The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch. 12: The Unexpected

I thought the stench in the corridor leading to the cells had been awful, but the odor in the bowels of the palace prison was enough to make me wish for blissful oblivion. It was all the worst parts of being alive—the sweat and blood and feces—mingling with death and decay. My neighbor to the left had not moved once in the hours since I'd woken on the icy stone floor, leading me to believe they were deceased and possibly the source of the most rancid smell.

To my right was nothing but a damp wall covered in various insects, all living like kings off flesh and rot. They did not even wait for us to stop moving before climbing up limbs and skittering into the seams of our clothes, but I would welcome a dozen more onto my body if it meant avoiding the bright, beaded eyes glinting in the shadows.

Putting my palms flat on the uneven surface, I pushed myself into a sitting position and turned my head toward the only source of light—a lone sconce attached to the wall across the corridor. The torch's flame dwindled, but it was enough to illuminate the cell in front of mine.

I could tell it was Astreia by her braids and the soft shimmer of her skin. Everything else about her was unrecognizable. Swelling around her eyes made it impossible to tell if she was conscious. They'd bound her arms above her head, and dark, wet streaks ran down to her elbows. Sensing my stare, she shifted, and flakes of dried blood fell from her body like hellish snow.

"As–"

I bit off her name and clawed at my throat as my vocal cords seized up. The pain paralyzed me. Not just to my voice, but to my entire body. Nearly passing out, I struggled to ensure the panting breaths I took were soundless, terrified a vibration would trigger the punishment.

"It's the collar," Astreia croaked, the metal chains binding her to the wall clanking as she moved.

Fingers shaking, I touched the silver band at my throat. I'd forgotten about it. It was so light and innocuous against my skin. Misery in the guise of beauty.

"Are you all right?"

Astreia's simple question sliced through me, and I looked at her with shock. She watched me, and in the darkness, I could see the glittering of her irises between the puffy slits of her eyelids. Scooting closer to the bars, I nodded.

"Good. I am so sorry, Morana." She stopped when my mouth fell open, an exclamation of disbelief almost making it past my lips. "If you'd only told me what you were, I would never have asked you to take part."

I clutched at the collar, digging my nails under it and earning another shot of pain for my efforts. Stupid, cursed thing. It was pointless. I didn't know how to use my voice to harm.

Or... I looked down at my hands. They looked the same as always, though significantly dirtier. Somehow, I'd killed that Warden when I screamed. It was a single, raw, unformed note, and it tore his soul from his body.

Tears pooled in my eyes, stuck to my lashes, and one by one released, dropping to the filthy floor without sound. I was a murderer—an abomination—and my dearest friend in all the world was apologizing to me.

"Tievel is a fool," Astreia continued as I cried. I didn't know if she truly wanted to console me or fill the silence. Either way, I was grateful for the soothing sound of her voice. It helped push back the misery and despair threatening to overtake me.

I shook my head, wishing I could offer a rebuttal. What person wouldn't have been hurt to discover someone they trusted was the creature they hated most in the world. It was the highest form of betrayal.

"He is," my friend continued. She licked her cracked bottom lip, breaking the scab, sending a fresh rivulet of blood down her chin. "If he ever truly cared for you, he would have helped you, but no matter what he thinks, he is his father's tool."