Matthias's grip grew painfully tight as he escorted Sebastian from Queen Davina's chamber and back through the maze-like structure of the mountain fortress. Sebastian twisted his wrist to promote adequate blood flow, but it did little to abate the numb tingles shooting up his fingers.
The captain sure had a hand of steel.
While it was somewhat of a relief to be free from the queen's presence, the surly captain provided no better company. From the moment Sebastian had awoken in Astrid's bed, his very existence had only grown more frustratingly unexplainable: the mystery of the Scribal language; Astrid's hovering water orb; that brown, earthy thread; the Saviour's Prophecy.
His blood.
It was all too much.
Even so, Sebastian recognized there was a foolish part within him, the same bit of him that had caused Norham to cuff him about the ears due to his ceaseless curiosity, that thrived off the challenge. And it grew more and more intrigued despite Sebastian's wiser instincts. For example, what kind of education did the queen plan on providing for him? She had made mention of forces—elements, perhaps?—of all the absurd things! Could such a knowledge be called an education when it was not real?
And yet...
His brain spasmed.
For some bizarre reason, Rainier's royal court held an interest in him.
A court that claimed that his knowledge of Rainier's history was not accurate.
Or so Astrid had claimed.
Which, if that was truly the case, then what was the truth?
Sebastian glanced at the stoic captain beside him. "I'm not leaving this fortress, am I?"
"It would be foolish of you to attempt such a thing."
"Because I'd get caught?"
"Because you would die."
Oh. Sebastian grimaced as Matthias tugged him around yet another corner carved into the mountain. "Is Astrid a prisoner here as well?"
Matthias yanked him to a halt so severely that Sebastian's neck cricked. A hot rush of pain stole up his spine.
"You are a guest of the queen. Astrid is one of her top lieutenants. Remember your place, boy."
Sebastian thought it best to remain silent after that.
The fortress castle turned out to be much grander than Sebastian could have ever guessed; he had fully recited the entire timeline of Rainier, stretching from the kingdom's creation centuries ago to the Great Scribal Purge before Matthias stopped before a single door. They now stood at the end of a small ante-chamber with an oak door on each of its three walls. The doors were held shut by a heavy-looking iron latch. A guard stood on either side of each one.
What were they guarding?
Oh, wait. Sebastian blinked at them. "This is all a little irrational, don't you think? I'm nothing valuable."
Matthias just led him forwards.
One of the guards, a tall and lanky fellow, stepped aside, throwing the captain an enthusiastic salute. "Captain Matthias, sir!" he greeted from beneath his helmet. "We came to report as soon as we got word."
A wry expression crossed the captain's face. "Hold steady, Melvin." He gestured to Sebastian. "This is a guest of the crown. See to it he has all he needs. I'm placing him under your charge."
The guard named Melvin nodded and puffed out his chest. "Of course, Captain Soiree. You can count on me!"
Sebastian wasn't sure what he had expected in regards to where he would be held in the fortress. If asked, he would have guessed a mattress made of stone and a hole in the floor as a latrine. He glanced around the room Matthias had just dragged him into, a little bemused.
Well, at least his stone prison seemed to be a very richly furnished one. A fire was already lit, popping away merrily inside a massive stone hearth. There was a small sitting area that surrounded the fireplace, an ideal location as the room was otherwise uncomfortably chilly. A simple, wooden desk took up one of the corners. It seemed to be carved from an entire trunk of an ancient tree. Sebastian's gaze strayed to the bookshelf, but he frowned when he realized the shelves were all bare.
"You should be comfortable here as long as you do what you're told. If you need anything, my sentinels are stationed outside—"
Sebastian heard the threat hidden beneath Matthias's words: the guards would stop him should he choose to leave. But why?
"—the washroom is through that doorway." Matthias pointed to a narrow arch cut into the natural rock and then nodded towards another opened door behind them. "Those are your sleeping chambers. Food will be delivered unless your presence is requested by the queen in the dining hall."
Before Sebastian could even nod, Matthias had turned on his heel and stalked from the rooms. The guard named Melvin shut the door behind him with another hearty salute. For a second, Sebastian stood in the center of the ante-chamber, his breaths quick, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. He strode to one of the windows and looked out. Sure enough, he had been placed in rooms high up in the fortress, a sudden drop off the cliff providing the only way down. Even the window refused to open. A prison cell, indeed.
Perhaps if Abel were with him, she could have devised some sort of escape route. Most likely one that would make him fear for his life. Unfortunately, all he had was knowledge from books, none of which described how to rappel down a three kilometer sheer rock face.
How useless, now.
And what would Abel think when he failed to return from the library?
By the Scribes, she would most likely tear the fortress walls down with her bare hands.
Panic threatened to consume him again.
He loosened a sharp breath and dragged one of the chairs closer to the flickering fire. His cloak helped warm his cold limbs as the fire popped and crackled. The sliced palm of his hand itched as the skin tried to heal, and Sebastian found himself glaring at it, urging it along. At least it provided a solid distraction. His skin tingled and warmed against the flames of the fire, his intestines churning restlessly. For the rest of the night, he sat before the hearth and watched his palm.
What did the queen want with his blood?
By the time Sebastian had finally drifted asleep, there wasn't even so much as the faintest scar left behind on his skin.
O O O
Sebastian.
The sound of his name seeped into his dreams.
Carissénas.
Sebastian swatted at the noise and rolled over.
Come. Find me.
Imogene appeared behind his eyelids. Her kind, wrinkled face wavered into focus, her graying hair tied into a knot at the base of her spine. "Do not listen to it, Carissénas," she said to him. "It is of evil nature."
Sebastian, the voice slid between them again like a spear parting water, Hear me. Follow.
It burned. The voice burned. Sebastian threw his hands over his ears and turned back to his mother. She held a peculiar quill out towards him. It balanced like a needle of a compass across her thumb. He recognized it.
"The Black Quill?" An invisible hand tugged at something behind his navel. "But what is it? Where am I?"
Imogene smiled softly. "You are where your soul led you, son. Trust in it."
Sebastian swallowed against the emotion that stuck to his throat and reached out to take the quill from her. His fingertips had just brushed the tip of it when the unknown voice attacked like the hiss from a viper.
Voíxili!
Sebastian jolted awake. He tumbled from the bed and fell to the floor, tangled in the expensive linen sheets that held his legs hostage. Heart thumping wildly, he finally broke free and sat, panting, with his back against the cold stone of the wall. His fingers clenched around nothing but air, that quill of his mother's left only to his imagination. He gripped the back of his sweaty neck and braced his head between his knees. The fortress around him felt so silent that the absence of noise pressed on him. It felt heavy, the air thick as he breathed in deeply through his nose. His lungs drowned in it.
"Inhale. Trachea. Trachea to bronchial tubes," he muttered the facts to himself. Slowly, he calmed as the recited knowledge carried the oxygen into his bloodstream. He exhaled slowly and raised his head.
Sebastian. Come.
His reflexes twisted so violently at the noise that he jerked to his feet, stumbling against one of the posts of his bed. He gripped the wooden beam, pressing his forehead into it. "This isn't real," he told himself. "It isn't happening."
Voíxili!
The word pulled at him. It forced his eyes to open and his gaze to settle on the shut door of his room. Sebastian stared in disbelief. A narrow beam of light hovered above the floor and led beneath the crack of the door. It was like the shadowy, white light of a moon's path. Tiny dust particles floated like faeries among it.
Sebastian blinked.
Still, it was there.
He stuck out a foot and placed it into the beam's path. It felt warm. "By the Scribes..."
The curious light stuck to his bare toes and enticed him forwards. His hand brushed the brass knob of the door and then hesitated. In his dream, his mother had told him not to follow the voice. Sebastian glanced back down at the shimmering, warm light beam that hovered near his ankles. Surely this couldn't be something bred out of evil intent. Besides, it had whispered the same Scribal word that Astrid had demanded him to translate.
Calmed by the promise of answers, Sebastian swung open the door and stepped out into the corridor beyond.
- - -
Ohhh, things are about to get really interesting in Rainier...
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