Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 35 - Aster

I hear footsteps and cringe. The illusionist's interrogation was yesterday, I think, or the day before. It doesn't surprise me that they're back, but a cold dread still creeps up in me. I'm not sure I can handle another questioning like that.

The footsteps stop. A shaft of light pierces the shadows, and I squint against the foreign brightness. When I slowly will myself to look, curious chocolate eyes peek through the grate.

This must be the illusionist.

She doesn't look at me, though. Instead, it seems as if she doesn't even know I'm here. The nerves that jumped into my throat shift into confusion. She glances about the room, and her Kadranian-pale skin seems to glow in the relative darkness.

Who is this?

I shift weakly. Her eyes fix on me, and she startles. Taking a chance, I rasp in Avadelian, "Help me."

Her eyes soak in my pathetic state, and horror slowly seeps through her features. She breathes something in a foreign language, compassion and shock mingling in her words.

My rising hope for escape drops like the blade of a guillotine. The first real person I've seen in weeks and she doesn't even speak Avadelian. My mind whirls, searching for some way to get her to understand me.

But this is Draó, I remember, and hope rises again. Just because her first language is a foreign one doesn't mean that she can't speak the common tongue too. "Can you understand me?"

Clarity slowly returns to her gaze. "Yes. Did—" She presses her lips together as if she can't wrap her mind around what she's seeing. "Did Lady Veradeaux do this to you?"

Bewilderment clouds my mind until comprehension clears it like sunlight dispelling mist. A wanted criminal, Amarris must have opted to go by her last name here, rather than the one she was known by in the court. If I remember correctly, the great-grandmother she claimed as her line to nobility was a Veradeaux.

Fear grips my heart, cold realization washing through me. Amarris isn't ever going to let me go. She won't want Morineaux to expect an attack, and she knows I'll tell Agraund everything that happened as soon as I get back. No matter if I answer her questions or not, I'm—

I'm dead.

Words trembling in the air, I whisper, "She's going to kill me."

Her lips press together, the shock in her eyes hardening into determination. "No, she is not," she promises. "I will get you out. Okay?" The strange girl's accented words encourage hope, and her intent gaze promises sincerity. I don't know who this foreigner is, and I'm desperate that she not be an illusion.

The doorknob rattles. She hisses. "It is locked." She glances back and forth down the corridor. "I can not stay here for long. I will come back. With keys. Here." Her face disappears from view. Then her hand reaches through the grate, and she tosses me two pastries that land on the floor.

They look like the choicest food from the Queen's table.

"I have to go now. I will be back soon." She grips the open grate, eyes locking with mine. "Everything will be okay." She disappears.

Weak but spurred on by hunger and hope, I lean and eat the pastries. If someone told me a month ago I would be reduced to eating off the floor like a dog every time I'm given food, I would have laughed at them. At this point, it doesn't matter. Food is food, and I'll take what I can get.

I don't know how long passes, but the grate slides open again. Momentarily, I brighten, but a shudder runs through me, and the hole closes without having revealed anything past it. I swallow.

The illusionist is back.