“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.
Sain opened his eyes, the large orbs of green now the purest black, the very center glowing with the red heat of a fire before extinguishing to deep black like the rest. I gasped. I tried not to, but it came out anyway. Thankfully, no one looked my direction; no one seemed to hear.
Sain had opened his mouth, a deep moan releasing before he began to speak, the deep unnatural sound I had heard before taking over his voice.
“Two men stand, one will fall. Blood will drip. The game is played, and those with the most pawns will take the stage. Take your man and play the game, but be careful where your trust is laid.”
The same deep groan filled the halls as his voice faded out, his keening continuing as the voices of our captors overlapped each other, trying to decipher the sight.
I didn’t hear them; I didn’t even try to break words out of the mess of sound. I just stared at Sain, his eyes now back to their usual bright green. I wanted to make sense of the stories in those eyes. I wanted to hear the explanation and know what he had seen behind the black. He only stared, the sadness telling me all I needed to know. He had seen something, and it wasn’t good.
“Stop.” Edmund’s lone word broke through the bickering, and my focus went right back on them.
“If I send him, I could lose him. That was always an option. I don’t think Sain’s sight says that however. Cail has used the same terminology about pawns with Joclyn, this is a chess game, and it is all about foresight. The pawns are certainly in our favor.”
Edmund turned and looked over each of us, his eyes lingering for a moment on mine, the only one of the captives who stared right back. He smiled, the hatred in his face looking through me, into a future me, someone else. I could see the need to control me in his eyes, the same look he had in my dreams as he hurt the beautiful child. No one should be able to hold that much hate in their heart. I looked away as he smiled, wishing the conversation would just end, and they would leave us, taking the suffocating hate with them.
“But, Master,” Cail said, “it also said one would fall. What if that one is Ryland?”
“Then let him fall,” Edmund hissed, Timothy laughing at his outburst. “He was always just an expendable piece of property.”
“Is he strong enough?” Ovailia asked as she walked up to his cell, bending at the waist to get a better look at Ryland. “He doesn’t seem to be doing much.”
“Cail is controlling him, Ovailia,” Timothy said, his hands writhing together in excitement.
“What can he do?”