"I–I am not interested in your gift." Ythnel sighed, finally finding the will to look away.
"Very well." Disappointment was heavy in Saestra's voice. A smooth scraping sound brought Ythnel's head back up to see Saestra drawing a long, thin dagger from a sheath at her belt. "I suppose I will just take what I need and send your soul to meet its fate in the afterlife." Saestra lunged at Ythnel with the dagger. Ythnel twisted to her left, dipping her right shoulder to protect her chest. The dagger plunged into her back, sinking into the shoulder blade before Saestra yanked it out.
"What are you doing?"
Saestra whirled, hissing like some feral beast, to face the source of the booming voice. Ythnel could barely lift her head to see a figure descending the stairs. The wound on her back was suspiciously numb, and the lack of sensation seemed to be spreading. It was getting harder to move; the muscles in her arms and back felt like jelly.
"I was simply introducing myself to your guest, Naeros, my dear." Saestra had regained her composure. She brought the dagger up to her lips, licked the blood from its tip, and returned it to its sheath with a casual smile. Naeros raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing.
"If the introductions are finished, I suggest you leave," he said finally. "She is my prisoner. I do not need you interfering."
"She is all yours." Saestra glided past Naeros to the foot of the stairs and paused. "Oh," she said, turning back to her brother, "it might interest you to know that your new plaything is a Loviatan. Have a good night." With a lilting laugh, she floated up the steps and disappeared.
"I apologize for that." A pair of dark leather boots came into view on the floor in front of Ythnel. Her head had become too heavy for her to lift any higher. The numbness had nearly spread throughout her entire body. "If anyone around here is to be inflicting pain upon you, it is me. My, my, but she did leave a nasty little mark, didn't she."
Ythnel felt a tug on her scalp, and her head suddenly jerked up.
"You will look at me when I speak to you!" The snarl on Naeros's face quickly calmed to a mocking smile. "So, you are a Loviatan? You know, I considered joining the church. I've been told I have a knack for making others suffer. Father would have nothing of the sort, of course. What do you think?" He swept his arm out to encompass the room and its various devices of torture.
"It takes more than a room full of toys to make one worthy of serving the Maiden of Pain." Ythnel's tongue felt like a lead weight. It was difficult to get the words out. "In Her eyes, you are nothing but a clumsy child playing at"
"Silence!" Something struck the side of Ythnel's faceNaeros's fist, she guessed. She hardly felt it. He let go of her hair, and her head fell once more. Naeros's boots moved away, and Ythnel could hear the echo of them crossing the stone floor then swiftly returning. Her head was jerked up again, and she found the glowing tip of a hot iron brand inches from her face.
"Let's play." Naeros's voice dripped with malevolence. He released Ythnel's head and slid around to her side. Ythnel heard the sizzle of the hot iron. The smell of burnt flesh soon followed. "I'm going to show you the meaning of pain," Naeros taunted. "You're blessed goddess could learn a thing or two from me. Don't be ashamed to cry, I won't think less of you."
Ythnel started to laugh, a soft, breathy chuckle. She couldn't feel a thing.
"What's so funny?" Naeros demanded. He snatched her by the hair and studied her face. Ythnel couldn't move her lips to speak, so she just kept laughing. "Stop that!" Naeros struck her in the face. Her head lolled to the side, free of Naeros's grasp. She could taste blood. She laughed again. Naeros stalked off for a moment. His return was accompanied by a squeaking like old, rusty wagon wheels. Again, Ythnel's head was raised, allowing her to see a wooden cart next to Naeros, laden with various blades.
"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but apparently I've acquired a nickname from the fair citizens of this great city. They call me 'the Marker.' Do you know why?" He considered the blades on the cart, finally choosing a knife with a jagged, twinch-long blade. "I suppose it's because I like to leave my guests with a little something to remember me by. Now all I have to do is decide what would be an appropriate symbol of our relationship.
"I know, since you won't cry for me, how about I just make you bleed where those tears should be." Naeros pressed the knife on the flesh just under Ythnel's right eye, near the bridge of her nose. "Now don't scream too loudly, or you'll mess up my concentration." Naeros drew the blade down the side of Ythnel's nose, ending at the edge of the nostril. Ythnel felt only a slight tugging. Naeros's brow furrowed in puzzlement. His lips pinched, and he made a second cut from the outer edge of Ythnel's eye, down her cheek, all the way to her jaw.
Ythnel began to laugh again.
"Impossible." Naeros's face flushed, and he began to tremble. With a bellow, he assailed Ythnel, pummel-ing her until her vision went black.
CHAPTER SIX
Ythnel floated in a sea of endless black. There was no horizon, no edge to the blackness. It was all around her, enveloping her, insulating her. Beyond the blackness was pain. It pushed against the buffer, sought to puncture the blackness, to drain the sea away until she was left standing there naked and helpless. Ythnel wished it would go away. She was tired of pain. She was afraid of it.
Fear intensifies pain, Headmistress Yenael's voice echoed through the blackness. It creates anticipation, an expectation in the mind. Fear is a tool. Use it.
Ythnel ignored the words. Pain was beating harder against the barrier. She tried to bury herself deeper in the blackness. Her heart raced with fear.
Fear.
A handmaiden was not supposed to fear pain. Pain was the air she breathed, the lover she embraced. Pain was a thing to control, not fear. Fearing pain gave it control.
Slowly, Ythnel let the black fade away. Light appeared, grew, and brought with it pain. Ythnel opened her arms and welcomed it.
Calloused hands supported Ythnel and lifted her while other hands removed the manacles from around her wrists and ankles. Her right shoulder stung, and her face throbbed. Her left eye was swollen shut. Two lines of fire ran down her right cheek. Her feet touched the stone floor, but there was no strength in her legs. She sagged against the hands that held her and tried to focus on her surroundings. Her right eye fluttered open, and she saw two people standing before her.
"You walk a thin line, Naeros. You know Father wants to be notified immediately when one of them is captured." The woman speaking looked familiar to Ythnel. She wore a sleeveless white tunic over leather breeches. Dark, straight hair, streaked sparingly with white, hung past her shoulders and framed a lean, angular face. The front of the tunic was decorated with a thick, black embroidered circle. Her emphatic gestures drew Ythnel's attention to the corded muscles flexed along the woman's arms. "He was very upset when he learned you had one secreted away down here. Entropy demands swift judgment against those who transgress Her will."
"Father could not care less." Naeros sneered. "If I didn't know better, Kaestra, I'd say you barged in here hoping to claim some of the credit for capturing this witch by presenting her to Father yourself. Afraid that with our sister's recent successes, she may earn enough favor to replace you as high priestess?"
Kaestra's eyes widened, and her mouth moved as though she wanted to say something. If those eyes were violet instead of brown, and her curves a bit softer, Ythnel realized, Kaestra would bear a striking resemblance to Saestra. Then the impact of Naeros's words struck her. The three were siblings!