Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(15)

"Will someone shut her up?" I heard Timothy yell above my screams. I should have seen someone coming, but I was so focused on Talon’s limp body in the cell next to mine that I didn't know anyone had come into my cell until a foot collided with my stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of me and sending me back against the wall.

I stopped screaming as I groaned in pain, gasping for breath. The chains around my wrists clattered as I slid down the wall, my arms pulling back into their extended position above my head. I couldn't take my eyes off Talon. I panted with pain as I watched him, my heart pleading with me to find a way over to him, my mind yelling at me that it was impossible. I looked at Talon until a strong hand grasped my jaw, causing me to wince at the pressure he placed on the tender skin as he turned me to face him.

"Don't push me, Wynifred,” Cail sneered right in my ear before his closed fist hit me hard against my cheek.

I stayed silent as I turned back to look at him, my eyes narrowing in fight and warning. It was a useless threat; there wasn’t anything I could do to him. He smiled once before moving out of the cell to stand in the small hallway that lined the jail block.

"Ryland," Cail said, his attention turning from me to the black-eyed man behind him. My head whipped up as Cail spoke his name. I don’t know why I didn’t expect him to be here. Ryland was just as much one of Edmund’s puppets as my brother was now.

Ryland stepped forward, his face blank, his curls limp as they hung damp around his head. "Go sit by Sain, and chain your legs together."

Sain? The first of the Drak? The one Ovailia betrayed? The one Edmund killed? My head bounced between Cail and Ryland, hoping for a clue about who they were talking about. Without a word, Ryland walked into the cell with the battered man, sat down next to him, and chained his own ankles.

Sain.

Sain. It couldn't be; it just couldn't. My mind begged me not to believe it, but deep down I knew it was true. Sain looked at me with those bright green eyes of his, his one glance daring me to deny what I already knew. He was Sain. I had no idea how, or why, but I was sure it was him.

Ryland's movements were stiff, his vision unfocused as he followed Cail's odd demands. I looked between all of them: my brother and father who were focused on Ryland, Talon's limp body in the cell next to mine, Ryland as a shell of himself, and Sain, his green eyes still boring into mine, the power behind them evident even beneath the blood soaked hair and the bruised face.

Timothy moved over to where Ryland and Sain sat, Sain lifting his chained hands up to him. Timothy removed one of the chains from Sain’s wrist and reattached it on Ryland's. Sain did not fight, and Ryland did not move. The eeriness of it scared me. I didn't know what they were doing, and I didn't want to.

"Ready," Timothy said as he stepped out of the cell, closing the door to the tiny space behind him and trapping the two men inside. "Turn him off, son."

"Yes, Father," Cail said obediently, and for one split second, the prison was quiet except for the sound of my chains as I looked between them. The sound of my heart was like a beating drum in my ears as the silence pumped me full of dread. They were waiting for something, and the mystery as to what was terrifying. The silence dragged before the air opened up with a scream so mournful that I jumped, my own tears threatening as my soul understood the absolute heartbreak that the sound encompassed.

I recoiled into myself as Ryland began to writhe and fight against the chains that he had bound himself with only moments before. Sain's emaciated body moved around like a rag doll with each of Ryland’s spasms as he fought against his own restraints. Ryland screamed and yelled and howled, his now blue eyes panicked as he attempted to claw his way out of the cell.

I watched him as he reeled and fought, my heart thumping. This was like no side of Ryland I had ever seen. This was not the compliant Ryland that Cail seemed to control. It was not the aggressive Ryland that had attacked us at the party, nor was he the calm and loving boy that I had seen with Joclyn before this all began. He was desperate, emotionally unstable and terrifying. It was the terrifying factor that affected me the most. That raw primal aggression was powerful as he repeatedly lunged against his chains, hitting his head against the bars in an attempt to move through them.

I scooted as far away from him as possible. My arms stretched painfully above me as I moved toward Talon, knowing he couldn't protect me, but needing to move away from the scene in the cell in front of me. As much as I wanted to move away, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I am not sure I would have been able to look away even if I hadn’t been chained. I am not sure I wanted to. A part of me needed to see what they had done to Ryland, to understand what was coming for me.

"Joclyn!" he screamed, his voice weak and breaking. "What have you done to her?" Ryland continued to scream and writhe as Cail laughed, his footsteps heavy as he moved to stand in front of Ryland’s cell, right next to our father.

"I haven't done anything to her," Cail said innocently. "What you should be wondering is what you have done to her."

Ryland froze, his jaw working in terror, "What I did?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did… nothing…nothing… I’m good. Not hurt…”

Ryland rambled for a moment, his words disjointed as his head twitched around.

"What did you make me do?" Ryland asked, the sporadic action disappearing quicker than it had come on.