Eachan held Duana for as long as he could—brushing her hair from her face, trying to massage the life into her hands, calling her to come back. Tears fell from his eyes, blurring his vision. He brushed them impatiently from his cheeks. What he didn’t wipe away soaked into his mustache.
Regret filled his heart, adding to the intense pain he already felt. Why had he allowed her to step onto the porch? Why hadn’t he been more careful? If only he’d followed his instincts!
The banging on the doors and windows increased to a violent level. It didn’t matter what happened. His daughter had left—had joined her mother. He wailed, rocking back and forth.
The years of loneliness filled his body, making him ache everywhere. Guilt from his choices made him moan. If he’d only stayed with the villagers instead of choosing to obey the Lorkon, he’d still have his beloved daughter. He’d been so worried about physical corruption that he’d never considered spiritual, emotional, and mental depravity.
He buried his face in Duana’s hair, fresh tears surfacing. This time they were tears of shame, mingled with the pain. The price he’d paid to keep his family physically healthy had been high. Too high. He’d allowed himself to become truly horrendous.
Finally, when the tears had subsided, Eachan gently placed Duana on the wooden floor. He wished he could’ve done more for her—more to make her happy. Oh, how he would miss her smile.
He stood, his limbs protesting from being cramped for so long.
“I’m really, really sorry, Eachan.”
He whirled. He’d forgotten Aloren. His face lit up when an idea hit him—gave him hope that maybe things weren’t too late. There was one last thing he could do for Duana. Something which he knew would make her happy.
“They’ll be here to get you soon,” he said.
Excitement crossed her face. “Jacob?”
Eachan shook his head. “No. The Lorkon.” He spoke rapidly when she started panicking. “Aloren, I had to do it. There was no other choice. There are consequences to disobeying them. They don’t look lightly upon betrayal. They would’ve killed Duana . . .” His voice cracked and he looked down at his daughter. “If I hadn’t done it. If I hadn’t turned you in.”
“How much longer?”
“Any minute now.”
Aloren visibly shook. “I’ll do anything, Eachan. Please—”
“We have to act fast,” he said. “They don’t have to get you . . . You must hide!” Aloren jumped at the urgency in his voice. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the kitchen, then pushed her into a large cabinet, shutting the door.
“Eachan!” Her voice was muffled through the thin wood. “How will this work?”
He paused. “I don’t know.” He turned his head, listening to noises outside. Things had stilled. He ran to the front room and looked through the curtain. Two Lorkon were only a block away. Eachan raced back to the kitchen. “Quiet! They’re almost here.”
He returned to the main room, making sure to leave the door to the kitchen wide open so as to avoid suspicion. He left Duana on the floor, refusing to look at her.
The noise outside the town hall changed. The villagers moaned, pleaded, begged. Eachan parted the curtain. The tall figures were nearly at his door. They were surrounded by men and women who’d prostrated themselves on the ground, grabbing the feet and ankles of their masters. Eachan let the curtain fall shut when one of the Lorkon kicked a man away. He felt sick to his stomach just watching it.
He stood in front of the body of his daughter, facing the door when it swung open.
“Where is she?” the first Lorkon said.
“You can’t keep the villagers in this condition. They’re dangerous. They want their freedom and the lives of those who are strong and healthy. You have to allow them to—”
“Shut your mouth!” The Lorkon stepped forward. “We don’t care what they want—only what His Majesty desires. Where is she?”
“They killed her.” He stepped away from Duana’s body. “When she went out to get the dishes, the villagers attacked her. It was a trap. They saw her once, a couple of months ago, and—and killed her.”
The Lorkon glared down at Eachan. “Why didn’t you send a message?”
Eachan faltered and looked at the girl on the floor, thinking fast. “I thought maybe you’d want to retrieve her body either way. She only died a little bit ago, after you were already on your way here.”
“What would we do with a dead body?”
“I—I don’t know. Use it to get the boy?”
“He’ll come. He can’t possibly know she’s dead.” The Lorkon looked at Duana again. “Dispose of it properly,” he said to Eachan.
Eachan nodded. “Yes, yes. I’ll do that.” He frowned. “You have to give the villagers more light. They can’t live this way much longer.”
The Lorkon who’d been speaking sneered. “I’ll be sure to bring your petition up with Keitus.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Anything to make your life more . . . enjoyable.” The Lorkon stepped closer to Eachan. “If we learn you are lying, fool, we’ll kill everyone here. You included.”
Eachan maintained eye contact, not wavering this time. “I understand.” He couldn’t believe the Lorkon had accepted his lie about Aloren. It had been several years since he’d received a visit from any of them, aside from Keitus. They wouldn’t have recognized Duana anyway.
“Good. Let us know if anything more happens. You’ve been an excellent servant.”
The Lorkon stormed out of the town hall, slamming the door behind them. Eachan rushed to the curtain, making sure the disgusting beings were actually leaving. He watched in satisfaction as villagers swarmed all over the Lorkon, forcing them to take a smaller street to avoid the majority of the people.
They might not live in Maivoryl City, but they weren’t completely free of its inhabitants.
Kilenya Series Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 98