I’d always felt so deliciously tiny when I’d read those passages. Now, those same feelings are crashing down on me again – but amplified to a deafening intensity; pushing me smaller and smaller.
For a second, there’s silence – and then Brennan composes himself, and sneers.
The sneer contorts his beautiful face, and I both hate it and can’t stop staring.
“What I tell myself?” He challenges me. “You nearly got killed last night. You cut your leg open in the first ten seconds of your escape. Tell me, Natali, what was your plan? Where were you going to run to?”
I force myself to step forward, just as Brennan did when he first addressed me.
The floor is bare concrete. There’s nothing blocking my path except Brennan’s shadow on the floor.
However, it’s like walking through a bog as I cross it.
My mouth is dry as I croak: “My plan was to walk two hours north and get to freedom.” I straighten my spine, and thrust my chest forward. “You would have done the same in my circumstances.”
All this time, Lazar had been standing there like a hawk – motionless, and staring.
Suddenly, he shifts – cracking his knuckles. The sound is as loud as gunshots in this dark and gloomy basement.
“Even if you hadn’t nearly vivisected yourself climbing through that window, you wouldn’t have got far. I cleared out a camp of cutthroats ten minutes north of here. That’s where the raiding party that attacked us last night originated from.”
So, that’s where Lazar was last night, while Brennan was guarding me, and Otho was managing supplies.
“They had a jail under their camp – in a basement just like this.” Lazar’s eyes narrow. “I found three prisoners in there – prisoners just like you.” He snorts bitterly. “All dead when I found them.”
Prisoners? Other unfortunate strays like me?
Lazar doesn’t hear my unspoken question, but he answers it anyway.
“If you’d had limped another ten minutes north, you’d be in that jail cell right now, not here.”
Fuck.
He’s right, of course. I’d even briefly considered the potential dangers that lurked beyond this basement camp of theirs – but I’d chosen to face the unknown dangers rather than remain the prisoner of three very amateurish kidnappers.
Wait - could he be lying?
That story about the cutthroats might be exactly what Lazar might say to keep me from attempting another escape. It reminds me of something my instructor had told me during the classes I’d taken on what to do if I was ever kidnapped – the classes I’d never appreciated until now.
“The only prison you can’t escape from is in your own mind,” the instructor had told me, tapping the side of her head. The lesson had been: If you talk yourself out of trying to escape, you’ve already failed the attempt.
I wish I knew the truth – but out of the three of them, it’s Lazar I can’t get a read on. His face is so still and blank – and as I stare at him, I realize how off-hand Lazar had sounded when he’d told me he’d “cleared a camp” of scavengers.
A camp? How many quantifies as a ‘camp’? Five? Ten? More?
And Lazar killed all of them, one by one, on his own.
I shudder. Now, as I look at Lazar, I suddenly believe all those rumors about the cold-bloodedness of Aurelians. Lazar seems to have more in common with the Sentinels that guard my home than any human I know.
Otho stares at me. It’s as if he can detect my skepticism.
The mohawked warrior grunts: “Lazar tells the truth.”
Unlike Lazar, I can clearly see in Otho’s face that he speaks the truth.
I wrap my arms around myself and take a deep, shuddering breath.
“Well, then?” I demand. “What did you expect me to do? You three kidnapped me! From my home!”
The three Aurelians say nothing. They just stand there and stare at me, as if absorbing my words and processing them before speaking.
I don’t give them that chance.
“Don’t lie to me,” I hiss. “Don’t pretend this is all about business. You’re lying if you claim you kidnapped me because of my father’s Orb-deposits.” I sniff haughtily. “In fact, I even think you’re lying about ‘a storm coming!’ I think that’s just an excuse – an excuse to do the inexcusable.”
The three warriors stiffen. I continue my tirade.
“Don’t pretend that the only reason you’re going to punish me is to ‘keep me safe.’ If you wanted to convince me not to try and escape again, all you had to do was tell me what Lazar just did – I’d have been too scared to try.”
The only prison you can’t escape from is in your own mind
I raise myself to my full height and growl:
“Tell the truth, Brennan. You’ve gone Rogue, haven’t you?”
Impassive, implacable, unemotional – my ass.
The three Aurelians barely moved, but even the subtle stiffening of their posture revealed how hard my words hit them. It was like I’d physically slapped the three of them.
“You used to serve the Aurelian Empire,” I continue, “but now you’ve snapped. Now, you’re just like all those other Rogue Aurelian bastards who steal women for their harems.”
I can see my words shocked them, but the only one who reveals a flash of hurt is Otho. That makes sense – he might be the most feral and beast-like of the three, but he’s also the most authentic; and to those who value authenticity, the only thing that really hurts is the truth.
I lower myself to the balls of my feet. I’m breathless by the end of my rant.
For a moment, there’s silence – to the point that I even wonder if I’ve won this debate…
…but then Brennan steps menacingly forwarding, growling:
“Don’t pretend to know the dealings of the universe, little one. You’ve had not a tenth of my
