Ruined (Ruined, #1)(40)

“Yes, I’m sure all the people Wenda Flores tortured felt the same,” his father said flippantly. “The people she captured to let the Ruined practice on? The people of Vallos she slaughtered when she attempted to invade?”

“Damian is not Wenda Flores. Wenda Flores was one person, and she’s gone. We’re punishing all the Ruined for the crimes of the few.”

“The Ruined are not individuals. They act as a unit, always.” He gestured to where Damian had disappeared into the ground. “This is the only one you’ve met. You don’t understand.”

“Just because I disagree with you doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

The king’s jaw twitched. “What is this? Is this what Mary thinks?”

“This is what I think.”

“What a coincidence that it comes out a few weeks after marrying that girl.” He said that girl as if it were a dirty word.

“The girl you ordered me to marry,” Cas reminded him.

The king grunted. “Nothing like her parents. Perhaps she forgot everything about them after they died, because those two detested the Ruined.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I was wrong to make you marry her without getting to know her first. If I’d known . . .”

“What?” Anger flared in Cas’s chest. “That she could think for herself? That she would challenge us, instead of going along with everything we said?”

The king frowned in thought, running a hand over his beard. “Maybe there’s a way to get you out of it.”

Cas reeled back, the words like a slap to the face. Unexpected panic crept in at the thought of losing Mary.

“You are not allowed to have an opinion on my marriage,” Cas said, his voice like ice. “That contract is between me and Mary now. Do you understand me?”

His father looked so astonished that he didn’t seem to have the words to reply to that.

“I’m going down to talk to Damian,” Cas said. “Maybe he’ll tell me if he’s actually committed a crime. If he has, then we can talk about appropriate punishment. But if he hasn’t, we’re holding and torturing a man who has done nothing wrong. I don’t know what’s more horrifying—our actions, or the fact that you don’t seem the least bit bothered by them.”

He turned away from his father’s startled face and descended the steps into the dungeon. He let out a slow breath, willing his heart to stop thumping a frantic rhythm in his chest. He was shaky but lighter, the weight of the words building inside him for so long finally gone.

“I—I can’t do that again. I—I don’t . . .” The male voice drifted up from below. Cas slowed his descent, listening.

“We’ll rotate the guards out,” Galo said. “No one will have to do this more than once.” He paused. “Ric, don’t you dare vomit down here.”

Cas took the last step. Two guards stood at the far wall, and Cas knew immediately which one was Ric. He was young and pale, his hands shaking. The guard quickly put them behind his back when he saw Cas.

“There’s no need for you two to be down here,” Cas said. “Will you wait at the top?” The guards nodded and rushed past him.

Galo stood in front of Damian’s cell, and Cas stopped next to him. Damian was crumpled on the floor, his face bloody and swollen. Fresh blood was smeared across his shirt.

“The hunters left, didn’t they?” Cas asked quietly.

“Yes. This morning. Except for the one who cracked his head open.”

“They never revived him?”

“No, he was dead when I got to him.”

“So my father had the guards take the lead torturing Damian.”

“Yes.”

Cas pushed his fingers through his hair. “Torture isn’t exactly in their job description.”

“No, it’s not. They asked for volunteers, but . . .”

“No one volunteered.” Cas felt a swell of pride for the guards suddenly. “Good for them.”

Damian’s head jerked as one of his eyes opened. The other was swollen shut. He rolled onto his side, and it seemed to take him a moment for him to focus well enough to recognize Cas standing at his cell door.

He laughed, a sad, hollow sound that echoed through the dungeon. He rolled over onto his back, wincing as he put a hand to his stomach.

“I’ve died, haven’t I?” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Always figured there was punishment waiting for me after death. Your face is my punishment, isn’t it?”

“You’re not dead,” Cas said.

“Too bad.” Damian moved his jaw around, as if checking to see if it still worked.

“How old are you?” Cas asked.

Damian’s forehead crinkled as he frowned. He took several beats to answer. “Seventeen. Or eighteen. I lost track.”

“Do you have any family?”

“Yes. Though everyone related to me by blood has been murdered.” He lowered his voice. “But yes, I have family.”

“Is that why you were crossing into Olso? Are they there?”

He laughed, a genuine one that shook his chest. “No.”

Cas paused, glancing over at Galo. The guard stood only a few steps away, his brow furrowed as he watched them. He debated asking Galo to leave, but maybe Cas needed him to hear this conversation with Damian. He needed to know if Galo felt the same as Cas, or if his thinking was more in line with the king’s.