”
“Do you really think I am?” Silver demanded, “My own parents taught me how to kill when I was three; my first memory is of my teachers binding me to a table and telling me not to scream, even as they put me through the worst tortures imaginable. That child deserves anyone but me as its parent.”
“At least it can always trust that you’ll come home again.” Lena snapped.
“Why? Because of my talent for surviving? Leigh knows how to stay alive as well as I do.” Was everyone going to be a critic? She’d only been allowed partial control of her body a few months ago, and now they didn’t want her to have full control of it for a few days.
Then Leigh entered, looking even more annoyed than Silver felt. “Would anyone like to explain why the royal guard is canvassing the entire of Morendor and doing a grid-by-grid search of the forest? Or perhaps why the thieves guild the smugglers guild and the guild of death are searching every passageway for ten leagues. Or perhaps why I had to have a full body search before leaving the city?”
“Ask her.” Lena replied, yanking a thumb over her shoulder at Silver.
“I decided to take some time off from sitting in the back of Romana’s mind.” She replied defensively. “And so I pretended to kidnap and torture her to give her an excuse to miss a few days of the damn conference.”
“So that would be why the ‘damn conference’ is no longer going ahead and all the nobles are returning home.” Leigh replied. “You’ve been back barely half the year and you’ve caused the first cancelling of the Annual Conference of the Nobility in history. Congratulations.” The centaur followed Lena into the Kitchen.
It was just going to be one of those nights.
So, naturally, she decided to go for a run.
Skirting the guards turned out to be great fun, seeing as Prince Endis appeared to be allowing elven troops to come through the portal to aid them in finding her, she lead a few of their trackers around for a while, causing several groups of searchers to bump into each other.
When she got a little bored of them, she went into the passageways to see just how fearful the guild of death was.
Turned out they were quite something, she thought, even as she pulled a small crossbow bolt from a spot three inches right of her heart an hour later. But it wasn’t the assassins that had injured her; it had been the damn thieves, laying in wait as they wedged themselves into to the ceilings of the passageways shooting at her from above.
She pulled another bolt from her shoulder, not even wincing.
But on sixth-day she was so bored that it was a relief to get around to the ‘torture’. Over those days she’d killed so many of the crew that the marketplace was stained red, and broken so many men that she’d lost count.
By midnight Leigh had helped her cause so much damage to her body that it was a miracle she was still conscious. They‘d broken bones, cut patterns into her skin, half hung her so that bruises would make a nice ring around her neck, burnt her in places with hot coals, picked off her nails with large bamboo splinters. Leigh had hit her around a bit, and she was dressed in the nightgown and robe, which were intact, but bloodstained, leaving Marten to draw his own conclusions. Her hair had been re-cut to its old blade cut style, but shorter, and her eardrums had been shattered. As a finishing touch, they’d made sure to infect several of the wounds.
By the time Leigh dropped her off just outside the courtyard at midnight (because she was in no way able to walk by then) she was so beaten and bloodied, her hair had been cut and far more. In fact, Leigh had come up with some quite interesting tortures that even Silver had never heard of before, so when Silver allowed herself to be dragged back to unconsciousness it was an unwelcome relief.
Chapter Twenty-Six
RESCUE AND RECOVERY
She screamed, but made no sound. She screamed so loudly she should be able to hear it. She put her badly burnt hands to her ears and pulled them away to find blood there. Not surprising, blood was everywhere. Her eardrums had burst.
She shrieked louder, tears streaking her face and stinging in the cuts there. Every movement hurt more and more, she gazed through teary eyes at her wrists. They were cut, perfect lines along the vein there. She was going to die.
She yelled louder trying to be noticed, even though she couldn’t hear if anyone was nearby.
She saw light approaching her, and struggled towards it, but then fell onto her back, earning another scream of pain as the damaged skin there was put under further strain. Her eyes stared into the branches above her.
So this was it, she thought, Silver had caused her death. Not surprising really, she’d always thought that the strange woman who hijacked her body nearly every night was dangerous. This was just confirmation.
Her thoughts turned fuzzy as she looked upwards, the last vestiges of elvensight giving her time to focus in on the nest in the tree above her. The birds there had woken with her screams, but oddly, now that she was silent, they flew away.
Would there be birds in the after-life? She wondered as a glow fell upon the clearing.
When she woke up, it was not in the place she’d expected. A strange, yet beautiful room greeted her eyes as they opened. The white marble of the walls and ceiling told her she was still in Morendor, and the highly polished wood and elegance of the furnishings spoke of a room on one of the upper floors where the nobility slept. She was lying in a four poster bed with lavender net hangings. A heavy weight was pressing against her side. It was Katelyn, she realised, looking down at golden curls, and in the corner Prince Marten himself sat in a rocking chair.
She struggled to sit up.
“Don’t strain yourself.” He ordered from his seat, giving her a piercing look that would have made other women obey.
“Haven’t I already told you to keep your autocratic commands to yourself?” She asked, gently moving Katelyn. “How bad was it?” She asked, realising that someone had undressed and redressed her into the most ridiculously small nightdress, as she swung one leg over the edge of the bed. As soon as she was upright she swayed slightly.
Marten was there in an instant to hold her up. She batted him away impatiently and almost fell, so naturally he held her firmly upright; brushing a strand of her hair back from her face as he did so.
“You died.” He replied “For a moment your heart stopped.” He glared at her. “You can’t die.”
“Why the hell not?” She asked “I’m going to eventually.”
“Because I said so.” He replied.
“You’re proving my point about autocratic commands.” She replied, trying to move away, only to find that he had a steely grip on both her upper arms. “Let me go.”
“You were burnt, cut, bruised, whipped, strangled and drowned. And that’s only the things we know about.” He replied. “What did she do to you?”
“I don’t want you to know.” She replied, not remembering it herself.
“Tough.” He replied “As you are now the grand duchess of Morendor, I can order you to tell me.”
She openly gaped at him, even as he let her go to fetch the letters patent proclaiming her as a grand duchess from a table near where he’d been sitting.
“I can have Endis order you if my orders aren’t good enough for you.” Marten told her.
What did he want to know again? Her brain was kind of fuzzy; having an official document with royal signatures on it was a bit more than just the promise of becoming a duchess.
“I can’t remember.” She replied.
“Lying is a sin.” He responded.
“I honestly can’t remember anything, nothing past the hanging, she did that first; she said something about idle threats. How long was I out?”
“Nearly a w
eek.”
“Any sign of Silver?”
“Not since you came back to us.” He replied. “And I issued a warrant for her death.”
“You did what?” She asked, sure she’d heard wrong. “But she’s killed so many of that gang. Surely if we haven’t heard from her it means she’s not planning to help any more.”
“Good riddance.” He replied “For all we know she could’ve been working with them, and getting rid of traitors inside the gang.” But she heard the thread of uncertainty that lingered there.
“Unlikely, look at the evidence logically. All of it points to an ulterior motive, something that requires being in your good graces, but with you under enough control to do what she wants you to.”
“What does logic demand she wants me to do?” Marten asked her.
“Unknown.” She replied. “It could be anything, but I’m guessing she doesn’t want to learn interrogation techniques.”
“You’ve remembered more?” He asked.
“Yes.” Silver was sending her memories of the torture. “I didn’t break. I wouldn’t tell her anything.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” He told her, lifting his hand towards her face. She flinched on instinct, but then relaxed when it was clear he only wanted to wipe away the single tear that had escaped her. “I know it’s hard, but I need to know everything she did to you.”
“You don’t need to know.” She replied, trying to find some semblance of the hard earned clam she’d found at the slave shop.
“I do.” He replied. “I need to know exactly what I’ll do to her when we catch her.”
“Don’t do it.” She replied. “She was trying to provoke you with me. Maybe if you show you can be forgiving she might get bored and get to the point.”
“Can you forgive her?” He asked. “Could you look her in the eye and say those words?”
“It is in the past now. I will not allow what was done to me to impede my life, which is assuming that I have no challenging long term injuries you haven’t told me about.”
“None, the elven magicians healed you with some help from the remaining dragon priests.”
“Some stayed?” She asked.
“Yes, but only one. Ambassador Mia, you remember her?”
“Yes, I didn’t realise that she had magic.”
“Of course she does. All dragons do, as it happens you were lucky, bloodstone dragons are primarily healers. She decided to come here in her dragon form so she was strong enough to heal you fully. We owe her a lot.”
“On the contrary, Prince Marten.” A light voice replied from the balcony that she hadn’t noticed before. “You owe me nothing; I did it upon my queen’s orders.”
A huge scaled head was there, small grey horns protruding from above the eyes, which were unmistakeable amber in colour. She really did look like the gemstone she was named for, her scales flecked in spots of red just like the necklace the dragon priest had worn. She now realised that what she had mistaken for the gemstone had in fact been a scale.
“Why did she order you to heal me?” Romana asked.
“Because Lady Romana, you are important to the man who clears an air corridor every year for our migration; a feat that would be a small miracle for anyone but his highness.”
“That’s all?”
“Who can tell the whims of the last red diamond dragon alive?” The bloodstone dragon replied.
“Why is she the last?” Romana asked.
“The dwarves, our enemy of old have hunted her kind for their scales since they came to this world. But this is nothing compared to the extinction of the moonstone dragon which they caused.”
“Surely any child of the queen’s would be a red diamond dragon also?”
“Yes, but the queens firstborn, and only diamond dragon of any colour born of her so far was already given in debt to a strange woman who had once saved the queen in exchange for an open favour. Although, the woman should have known that a dragon can only hatch under two necessary conditions. Foolish mortal.”
“She was human?”
“No, we were uncertain, but she was not elven or dwarven, not fey or halfling. She was, beautiful.”
“Did she have a name?” Romana asked.
“We know her as the stranger of old.” Mia replied. “But I may not impart too much about dragon lore to outsiders. It is forbidden.”
“Thank-you for saving me.” Romana replied.
“You’re welcome.” She replied, “But I was ordered to return to my queen when you woke so I shall be leaving now.”
“Of course.” Marten replied, bowing his head in her direction even as the dragon turned and took off, creating a gust of wind that threatened to blow Romana down again. Unfortunately Marten noticed her stagger and pointed wordlessly at the bed.
“No.” She replied “I don’t need bed rest.”
He just looked at her unwaveringly.
“I’m going to go crazy in a bed.” She informed him “So I’m a little weak but at least I’m standing.”
“You’re not getting out of that bed for at least another day.” He replied “It’s not humanly possible to be up just minutes after you woke up from that trauma.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not human.” She replied. “Where are my clothes? My normal ones, no more of those parade gowns for me.”
“You are a grand duchess now, you will need to get used to dressing like your station.”
“Like you do?” She replied sarcastically, spotting a dresser and heading over to it “Leave.”
“You should be in bed.” He muttered, but clearly giving in as she dragged open draws and began to rifle through the contents. When she yanked out scraps of silk and lace he held up his hands in mock surrender and strode through the one door in the room.
But as the door swung open she saw the tabards and armour surrounding the entrance to her rooms. Guarding her, she thought, because now that she had a title she was worth guarding. She rubbed at her upper arm, thinking about how Silver was going to want to get out tonight. It would be hard not to be missed with this much security around her.
But why did she have to let Silver out? She wanted to have a night to herself, without waking up to alarm bells or bruises. She felt the now familiar presence in the back of her mind bristle at that thought. Silver was not happy with that idea, but that meant it was possible.
Intrigued, she pushed outwards with her mind.
For a second, nothing. Then silence.
She hadn’t realised how much background noise she’d been putting up with till that moment. Silver’s emotions had been running riot in the background. But now she was blissfully able to think clearer and calmer than before.
Silence was perfect. She thought as she dressed in trousers and a long top. She stepped out into the corridor, only to find the guards blocking the way.
“Excuse me.” She said, expecting them to move. They didn’t. “Could I please get past?” She asked.
“His highness orders that you stay here until tomorrow, and rest.” One informed her.
So that look hadn’t been surrender, it had been mischief. He couldn’t actually expect her to go along with this? She walked back into her room and checked for fireplaces. None. Clever prince, she thought, but not clever enough. Those guards were human.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
NO WARNING. NO CAUTION. NO NOTHING.
She used elvenspeed to get past them, her body a blur too fast for them to see her properly, until she reappeared several feet down the corridor, and gave them a sneaky wave.
“Give his highness my regards.” She replied, even as she blurred down the hallways and into the stables. To find Hana waiting for her.
“I figured you wouldn’t want your prescribed rest, your ladyship.” The head maid informed her, “So I took the liberty of preparing your horse.”
“Thanks.” Romana replied. “But if you ever call me that again, I will have to kill you.”
Hana’s laughter echoed
even as she cantered into the forest.
But the man waiting for her in the stables when she got back was not so impressed.
“Lady Romana.” The captain of the guard began. “His highness wishes you to rest.”
“Do I look like I need rest captain?” She asked, as she dismounted at elvenspeed and started to brush down Jayde.
“Forgive me for saying this, your grand ducal highness, but your torture left quite a stir and the staff would feel better serving you for at least a day, no matter how fast your physical recovery.”
“Then they may serve me when I return to my quarters for dinner this evening.” She replied. “His highness cannot expect me to be caged into one room for the appeasement of some uneasy staff.”
The captain looked like he wanted to reply, but at that moment a messenger runner came up to him.
“Sir, we’ve had reports of another bonfire party for her.” He said, panting the message out of worn out lungs.
“Another one?” The captain replied “How many can they have in one night, we’re going to have detained half the city at this rate.”
“What’s happening?” Romana asked, even as the captain ran off towards the wall, shouting orders as he went.
“Grand Duchess, a large percent of the population has been holding ‘come back Wytch’ parties aimed to encourage the Silver Eyed Wytch back to Morendor to stop the gang escalation.”
“Escalation?”
“In the days you were out the gang surged back in full force. Over one hundred confirmed deaths in that time frame alone; citizens are panicking, and choosing the lesser evil as it were.” The messenger replied, “To be truthful, if the prince hadn’t banned them, I would be there too. It gets more and more dangerous with every after-dusk run I make.”
With that the boy took off, running towards the castle at a speed that seemed slow to her elvensight, but for most humans was fast enough to warrant a position delivering messages to the guards.
So it seemed everyone was suffering without Silver; so much so that they wanted a killer back to stop a killer.
Romana's Freedom (Soul Merge Saga Book 1) Page 20