Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(32)

Sain turned his head to me, his hands wrapped around the bars as he looked at me. I barely made out the crinkle in his eyes as he smiled, before footsteps started thundering down the stairwell.

I froze, regretting my scream and awaiting whatever new pain was to come. But it wasn’t pain; it was something far worse.

My father bolted down the steps and right into my cell, his strides bringing him right up to me. His hand collided with my jaw, his dark eyes staring into me wickedly. He was daring me to challenge him, daring me to speak back, glare, anything. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see beyond the blinding words Sain had just unleashed on me. They leached out of the air like a poison and zapped all the fight out of me.

“Good girl,” Timothy said, his lips turning up. He raised his hand and the chains that suspended me loosened, my body dropping to the ground as much as the chains would allow, restraining me to a high sitting position.

“Don’t cause any more problems,” Timothy spat as he walked away, just as more feet and voices echoed down to us.

“Oh god, what is that terrible stench,” Ovailia spat, her icy voice cutting through me and adding to my fear.

“The smell of fear and oppression, dear,” Cail said, laughing as he walked back in. Ovailia, Edmund, and one of their guards followed him in.

My father turned at Edmund’s arrival, bowing slightly as Edmund surveyed the circumstances around him. I tried to look away, but couldn’t. I stared at Edmund, knowing that defeat was evident on my face, knowing it didn’t matter anymore.

“Lovely,” he said, his voice stiff as he tried not to inhale. “I think you two have done a wonderful job.”

Edmund moved around in front of us, his hands clanging each of our cells as he moved past.

Ovailia followed her father, Cail right beside her. As she moved past us, her eyes taking us all in, I caught her gaze. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at the bruises on my face and the way I was strung up and immobilized.

“You’re looking well, Wynifred.” She smiled, and Cail laughed at her taunt before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the cell against the far wall.

“Hello, Sain,” she said as she kneeled down in front of Sain’s cell, bringing her eyes down to his level. The sharp points of her high heels stuck out precariously, the glistening of the black leather caught in the low light. I looked at the shoes, wishing I could grab just one of them and use it against her.

“How are you doing, dear? Did you miss me?” I could hear the laugh in her voice, the taunt, but Sain only smiled, his eyes crinkling in joy.

“I never missed you Ovailia.” Even I could hear the lie and the heartbreak that his voice held.

“How nice,” Ovailia sneered. “I have a gift for you.”

Ovailia lifted her hand, and the servant that had followed them down put a large brown mug in it. She lowered it down so that Sain could see, and he jumped, his body moving to press against the bars. Sain’s chained hands reached for it, his desperate fingers unable to reach.

“Water,” he gasped, the need in his voice showing a primal urge that I hadn’t been aware he possessed. I watched as he grasped for the mug, his fingers reaching as Ovailia’s smile increased.

“Thirsty, are we?” she asked, and the men behind her snickered.

“Calm down, Sain,” Edmund said. “You know our deal.”

The old man backed down, his chains grinding against the floor as he retreated to the corner of his cell.

“What would you have me see?” Sain asked, his voice distanced as he recited words I was sure he had said a million times before.

“Ilyan wants Ovailia to give him Ryland,” Edmund said. My head shot up, my breathing shallow. I moved against my chains, trying not to call attention to myself but wanting to hear everything. “We need to know if the boy is ready for the job we have prepared him for.”

Sain nodded once in understanding, and Cail swung the door to his cell open, letting Ovailia walk in with the mug in her hands. She walked right to him, her heels clicking loudly as she spat in the mug, her saliva dripping down the inside wall of the cup before she handed it to him with a wicked smile. He clenched it greedily, his fingers shaking as he held it against his chest.

“Not yet, Sain,” Edmund said as he too stepped into the tiny cell. I could barely make out Sain from behind the forest of legs between us.

I watched in silence as Edmund took out a tiny silver dagger, cutting his daughter’s finger and then his own, adding their blood to the mug before stepping out.

“Don’t you want to try some, Ovi?” Sain asked, causing Ovailia to turn, her heels clicking to a stop.

“I never did, Sain,” she sneered, folding her arms, her hair swinging as she glared at him. “I only told you that so you would think I loved you.”

She smiled and exited the cell, thinking she had won, but I could see the crinkle around Sain’s eyes.

“You only lie to yourself to decrease the hurt, Ovi. Don’t deny what you have felt for me.”

Ovailia turned to lunge at him, but three pairs of hands held her back. Sain had already pressed the mug to his lips and was drinking deeply of the disgusting mixture of saliva, blood, and Black Water. He drained the mug quickly, resting his head on the wall as he sighed in appreciation.

I heard the breathing of everyone accelerate as they waited, for what I was not sure. My eyes were as glued to him as theirs were, expectation heavy between us.