Page 5 of Interion

Siger shoved Armiris to the ground, and Ryuki started lowering his pants. Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut. I refused to believe what was happening, but the girl's muffled sobs were too real to ignore. I opened my eyes, frantic. Through the panic, an idea struck me. It was a suicidal plan, but I had no time—not now, not ever. My future was guttering like a candle flame, and little by little, I felt myself withering, fading with each freezing nightfall. For the last eight months, I'd only survived, dragging myself through the forests like the walking dead. There was no time left for me—my lungs were condemned—but Armiris was healthy, and her chances were better than mine. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I sucked in all the air I could and…

I screamed.

I screamed with all the strength of my damaged lungs. Both soldiers came running. I screamed again, and they fell on me. A punch to the stomach, and I doubled over, gasping for air. Blood began staining the water between coughing fits and the kicks raining down as I collapsed at the lake's edge. The world became a blur of sounds and colors, and in the distance, I heard soldiers descending the slope. Water flooded my lungs, and blood seeped between the stones, staining the riverbed. I was lifted and hurled onto the dry rocks; my bones made horrible sounds, and more soldiers arrived. The coughing had no beginning or end, and the air couldn't seem to find its way in.

When darkness filled my eyes, I prayed to die. But this was war, and there were no gods in the forest.

Δ

I was in another cold basement, this one beneath the little old house I'd seen earlier. The floor was packed earth, and steel chains hung from above. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the slatted ceiling, I could make out wooden crates scattered around the room. They'd left me unconscious in the corner against the wall, and from what I gathered, the two soldiers had been punished for the attempted rape. Healers weren't easy to find in Drutes or anywhere else on Jupiter. We were in short supply.

I was hurt so badly I didn't dare move. I'd taken beatings before, but this was the worst. My right eye wouldn't open, my lips were a mess of swelling and cuts, and at least three ribs were broken. I could feel the tip of one poking my lung with every breath. It kept me from filling my chest with air—the pain would have been excruciating. If I weren't a fae healer, I'd be dead. But my body was too stubborn to die and too sick to heal itself.

I ran my tongue over my front teeth and felt them so loose they were ready to fall out. I started laughing. I think there's a limit to sanity, and I was crossing it. When those teeth fell out, I'd lose my mind completely.

The golden light that had filtered through the cracks in the basement ceiling earlier had faded, marking nightfall. A while ago, there'd been movement, and from the sounds of it, some soldiers had left on patrol. The night was quiet, and despite what had happened that afternoon, I felt good about helping the girl. I don't think I could have slept peacefully if I hadn't done something. My mother always said nothing is more frightening than regret. Skin heals, and blood washes out of clothes after a few tries. But regret? There isn't enough water or soap in the world to clean a stain like that.

I closed my eyes. I was exhausted and needed sleep so my body could speed up healing the worst injuries. I couldn't decide how to feel about my condition—the situation had only gotten worse over my last year as a slave. Every night I fell asleep wondering if I'd wake up the next morning, and no matter how bad the damage, my body endured and my eyes opened at dawn. At some point, I'd started wondering whether that was a blessing or a curse, because death wouldn't be worse than this kind of life.

I waited for sleep to creep in, but then I heard slow, steady footsteps. I sat up, hugging my knees. It was impossible not to feel alarmed, and I clung to the hope that maybe they were bringing food. I was starving.

The cellar door opened and a soldier came down. I stared at the floor.

“Hello, little rat,” the man said.

An icy wave of terror shot down my spine when I recognized Ryuki. I ducked my head lower and buried my face in my hands, helpless.

“No, no, don't hide, little rat. Why so shy now? I thought you'd want to play, after being so feisty this afternoon.”

Through the gaps between my fingers, I watched the man settle onto a wooden crate near the entrance.

“Do you know what happened after your sweet little game?” he asked, twirling a pocketknife between his fingers. “They castrated me. So I thought I'd pay you a visit, since the soldiers are busy with the battle.”

I lifted my head and stared at him.

“You can't damage healing slaves.”

“Today I can. Interion's army is in the area, and the shadow general has come to exterminate us. We're already dead.” He let out a bitter laugh and shrugged. “Might as well enjoy the time we have left.”

His face twisted into a cynical smile as the knife danced between his fingers. If what he said was true, I'd be dead by the end of the night, whether by his hands or the enemy squadron's. Interion annihilated descendant slaves too. They saw us as a problem to be solved—or rather, exterminated. There would be no escape, so I let myself stare at the man and unleash all the hatred I'd repressed during those damned two years.

Courage can mean many things. But for a slave, it was the prelude to death.

“There's that damned defiant look. I always knew it was hiding in there somewhere. Your mother had the same defiance in her eyes, and it was delicious watching her break.”

I kept staring at the soldier, knowing he was lying. He might have known my mother, and maybe that's where his taste for humiliating me came from, but he wasn't the one who killed her. I was there. I saw everything.

Ryuki traced the pocketknife's blade with his long fingers. I swallowed hard.

“The Interionian army must have reached our men by now. We'd better start the fun, little rat.”

He stood up, and I tried to rise, staggering against the wall. I needed to flee, find some way out of this place. But while I was thinking, the chains attached to the ceiling began moving around me. Desperate, I remembered the soldier was a metal manipulator, but it was too late. As I tried to run, they coiled around my wrists.

My scream tore through the silence as I was lifted off the ground. The chains around my arms tightened until they cut into my skin. I kicked and thrashed, trying to break free, but the metal only dug in deeper.

“So skinny I don't even have to try. Look how easy this is.”

He kept both hands raised, as if he were actually holding me. Then, like he was crushing a mosquito, he clenched his fists. The sound of my wrists breaking was as shocking as the pain. I screamed through my tears, nothing but shrill shrieks escaping my throat. Oceans of pain exploded in my chest, and white spots began dancing in my vision. I thanked the gods I was about to pass out. I felt my body going limp and could only believe it was divine relief.