Silence meets my question for a long moment. Then another of the witches reaches out her hand, using her long, black, stained fingers to wrap around the entirety of my upper face.
“What would you give us?” she asks simply. “To save your life, what would you give?”
“You promised her that you would rid us of the curse! You already told me that you would save her life, and then they came for her! Have you no honor? Does your word meannothing?” I demand, desperate. Feral. Dying.
I’m too distraught to watch their expressions, but I note the long pause before the same one speaks again.
“We told you that we would try. We failed, and for that I am…sorry.”
“Then heal me, and I will forgive you.”
“We need more than that.”
I grind my teeth. Loathing chills my body even more. “I have riches back in my home.”
“We have no need of wealth,” one of the witches responds.
“I have the ear of the king of trolls. Of his human queen, as well. They could be your allies if you proved yourself honorable.” I remember that Arlet got them to admit guilt over not playing a more active role in the fate of the humans. Perhaps, if I continue to mount the guilt, I will find a solution. They lived on this island, mostly safe, while their kin were sold as chattel.
The fingers covering my face, the ones that squeeze ever so lightly, twitch.
“You would give us an audience with your king and queen? Do you truly have such power?”
“I am the personal advisor to the king. I will be able to make it a reality with ease.”
“Duerme,” she commands in her language.
“Will that be suffi—” My mouth goes slack. My body has no choice but to respond, leaving me in this limbo.
Chapter 2
ARLET
The trip to Shvathemar passed slowly, with me locked under the deck in a prepared room. The cursed voice that tormented me so fully on my journey here has gone quiet. I suppose that is to be expected since I am “obeying” by heading directly to Arion.
I shiver at the thought.
Well done, the voice whispered after Thorne, the emissary who lived in Enduvida for months, fooling us the whole time into believing he was an ally, had cut open my leg and released a magical tracker that could be used to find the most powerful elven artifact in existence. An artifact that would give him enough power to unite all the elven factions under his dominion and kill anyone who opposed him. Especially his own sister, Mrath.
And then, after storing that magical current, both of them abandoned me to this quiet room while we sailed across the seas.
In the mind-numbing silence, I am forced to do nothing but think. On the one hand, I am grateful not to have the murderous, violent voice whispering to me, awaking when I sleep, and coaxing me to kill anyone in close proximity. But I miss arms around me while I slept. I miss companionship.
I peel back the bandage wrapped tightly around my ankle and wince. To no avail, I have been trying to heal the deep wound sliced through my Curse Mark, mangling the image of the snake. The scab oozes and aches all day long, despite the cream they’ve given me to prevent infection.
I replay the moment when Thorne shoved me into a room and cut the mark open. Lying on that table, terrified and bleeding, was the first time I realized just what a pawn I am in this game, and how foolish I had been to agree to go to Arion.
Effectively, I have betrayed Mrath by carrying the key to her biggest secret—what she wishes to use to overthrow her brother’s reign—and promised to do the one thing I have not been able to do in many years: bear a child.
He sido una imbécil.
My eyes burn.
After applying the cream, I rewrap the site tighter than before, wincing at the pain.
What were you thinking? How could you promise so much?
The faces of those in Enduvida return to me. The children. My neighbors. My friends and family. I agreed to this to help them.