Tristan backed away. “You have the strength within you, Gavin Lorren. You have always had that strength within you. You must find it.”
“How?”
“If I were able to tell you, then you wouldn’t be able to find it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense, especially if you understood the power you possess.”
“I don’t possess any power.”
“Not with that attitude, you don’t.”
Gavin continued to strain against the ropes, but he could do nothing to escape from them. He tried pulling on them, struggling with the bindings. At least now that his blindfold had been removed, he could see what was holding him. The room was small, just enough to contain the chair he sat in, along with a basin near the wall. Tristan blocked his view of the door, though he could make out the faint outline of it. The thin light trailed into the room, barely enough for him to see. A faint glow surrounded Tristan. That was probably Gavin’s imagination, or the effort he put into trying to break through the ropes.
The ropes were wrapped tightly all around him. His hands and feet were as free as he’d suspected, but he couldn’t even move his fingers up to try to grasp for a section of the rope. He tried to shimmy his legs to loosen his bindings, but that didn’t work either.
Gavin struggled again, and then he threw himself back.
Maybe I could break through the chair.
He strained, jerking against the straps and trying to pry his arms free, but every attempt failed. The bindings cut into his skin. Gavin pushed that pain away, ignoring the surge of agony that ripped through him.
His mentor had taught him how to do everything he knew. And now he wanted Gavin to learn how to break free of these ropes. Only, the chair was too stout for him to shatter. How was he supposed to break through ropes if he couldn’t even break through the chair they were wrapped around?
He sat there and waited. Eventually, Tristan would have to return. He would come back and untie Gavin, or perhaps he would pose another challenge.
He never did.
Time passed. Gavin’s throat began to dry. His bladder burst, and he soiled himself. Still Tristan didn’t return.
Gavin waited. This had to be some sort of test. Eventually Tristan would return. But as time went on, he slowly realized that his mentor wasn’t going to come. If he was going to get out, he’d to have to break free, much the way Tristan told him he’d have to.
Gavin had no idea what was required, but he didn’t think he had the necessary strength. The bindings around him were too tight, and he didn’t have any way to loosen them. If Tristan somehow believed he’d be able to rip through them with strength, then he was mistaken.
Frustration filled him. Gavin focused on his training, looking for some solution he had yet to see. Oftentimes, Tristan had already shown him the answer, and Gavin only had to find it. Too often, though, it was too difficult.
He focused on the energy within him, what Tristan had called a core reserve of energy. A place of power. It was deep within him, and if he focused enough, if he dove within that power, Gavin might be able to call upon it and use that to get free. He steadied himself, breathing in and out, holding onto that sense of energy.
There.
Gavin pressed on the bindings wrapped around him, holding onto them as tightly as he could. The ropes strained, and he could feel the pressure around him, everything working into his flesh.
Still he pushed.
There was that core reserve of power.
But with as long as he had gone without food and water—time he’d lost track of—Gavin doubted whether he would even have enough strength or reserve to break free.
Even if I did, would Tristan know that I was free?
Maybe Tristan didn’t care.
Gavin no longer knew whether any of this mattered to the man. It was possible that Tristan had only wanted him tested; to starve, to suffer. It wouldn’t be the first time Tristan had tormented him in such a way, though it would be the first time he’d withheld food and water. Of course, Gavin was getting older. As he aged, the challenges posed to him became more difficult.
He reached for that power deep within him. He could feel that core energy simmering beneath the surface. Gavin drew upon it, and the power exploded outward.
The ropes resisted him, but then they snapped apart.
Gavin sagged back in the chair. He’d broken free of only the ropes around his arms, and he picked at the ones around his legs—a task that proved almost more difficult than he was capable of doing in this state.
He stood, wobbling slightly.
How long have I gone without food or water?
He staggered across the room. A basin of water rested there, and he picked it up, sipping at it. He knew better than to lap too hungrily at the water, especially after having gone as long as he must have without it. Gavin set the water down and breathed out, then leaned one hand on the door. He pulled it open and found Tristan sitting on the other side.
“Good,” he said.
“That’s all?”
“What more do you think I should say to you?”
“You left me there.” He could barely get the words out. “Tormented me. You starved me.”
“Good.”
“You need to stop saying that.”
“Because you feared death?”
Gavin took a step back, staring at Tristan.
Was that why?
He didn’t think so. In his training with Tristan, he’d learned that death was a part of life. Fighting meant losing. Eventually, he would die. He had long ago come to terms with that.
The one
