“You think I should have let him live?”
“Many will die without their control. A necessary evil.”
“Evil?” Mara took in a deep breath. “You are wrong.”
The burning sensation spread through Silas again. “Stop, please!”
Mara laughed. “You are weak. You should have stayed away. Left the country like you wanted to.”
Silas groaned as the heat eased off. “I just wanted to –”
“This is yours.” Mara stabbed the blade into Silas’s shoulder, leaving it there.
Silas screamed at the searing pain. He tried to thrash free, but only made it worse.
“I took it from you. Now you have it back. Is that what you came here for?”
“Please,” Silas shouted, “you have to stop.”
Mara grabbed the blade handle and twisted it. “Stop what? This?”
Silas screamed louder than he thought possible, the pain running from head to toe.
“I told you not to follow. I fixed you. You could have gone anywhere.”
“It is my fault.”
“What is?”
“I shouldn’t have taken you from Talon. I should have let you die in the Spring.” Silas feared what would come next as Mara stood and frowned. “Just kill me, be done with it.”
A loud crack came as Mara stamped on Silas’s head. The view of the dark grey ceiling faded away, then back in as the heat from the blade in his shoulder seared. He coughed up a mouthful of hot bile and spat it over his chin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “for everything.”
Mara brought his nose to Silas’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. You helped me. Without you, I would be nothing.”
Silas stared into Mara’s grey eyes. There was no reasoning with him. There was no boy left. “Finish it, demon.”
Mara smiled and pinched Silas’s cheek, then leant down to whisper in his ear. “You don’t get to die.”
Silas’s head wobbled gently from side to side, eyes closed. Am I dreaming? He lay on something rigid but soft and could feel himself travelling feet first. Where the hell am I going? A sharp pain crept into the middle of his head. Too much fucking ale again.
His mouth was dry, but when he tried to lick his lips, he couldn’t open them. Dried shut? I need water. His arms wouldn’t move. He focused on his chest. He breathed slowly, hardly at all.
He managed to open his left eye the tiniest amount. The slit of yellow light gave way to the shape of an arm. Mumbled voices sounded far away. A hooded head came into focus above the arm. Mara? His eye shut without his permission and wouldn’t open again. Where am I? He tried to shake. Nothing. Tried to shout. Nothing.
The next time he came round, he was being slid along a hard surface. The voices were louder now, but he still couldn’t make out what they said. He opened the eye again, still only the smallest slit, but a bright light forced it shut immediately. Was that the sun?
Each time he tried again, it was a little better until finally, he saw blue. The sky? I’m outside. The pain in his head came back, and he shut the eye to ease it. He moved again, much faster than before. He heard a squeaking sound. A cart? Am I being taken away? Arrested for being too drunk?
He tried to speak. He needed to ask what was happening but still couldn’t open his mouth, let alone make a sound. I must be tied and gagged. His heart sank as he remembered. The Shadows have me. That fucking Favian, he’s told them about the Gallinule. He tried to shake. Nothing.
Two voices, both men, and he didn’t recognise either of them. He could smell horses and felt every bump in the road. They definitely had him in the back of a cart. A new pain, not just the one in his head. Somewhere else. Why can’t I pin it down? Somewhere around his arm, shoulder, and neck. His eye wouldn’t open at all.
The cart came to a stop, and he felt a wobble and heard a few thuds. They’re getting off. This could be the Shadow Castle. He felt himself being slid backward. The voices were louder, closer, but still mumbled. He could hear a woman’s voice. A woman? It can’t be the Shadows. Has Favian abducted me himself? Is it one of his whores?
He bounced gently as they carried him on what had to be a stretcher. It became cooler all of a sudden as if under shade, footsteps click-clacking like they walked on stone. He tried his eye again, but as he did, something cold and wet covered it. It felt wonderful. Slowly, the feeling spread to his other eye. It was the first time he realised it was there. That one must be swollen badly. Whoever did this, gave me a real beating. A fucking bad one not to remember what happened.
He was placed on something soft. A bed? Arms and hands crept underneath him. The mumbled voices were close, and from the sound of it, he guessed they were counting. He rose briefly, then returned to a much softer surface, and the arms wriggled away.