Chapter Ten: Under | Part 7
“Twice-damn it, Venmagalion!” Azirenne roared. “Put him back under! What is this about bloodfire and the king?”
“The attack tonight was a simple sword,” Professor C said. “And King Grimmary left unscathed. A member of his guard took the hit.”
Thirtyx’s head pounded with the effort of escaping the trance. He still felt a bit groggy, but part of him wished he felt much groggier.
Then, he wouldn’t have to come to terms with what he’d revealed.
Azirenne grabbed Thirtyx by the collar and shook him, making his throbbing head feel like it might explode. “Was Grimmary attacked by bloodfire, and if so, when?”
“I won’t tell you,” Thirtyx moaned.
That earned him another lash from her tail, just when the ache from the first one was starting to wear off. “Put him back under!” she roared again.
“Headmistress, if I may, I’m not sure it will do much good.” Dexerro had pocketed his signet ring. “He also spoke nonsense about flowers with faces. I think he was employing the Veluvian Method, something the prince and princess must have taught him for this exact sort of encounter.”
“Even so, I think the bit about bloodfire was too specific to be a ruse, especially in response to our question about why the twins left a few weeks ago,” Professor C said. “He mentioned Grimmary’s leg. The king canceled all of his public appearances the week his children were home, and he’s had a slight limp ever since. Perhaps there was another attack before tonight?”
Thirtyx fought to keep his expression neutral, but the guilt ached worse than the Devil venom. Please, he pleaded to the Twins. Don’t let them believe it. I can’t do that to Benn and Rhea.
He was so busy pleading that he didn’t notice the purple sparks in Professor Bavarren’s eyes until he felt the prickle of an unwanted intrusion into his mind.
“No!” he cried out. He fought to throw his attention onto anything else, but the damage was done, judging by Bavarren’s satisfied smirk. He had to distract himself before he thought about how Rhea and Benn had escaped campus—
NO. Anything but that. He stared intently into Bavarren’s eyes, calling forth every ounce of hatred he had for the man—hatred that had been building since that day in the classroom, when a much younger Thirtyx had silently debated whether to let the professor into his head. On one hand, most orphans would give anything for a glimpse of their parents, and Thirtyx was certainly no exception. But on the other, did he trust Professor Bavarren with the inner workings of his mind?
Bavarren had taken young Thirtyx’s silence as consent and forced his way in.
Fiery anger chased the Devil venom through Thirtyx’s veins as he forced Bavarren to watch, in as much detail as he could summon, the memories the man had unlocked that day—memories that remained seared in Thirtyx’s consciousness even now. A dark-haired Verith woman leaving him on the doorstep of a blonde Verith man. The man cursing and throwing things around his house. Thirtyx shivering as the man dragged him into the chilly night without proper clothing, tossing him roughly over his shoulder for the long walk to the county infirmary.
Rhea had noticed the tears streaming down Thirtyx’s face and shakily cast her first successful attempt to speak inside someone’s head. LEAVE HIM ALONE! she’d screamed into Thirtyx’s mind.
Thirtyx clung to what her help had meant to him that day and channeled it into his current thoughts. I WON’T BETRAY THEM! he shouted at Bavarren.
The intrusion disappeared. Was it a trick of the light, or had Bavarren’s green-scaled face paled? He looked to the headmistress before Thirtyx could conclude his investigation into whether the man still possessed a single shred of empathy. “He confirmed the prior attack on Grimmary,” Bavarren said evenly. “And he does know how the royal twins left campus, but he locked down the details.”
Much as Thirtyx wanted to maintain defiant eye contact, the guilt dipped his chin to his chest. They’d gotten so much from one trance. How many more would they try? How much longer did he have to last? He looked to the clock. Nearly five bars had passed while he was under, the passage of time distorted by the spell. Class started in 15 bars or so.
Unless they kept the school on lockdown so they could keep torturing him.
Calley Jones 