Chapter 22 ~ Take Me to the King

Chains.  He was in chains.  Russ felt them before he knew anything else, before his throbbing head or cramped limbs, before the cold stones or the even colder air, before smelling the haziness of smoke or seeing the flickering bars of torchlight on the floor.  His ankles and wrists were locked in irons, connected to chains bolted to the floor.  He opened his eyes and lifted his head; his neck felt like it was chained to an anvil, and he dropped it back down.  He saw nothing but blackness above him, but there were bars of light on the floor next to him, filtering through iron bars on the door in the wall across from him.  He was lying on the floor, flat on his back.

Locked me in, he thought, blinking rapidly.  But the lock on the door was nothing, the door with its little ironclad window was nothing, the chains were everything.  Oh god, he lifted his hands, hearing the links click together as the chains lifted with them.  His hands felt impossibly heavy.  I’ll never get out of these, he crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the cold metal weight down on his lungs.  Don’t panic.

He tried to breathe evenly, but couldn’t.  The longer he was awake, the heavier the clamps felt, the less able to move he felt, the faster and shallower he felt himself breathing.  He turned over on his right side, feeling the chains on his left side tense as they met their limit.  Even as he realized that he was panicking, he yanked at the chains violently, twisting around and feeling his throat constrict as the iron bit into his skin.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t see anything.  He could only feel the chains, hear the chains, oh God they wouldn’t go away . . . .

“You, stop that racket;” a human voice broke in on his frenzy.  He froze.  A shadow blocked out the bars of light.

Russ swallowed.  “Where am I?”

“Be quiet,” snapped the man.

“But I—”

“Go to sleep.”  He hit the door with a thump.  “You’ll be seeing the King in the morning, when he’s awake, and the whole bloody palace is awake.  Until then, the whole bloody place is asleep and you’re going to sleep if I have to—” he thumped the door again “—to make you!  Good night.”  The slats of light reappeared.

“Wait,” Russ called, trying to sit up.  “I can’t . . . these chains.”

“You will sleep in the chains or I will wrap the chains around your neck.”

Russ blinked at the flow of acerbic words, and fell silent.  But the chains were still in the forefront of his mind.  The only time he’d ever felt such helpless fear was when the dogs had been circling, ready to attack.  He’d never thought of himself as claustrophobic before, but there was no other way that he could think of the feeling.  He didn’t even want to think of it; he just wanted them to be off.

Think about something else.  He lay back down and tried to relax, just accept that if he moved this way or that way, the chains would rattle and tighten and pull on him.  He lay with his palms up, trying not to clench his hands into fists, and stared at the ceiling.  The floor was so cold it was starting to make him shiver.  He figured he must be in a cell . . . in a dungeon, probably . . . somewhere in Leeton’s palace.  Where were Alisiya and Currun?  Did they get away, while he was running through the garden like an idiot?  Don’t think about the chains.  Can’t be thinking about the chains.  Was that really the idea behind sending him out?  Distract the guards so they could get away?  It didn’t make sense.  After what Alisiya had said to him, she couldn’t really have meant to just chuck him aside like . . . like meat for the wolves.

At least, he thought, if they had gotten away because of his capture, Liseli would be woken up soon.  That was the whole damn reason for coming to this place, anyway, so Liseli would wake up.  So Alisiya would wake her up.  So she said.  He swallowed, shoving the creeping doubt away from his mind.

The stones felt colder.  He wished they’d at least given him a blanket or a mat.  Or straw.  Something.  That was so stupid.  To walk out there like that, and stand around waiting for the guards to see you.  Idiot.  But that’s what Alisiya had told him to do, and at the time he couldn’t think to refuse.  Why would Alisiya volunteer to help Liseli if she were going to do this to him?  He thought she had wanted to help them.

What would Liseli think when she woke up and he was gone, captured, probably executed?  Executed.  They would find the dead guard, and think he’d done it, wouldn’t they . . . .  What would Liseli think, when she knew he’d sacrificed himself, like this, for her?  I wonder if she’ll miss me.  He blinked rapidly for a moment, turned his head to wipe his eyes on his arm.  The chain slithered across the floor with a cold chink chink chink.  He took a deep breath.  Stop that.

Sleep.  He wanted to sleep.  He was just too tired to think about this anymore.  Bone-weary, mind-numbingly, straight-through-to-the-soul tired.  Of everything.

He’d see Leeton in the morning, and that’d probably be the last thing he’d ever see, before heaven or hell or whatever was waiting for him.  He didn’t want to sleep the rest his life away.  But he didn’t want to spend his last hours thinking about his last hours, either; it was like the dogs all over again, only they would be circling for hours and hours until they struck.  He didn’t want to die like this.  He didn’t want to die at all, but especially not like this.

He blinked again, but didn’t bother wiping his face on his sleeve this time.  He didn’t want to hear the chains snicking across the floor.  Tears turned cold on his face as they ran down into his collar.  He was ashamed to be looking death in the face and sniveling like a coward, a coward and a baby and a helpless idiot chained to the floor.  But it was all so wrong, dying like this; he couldn’t accept it.  Take it like a man, a cruel voice in his head laughed, but he didn’t feel like a man.  It was impossible to even feel very human in those chains.

Please.  He turned his gaze away from the empty black hole that was the ceiling somewhere, and stared at the slatted light.  Four perfect bars of light on the floor, on the wall.  Don’t do this to me.  Not now.  I want to live.  I’ve never wanted to live like I want to live now . . . please I really, really want to live.  Please don’t kill me now . . . .