Chapter 29
Now
My eyes moved warily over the forms of Kauvras’ soldiers. Somehow, the diadem was still on my head. Maybe Onerahadgranted me a miracle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of these fuckers took it from me. Looking over both shoulders, I feigned a spasm, throwing my head forward, the diadem falling into my lap. I had little use of my hands beneath the chains, but I brought my knees to my chest and managed to shove the diadem under my skirts, tearing it through the layers of ruffles, hoping it would stay put through whatever was to come.
“In line!” The words were howled over and over as soldiers spun keys around their fingers. A soldier had begun to unlock chains and push the prisoners to line up by the castle door. Two other soldiers began locking a new set of manacles around each pair of hands, hitching them to a long chain. We were to be chained together. Like cattle. I knew that it would be pointless to reach for the dagger at my thigh.
The soldier who unchained me said nothing. His hands lingered too long on my skin, the grime under his fingernails like black crescent moons against my wrists. I felt his eyes on me from behind a mask sculpted into a ram’s head. I wanted him toget the fuck away.
I made sure to follow the cues of the other prisoners, most of which were cycling through dejection and spells of weeping. My gown was stiff with blood, the ruffles crusted and rigid, but the knowledge that the diadem was nestled among them gave me the tiniest sliver of comfort. I kicked my high heels off when the swelling of my foot made them impossible to keep on. I still hadn’t been able to look, but it felt like the arrow wound on my thigh and the whip mark on my back had at least clotted — maybe another miracle to thank Onera for.
We were pulled from the courtyard back through the halls of the castle, the soldiers taking advantage of their authority by hurling fists into the stomachs, spines, or faces of anyone who so much as stumbled. I was on the receiving end of more than one punch to the gut as I limped, trying to keep weight off of my broken foot.Good fucking Saints.Weren’t we supposed to be missionaries? Did other missionaries receive beatings like this from their leaders?
The buzzing roar that was background noise in my head had subsided, replaced by the echoes of cries bouncing off the stone walls of the corridors. I kept my eyes low, trying once again to get a lay of the castle that was so foreign to me. Had I been here before? Was this familiar?
Stairs. Crimson velvet drapes. A large set of doors. I knew where we were. We were in the entry hall where the Board of Blood had made their introductions. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but just three days had passed since Ludovicus paced the marble floors before me. There was no sign of guards and I realized they probably had taken the pipe too.
The chain was yanked, pulling all of the prisoners forward in a lurching mess of limbs and lavish clothing. Sunlight dissolved the dusty darkness of the hall as the massive doors swung open. The low roar in my head resumed immediately.
The doors opened to a drive high above the city.
The city that now burned before me.
Columns of smoke rose from every direction, ashes drifting like snow. I could see people running through alleys and lanes to escape masked men. People were being pinned to the sidewalk, to buildings, pipes being shoved in their mouths. Bodies both whole and in pieces littered the streets. Horses ran amok, rearing at the sight of swords and smoke.
The roar hadn’t been coming from inside my head.
It had been screams. A symphony of yells, screams, and sobs from the residents of a city that lay in ruin, ricocheting off the city walls to echo in my bones.
The rage in the air was palpable as lives were lost one way or another to the violet smoke. From high above the city, it looked like nothing but a swarm of ants on crumbs, the movements so erratic and sudden that it was impossible for my eyes to rest on one person at a time. Every scream was fingernails dragging down my back. I watched the residents of Eserene rip at their hair and clothing and skin as Kauvras’ soldiers tried to subdue them. There weren’t nearly enough soldiers to hold everyone who had taken the drug.
So they raged.
A man slammed his head against a brick wall until it was bloody, until the movements grew slower and he collapsed in a heap on the ground, blood pooling from his crushed skull. I saw a small child scream as she ripped at her hair. Two women close to my age tore at each other’s skin, the blood on the ground collecting the falling ashes like leaves on a pond.
The chain snapped forward as we were pulled toward the road that wrapped around the castle, connecting it to the city below. As we rounded each bend, new screams pierced my ears, many falling silent shortly after. Everywhere I looked, there was someone taking the pipe or fighting it or erupting with need or lying dead.
The other prisoners chained alongside me did not have any sort of reaction to the melee below. They all remained silent, their faces betraying no sense of terror. I harnessed every ounce of strength I had to keep my face blank. Neutral. No cause for suspicion that the drug may not be eliciting the same response from me as the other poor souls. But every new scream made the bile rise higher and higher in my throat. Smoke from the leechthorn and burning buildings and charred skin stuck in my nose, the smell suffocating, my eyes watering.
Pellucid Harbor had been breached, the breakwall missing large chunks. Massive, ink-black sails rose above the water, the Cabillian crest’s gold dragon flying menacingly through the smoke. The docks were on fire, planks slowly slipping under the surface of the water. The waterfront was crawling with soldiers.
My gaze stayed on the ground as we reached the east side of the castle road, where I knew the very edges of Inkwell could be seen pushed up against the city wall. I needed to look, needed to know, even though a part of me already did.
Slowly, I forced myself to lift my gaze. Not only black smoke, but angry flames rose into the air, the entire view of Inkwell obscured by fire. Everything I had ever known prior to the last four months was burning in that little corner of Eserene. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ground out in protest, threatening to crack.
If I weren’t chained, I would have thrown myself over the edge of the road and let the cobblestones deliver me to Cyen’s doorstep.
The soldiers leading us said nothing as we reached the bottom of the castle’s road. They simply pulled us toward the city streets slick with blood, to the carnage and the slaughter..
From a street that had been obscured by a crumbling brick building, figures began to emerge. Even though they were still hazy behind the smoke, I could make out the whirling silhouettes of Eserenian citizens as they violently bucked against the two soldiers that held each of them.
“Hold!” the soldier at the front commanded. The chain stopped as soldiers who had been in the front rushed to the back of the line. The sound of clanging metal pierced the air as the chain rattled to a stop. One by one, person after person, men, women, children, elderly, disabled, all of them were chained behind me. Anyone they could get their hands on, anyone they were able to force the pipe on then subdue. “Proceed!”
Through the city we walked, a chain of prisoners in varying states of agony and anger. Every few blocks we stopped and more links were added to the chain, more Eserenians whose lives were over.
I’m not sure if it was shock or numbness or maybe both, but as we neared the city wall, I stopped seeing the fires, smelling the smoke, hearing the screams. I no longer felt my broken foot or the gaping wound in my thigh. I didn’t feel my head singing with pain, my burning back, my broken ribs, my jaw that was undoubtedly swollen. My brain melted like wax. My vision glazed over. I fell into the rhythm of being yanked and pushed.
Our shadows grew longer as the sun sank toward the wall.