Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)

I would have, if it weren’t for the footsteps somewhere above me, moving toward me. I don’t know if it was the whisper, the clatter of the glass, or the groan as I had hit the floor, but something had reminded them of my existence. I had survived a week in relative security. Now that was being shattered.

The footsteps were faster than I had ever heard and the voices behind them louder, angrier. I clung to Talon, my overgrown fingernails digging into him as someone began their decent down the stairs and toward me.

“It’s only been a week, sir,” Timothy said, slightly out of breath. “You can’t expect him to have finished her off by now?”

“I can expect anything I want, Timothy,” Edmund spat, the footsteps stopping as he spoke, “Don’t make me put you in your place old friend. You have been with me from the beginning, but that does not mean you are on the same pillar as I.”

There was a pause, a pause that lasted an eternity of heartbeats and tingling nerve endings. I had no idea what they were talking about, and I didn’t care. The only thing in my mind was how close they were.

“Sorry, sir,” my father gasped, the footsteps resuming almost immediately. Everything clenched as they came closer, my brain panicking in fear of why Edmund was coming down.

“I gave him a deadline, and I expect results. If he needs a little persuasion, then so be it.” Edmund’s voice grew louder as a bright light blasted through my closed eyelids. I held as still as I could, knowing that no matter how much pretending I did, it wouldn’t stop them. The mere fact that Edmund was down here spelled danger for me.

“But are you sure this is the way?” Timothy said, disgusted.

“You should have seen his face when I threatened to unbind the curse,” Edmund said, “This is the way.”

Their voices were right outside my cell now, their conversation ending as iron bars grated together.

“Put him in that end cell down there, and then you can go.”

Footsteps, the grinding of iron, and the rattling of chains. I heard Sain grunt and I fought the urge to turn toward him, my arm jerking on its own before I could stop it. They had brought him back. Ryland was not with him, which could only mean that they had begun their attempt to kill Joclyn.

“Get up, Wynifred.”

I froze; my father’s voice was deep with warning. I knew I needed to obey, but didn’t want to face whatever Edmund had in store for me.

“Come on, Wynifred,” Edmund coaxed, his voice sweet and condescending. “Listen to your father.”

I didn’t want to listen, but I also didn’t want to push it. I moved a bit and began to push myself up to sit, my weak arms shaking as I lifted myself. My joints groaned at me as I moved, and I gasped before letting my body weight rest against the bars, my head flopping back as I looked at them.

“Hello, father,” I said with as much ire as I could, but my weak voice swallowed my pride.

“Why, Wynifred,” Edmund said, ignoring my comment to my father, “you are looking well, better than I think I have ever seen you.”

He smiled at me as he squatted, bringing himself to eye level. I clenched my jaw and scowled at him, not wanting to know what was coming.

“Not going to say hello?”

“No. I’m not.” I narrowed my eyes, daring him to continue, begging him to finish me.

“Not going to ask after my welfare?” he asked, his voice still irritatingly calm.

I stayed still, my jaw clenched. A feeling I could not place was forming in the base of my spine. It was pure irritation blended with spite and it created an emotion I had never felt before.

“Hmmm, no matter,” Edmund said and smiled. “By the time I am done with you, you will be begging me to say ‘hello’.”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I just stared at him as the door opened, his body taking a few steps in before he towered above me.

“Stand, Wynifred.” I almost laughed at him. It was a miracle I was able to move myself to sitting. Standing was out of the question.

“Not going to obey your Master?” Edmund asked, and I flinched, words that I knew I should never say to his face tumbling off my tongue before I could stop them.

“You are not my Master.”

“Well, not anymore, maybe,” he smiled, his hand patting the top of my head harshly. The weight of his touch sent me sliding down against the bars. “But once upon a time.”

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. He was right. Once upon a time, I did bow to his every command. I looked away from his towering form, burying my face in the bars to look toward Talon, my eyes seeing for the first time what the darkness had not shown me.

His eyes were sunken in, and his skin was pale and covered with a thick layer of sweat. His eyes twitched as he laid still, his lips moving as he mumbled in his sleep.

He didn’t have much time left.

I fought the desire to turn to him, to cling to him, even to plead with Edmund to heal him. Each thought was wiped from my mind as Edmund spoke, his next words barely having meaning for me.

“Years ago you would do my bidding with only a smile and a swish of your hips,” I kept my eyes on Talon as he spoke, my ears focused on the tap of Edmund’s feet against the stone around me as he moved.