The sound of dripping filled a constant counterpoint to the whirling thoughts spinning one after the other through Amber’s head. She didn’t know if it was night or day. The only guide she had to go by was the shining green prism, filling her every waking moment with dread.
She’d been in the cell for days, though it was hard to keep track of exactly how long it had been. She wondered how the search for Katerina, High Lord Grigori’s daughter, was going. Her heart reached out the innocent girl; Sergei Rugar had probably killed the poor child.
Amber thought about the enchanters she’d sent north to Lake Vor. Would they come for her? She knew in her heart, though, that as soon as they saw the green light, they would rush back to Sarostar, skipping Rosarva. There would be no help coming.
Amber raised her head when she heard a heavy clanging, followed by the rattle of keys, and then the groan of metal against metal. Footsteps sounded moistly on the damp floor of the dungeons beneath the Borlag. Bright light suddenly assaulted her.
Amber shielded her eyes against the glare. Eventually the shining moved away from her face, and she blinked to restore her vision.
High Lord Grigori Orlov lowered the pathfinder in his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and his clothes rumpled; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Just tell me where she is,” Grigori pleaded.
Amber looked for Sergei, but for once he wasn’t present. Realizing her chance, she climbed unsteadily to her feet and approached the bars.
“Please,” Amber said, “listen to me. You told Katerina she would be high lord after you, is that correct?”
Grigori frowned, his forehead creasing over his wide-spaced eyes. “It’s common knowledge.”
“Has Sergei Rugar told you how he feels about one day following a woman? Has he shared with you his ambition to become high lord himself ?”
Grigori held up his hand. “Please, enough of your lies. If you tell me where my daughter is, and she is unharmed, I will send you back to your people. Much as I would prefer to see you rot down here, I will make this pledge. Amber Torresante of Altura: Where is my daughter?”
“I don’t know!” Amber said. “Your trusted lord marshal isn’t what he appears to be. He’s done this to discredit me and my people’s call for help while also ensuring a woman can never rule House Vezna. You have to understand . . .”
“What’s going on here?” a strong masculine voice said, and Sergei strode into the room, flanked by two of the palace guards. “Oh, it’s you, High Lord.”
“Sergei, your methods are not achieving results,” the high lord said.
Lord Marshal Sergei looked at Grigori and then at Amber. “I am doing my best, High Lord. She’s been fed nothing but water, and even then . . .”
“Starving her is not enough to restore my daughter!” Grigori shouted.
“Don’t you think if I knew where she was, I would bargain with you?” Amber pleaded.
“Enough!” the high lord cried. He rounded on Sergei. “You’ve made her uncomfortable, nothing more. Alturans are known for their obstinacy. I want you to make her skin crawl. I want you to make her beg you for mercy. If you can get results without visible damage, more the better. But I’m asking you to find my daughter, Sergei, or perhaps your own head will roll.”
The high lord was the bigger man, and he emphasized his points with a jutting finger prodded into Sergei’s lean chest. The blonde-haired Veznan blanched, and when the high lord paused, he nodded.
“As you wish, High Lord,” Sergei assented.
Grigori Orlov stomped from the room, taking the palace guards with him. Sergei and Amber were soon alone.
“I hoped he would be content with imprisonment,” Sergei said. He shrugged. “I am sorry, Lady Amber, but I am going to have to make you scream for appearances sake. It’s nothing personal.”
Amber felt fear send cold fingers up and down her spine.
Sergei disappeared for several minutes.
Amber called out for help and looked for a weapon. She rattled the bars and thought furiously, but this dungeon was built to hold stronger captives than her.
All too soon Sergei returned with one of the dungeon guards by his side, a different sort than the proud palace soldiers, with a bare chest and big calloused hands. Terror surged through Amber’s body as the guard looked her up and down and gave her an evil grin.
“You don’t need to do this,” Amber whispered.