Cage of Darkness (Reign of Secrets, Book 2) Page 8

  The soldier grunted, taking hold of her arm and walking at a brisk pace.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. He didn’t respond. “Are you taking me to see the queen?”

  His fingers dug into her arm, and they turned down a dark corridor. Dread coursed through her. This man wasn’t escorting her somewhere—he was either going to torture or interrogate her. She refused to walk, and he dragged her along as if she were a child’s doll.

  They came to an open door, and he shoved her inside the room. Her blood went cold. The wall directly ahead was covered with several sets of metal handcuffs at various heights. The man lifted her wrists, locking them into one of the sets. Every ounce of her being screamed at her to fight, but her training told her otherwise.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to say, “I’m sorry you’re in this position; that you work for a ruler who asks you to do her dirty work.” Keeping her voice steady, she continued, “I know you’re only following her orders and not acting of your own free will. I want you to know that I forgive you for what you’re about to do.”

  The man cocked his head to the side, appraising her. Goose bumps covered her flesh, and her body shook. Please don’t vomit. With her arms stretched high above her head, her shoulders began throbbing. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life. The man looked away.

  Allyssa closed her eyes, thinking about everything her father, Neco, and Marek had taught her over the years. Being tortured was more mental than physical, so it was imperative that she remain calm and not lose her temper. Instead of focusing on the pain about to come, she needed to concentrate on maintaining the fragile control she had over her emotions. Taking several deep breaths, she opened her eyes and faced her torturer.

  The soldier stood there, a thin, wooden stick the length of his arm in his hand. Did he intend to hit her with that vile weapon? Her eyes widened, and all color drained from her face. She was a princess. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to her. This had to be a sick, twisted nightmare.

  “Where are Empress Rema and Emperor Darmik?”

  He wanted to know about her parents, which meant they were still in hiding. A surge of relief soared through her, making her bold. “I will not answer any of your questions.”

  He slammed the cane against the wall next to her head, making her jerk. Her parents were safe. She would endure whatever he chose to inflict upon her in order to keep them that way.

  “Does Emperion have an alliance with Fren?” He flicked the cane against his palm, making an eerie sound that caused her body to involuntarily shudder. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll be forced to use this on you.” His gentle voice made the threat more menacing.

  “So be it.” Her words sounded strong even though she was cowering inside. For her parents, she would do this. Her brilliant, kind, determined, and loving parents. They made the necessary sacrifices for their kingdom. She drew strength from that knowledge. Her mother had survived her own execution. Allyssa held onto her mother’s steadfast hope.

  “I’ve been ordered to give you ten lashings if you don’t cooperate.” His eyes narrowed.

  Did he expect her to cry and beg for mercy? Because she wouldn’t. It was his fault for assuming she was weak.

  “Have you ever seen a person hit before?” he asked, flicking the cane against his palm again.

  “No. Whipping and caning are not tolerated in Emperion. My father outlawed both practices, claiming them to be barbaric.” He had told her he’d been whipped, and that was why he refused to allow another man to undergo such cruelty. She tried not to think of being hit—of the wood striking her back. Tears filled her eyes, which only infuriated her. Allyssa didn’t want to show this soldier he was getting to her, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of being tortured. When Neco spoke of such things in training, she never expected it to come to fruition.

  “Be thankful it’s the cane and not a whip,” he said, stepping closer to her. “This cane won’t tear your skin the way a whip will.” For the first time, he looked into her eyes, but then quickly glanced away.

  “You don’t seem like the typical Russek soldier.”

  “And what do you know about us Russeks? Did you read something in a book? Reports from your spies?” He cocked his head to the side, studying her.

  “You’re an interrogator,” she blurted out. “Not a torturer.” The realization shocked her. While her situation was far from ideal, having her life in this man’s hands, instead of a sadist’s, was more than she could hope for. Queen Jana must want insurance that Allyssa wouldn’t accidentally die. At least, not yet.

  “It doesn’t matter what I am or am not. My queen has sent me here to do a job, and I plan to do it.” His fingers curled around the cane as he took another step toward her. “I don’t have to strike you at all if you just tell me where your parents are.”

  Allyssa almost laughed. Almost. If Russek didn’t know the location of her parents, they couldn’t be certain their letters made it to the Emperion royal family. If Rema and Darmik didn’t know Allyssa’s fate, then Russek couldn’t use her as a bargaining chip. Her value lay in the ability to get to her parents. But if she was of no value to Russek, would they kill her for spite? Surely they would never let her go.

  She kept her mouth shut, staring at the soldier for several minutes until his shoulders sagged. “You won’t cooperate, will you?”

  “Never.”

  He nodded. “Prisoners are punished naked.”

  There was no way she was taking off her clothes. He’d have to kill her first. “I am not a prisoner. I am a political hostage. There is a difference between the two.”

  He readjusted his grip on the cane. “I can lift up your tunic to expose your back. I can inflict the punishment there.”

  Allyssa nodded, unable to utter a response. She turned to face the wall. The soldier pushed her shirt up, revealing her bare skin.

  Before she could think about how humiliated she was, there was a soft hiss and then a whack as the cane struck her back, sending a searing pain through her entire body. She cried out in agony, not expecting it to hurt so severely. There was another hiss as the cane came down again, slapping against her skin. She wanted to fight back, but she knew she was at his mercy. Fighting against him would only prolong the punishment. And she had the feeling that he wasn’t hitting her as hard as he could.

  Another hiss and then a whack as he struck her skin again. She screamed, her back throbbing with a pain she never knew possible. Tears poured down her cheeks. Hiss, whack. She cried out, her voice echoing in the dungeon. Blackness hovered at the edges of her vision. Hiss, whack. Her legs started shaking. If the soldier hit her any harder, the bones in her back would break. Neco had told her that the point of interrogating or torturing a person was to break them. Until this moment, she didn’t understand what he meant.

  After ten lashings, the Russek soldier pulled her tunic down, covering her back. The fabric felt like coarse sand being rubbed against her skin. When he unlatched the manacles, she collapsed to the ground, wanting to crawl into a hole. Reaching down, he lifted her up. Without speaking, he carried her back to her cell, laying her on the straw. A minute later, she passed out.

  Chapter Ten

  Allyssa woke up in excruciating pain. Carefully lifting her tunic, she felt her back—it was covered with welts. Lying on her stomach, she prayed the throbbing discomfort would lesson soon. At least her parents were safe because of her.

  She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been beaten, or even what time of day it was. The only light in her room came from a small oil lamp encased in an iron cage hanging on the wall. A bowl of mush and a cup of water had been placed in her room. The thought of eating was too much, and she drifted back asleep.

  ***

  Time floated by. Every so often, someone shoved food into her cell. She slept, lay awake thinking of her parents, and slept some more. A voice in her head kept yelling at her to eat so her body didn’t waste away in this
hellhole. No matter how dire the situation, her mother had never given up, so she couldn’t either. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, crawling over to the tray. Trying not to breathe in its awful stench, she ate the gritty food, almost vomiting several times. She couldn’t think about how it smelled like rotten meat—especially since there wasn’t any meat in the food. It was best just to hold her nose and swallow. When she finished, she curled her fingers, making a fist, and got to her knees. People had survived far worse than this. Sitting there crying would do her no good. Her father would insist she get up and fight for herself—right now that meant regaining her strength.

  She stood. While her back hurt, it would heal since no permanent damage had been done. She walked around the perimeter of her cell, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cold, damp air. After five rotations, she went back to her cot and laid down. That was enough for now.

  The next morning, she forced herself to eat and complete ten laps around the cell. Her strength gradually returned over the next couple of days, and the pain of being caned began to fade away to a horrid memory. Once Allyssa felt well enough, she started exercising. The days were long. The nights longer. Her father had been right—the worst part about being held captive was the mental aspect of it. She desperately tried to keep her spirits up so if an opportunity to escape presented itself, she’d be ready.

  ***

  The interrogator returned. Without uttering a single word, he took hold of Allyssa’s upper arm, leading her back to the room he’d caned her in.

  “Are you going to hit me again?” she asked.

  He didn’t respond as he shoved her onto a crude wooden chair. The floor below the chair was covered with dark red, almost black, dried blood. The interrogator lifted her right arm, placing it on the arm of the chair. Then he swung a metal devise around her wrist, locking her arm into place.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, panic swelling inside of her.

  “You are not interrogating me,” he mumbled. “I will ask the questions; you will answer.”

  He knelt, taking the chain bolted to the stone floor and wrapping it around her ankles, securing her feet to the ground. He stood and took her left arm, locking it to the arm of the chair.

  “Where are your parents?” he asked.

  She gulped. Whatever he planned to do, it had to be worse than the caning. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. “I don’t know.”

  “What were their plans before you were kidnapped?” He picked up some sort of tool, holding it in the palm of his hand.

  “They were at the castle when I left. They had no plans beyond sending me to Fren.” Her breathing sped up.

  “Did you sign a marriage contract with Prince Odar?”

  “Why does the queen care?” she replied.

  He took a step closer. “Do you care for Prince Odar?”

  “No. Now let me go. I’ve answered all of your questions.” Sweat dripped down her cheeks. It tickled, but she couldn’t lift an arm to wipe it away.

  “You have not answered my questions truthfully.”

  “How would you know?” she spat. It became cold. Too cold.

  The man’s face looked grim. “I’ve been doing this a long time.” He pulled out a stool and sat on it. His finger lightly traced each of her fingers. “Such pretty hands. It would be a shame if something happened to them.”

  She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “I don’t know!”

  He took the tool and placed it at the end of her thumb. “Where are your parents?”

  “In Emperion.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” But she did. They were hiding in Emperor’s City. That information would go with her to her grave.

  The man lifted a lever, and the tool opened. He placed it over the tip of her thumb and closed it so it pinched her nail. “Last chance. Where are your parents?”

  “I’ll never tell you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Pain exploded through her thumb as the tool ripped out her nail. Blood gushed everywhere, and Allyssa screamed every curse word she knew. “There’s no need to continue torturing yourself,” the man said, wiping away her tears. “Simply tell me what I want to know, and this ends.”

  She couldn’t look at her hand. Instead, she focused on the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing. Her mother and father’s lives depended on her.

  “Where are your parents?” he asked again. She remained silent. He moved the tool to her pointer finger. “Where are they?”

  It was worse the second time when she knew what to expect. The pain of having each fingernail ripped from her body sent her into shock. There was so much blood. She hated these Russek barbarians. They would pay. Each and every one of them would pay.

  When he finished, he wrapped her hands with cloth. She vomited and blacked out.

  ***

  Days passed. Allyssa fell into a routine: sleep, exercise, eat, and then she’d repeat the cycle. All the while, anger, hatred, and confusion consumed her. She tried not to think about where she was, how she got here, and what had been done to her. Focusing on getting stronger and staying healthy gave her purpose and kept her mind off the incessant pain.

  This particular day started out the same as the previous ones. Allyssa awoke to the sound of a man screaming. She knew and understood the terror in that scream. One day, she hoped to hear Jana and Soma make that sound. She started doing three sets of twenty-five sit-ups. Her muscles shook, her stomach cramping. Still, she pushed herself, hatred for the royal Russek family fueling her on.

  When finished, she unwound the fabric covering her hands. Taking a big breath, she braced herself and looked at her fingers. Thick, red scabs covered the tips, the nails already starting to grow back. They had healed enough that they no longer needed to be covered.

  The door to her cell flew open, and the interrogator entered. Allyssa scrambled to her feet. The man took an intimidating step into the cell, and she backed up against the wall, wanting to put space between them.

  “You look well,” he said. “No visible marks.”

  She laughed and held up her hands.

  He scratched his chin. “It’s not enough.”

  Before she could question him, he raised his large arm and backhanded her across the cheek. Her head hit the wall with a thud, stars exploding in her vision. She couldn’t take anymore. The soldier kicked her thigh, sending her to the ground. The muscles in her leg throbbed as if they had been shredded apart.

  “That will leave noticeable injuries.” He left.

  Crawling across the stone floor, she rolled onto her straw cot and curled up. It was never going to end. The pain…the torture. Maybe she should tell him what he wanted to know. No…he didn’t care—Jana did. This was all about her breaking Allyssa in order to destroy Rema and Darmik. She couldn’t give in. Ever. No matter how bad it got, she would endure for her parents.

  As she lay there, images of Rema and Darmik drifted before her. Running into her parents’ bedchamber early in the morning, riding horses with her mother, sword play with her father. She clung to those memories, to the love of her family. She would survive. And then she would seek revenge.

  ***

  The door flew open, and three soldiers entered, filling the entire space with their presence. One yanked Allyssa to her feet, dragging her out of the cell.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. No one answered. With one soldier in front, one holding her arm, and the third behind her, they made their way along the dark hallway of the dungeon. Were they taking her to be tortured? What else could they do to her? Images of the mutilated Emperion soldiers flashed in her mind. She wanted to peel the soldier’s hand off her arm, but her fingertips were still too tender. “Let go.” She meant for it to come out as a demand; instead, it sounded like a whimper.

  The soldiers laughed. She tried to dig her heels into the ground, but the man holding her didn’t slow, despite her
limp. Could she survive another interrogation? Her mind screamed at her to beg them to help her, or to fight for her freedom. But her dignity demanded she face what was coming head-on. Bloody hell. It felt like she was going to vomit. The man holding her loosened his grip. She realized her body was shaking.

  They made several turns in the labyrinth before ascending three flights of stairs. Tears slid down her cheeks from the pain in her leg and the fear of the unknown. They exited the dungeon. Torches lit the dark walls and several mismatched worn rugs covered the floor. It felt like floating through a dream as she was being led along the corridors of the Russek castle. The men escorting her stopped before a large door where two sentries stood guard.

  Allyssa swore she could hear her heart pounding as the door swung open to reveal the Throne Room. Approximately one hundred people milled about laughing and speaking merrily to one another. Not wanting to be dragged in front of these people and thrown at the queen’s feet, she stepped into the room on her own and limped down the aisle toward the dais, the guards surrounding, but not touching, her.

  Those gathered gradually noticed her, and a hush descended over the room. Whatever was about to happen, the queen wanted these people to witness it. Taking a deep breath, Allyssa continued walking toward the dais while observing the members of court. Many of the men were huge—not only tall but broad shouldered and stocky. They had to be retired soldiers or higher-ranking military officers. These were members of the royal family’s inner circle, and Allyssa wouldn’t find sympathy among them.

  Queen Jana sat on one of the Throne Chairs, Princess Shelene and Prince Soma standing to her left. The second Throne Chair remained unoccupied, which meant the king wasn’t here. Odar was nowhere in sight. Allyssa prayed he hadn’t been executed. She balled her hands into fists, willing her shaking arms to be still so her fear wouldn’t be so evident.

  Shelene whispered something to Soma and laughed, the simple gesture lighting up her beautiful face. Soma, however, remained cold and hard. Allyssa stopped at the bottom of the dais, a soldier on each side of her. She raised her eyebrows, refusing to bow or kneel before Russek royalty, and waited for the queen to speak.