The Illyrian Warrior

Chapter Seventeen

Davina woke up amerced in darkness. Her head was heavy and her arms were tied behind her back in what felt like metal shackles. She could hear voices, three male voices and one...female. Wren. She could recognise that voice anywhere.

"Wren?" Davina croaked, her throat dry.

She heard steps come closer and then everything was too bright. A bag was taken off her head. Davina allowed her eyes to adjust to the light and reveal the setting around her. She was in her father's office. She'd only been here once before, when she was younger and he was happier. The dark oak tones of his desk and weapons that hung on the wall sent a wave of familiarity over her.

"Davina", Wren said, sympathy in her tone, "everything will be okay".

Davina begged to differ. Their father was leaning back on his desk, a picture of comfort. Her appearance had made no disturbance, she realised, they knew she was coming. Above her father, whom oozed smugness, and above the desk sat a mantle. Pinned beautifully above his desk, like a painting or grand portrait, was her wings. A bitter taste was in her mouth, he had kept them, as a prize.

"Bastard", Davina hissed towards her father.

His jaw twitched but he remained still, "it's beautiful isn't it?"

Davina could not think of what to say. She once thought her wings were beautiful, she admired them like all Illyrians admired their wings. But seeing them here in his office, the years of abuse they represented, it was disgusting. Davina spat at the floor, aiming for her father's shoes.

Her father clicked his tongue, "ever since leaving you have become disobedient, not to worry, we will change that".

"Dad", Wren pleaded, "you said we'd talk to her".

Their father turned to Wren, eyes going soft.

"And we will, Little Bird", he said patting her head.

Davina was a fool. She couldn't help but feel utterly embarrassed that she had come this far and let it all slip between her fingers. She had trained for months. She trained with some of the courts best warriors and that still wasn't enough. She was ashamed that she had even thought she could do this alone.

Her father approached her, removing a knife from its sheath as he came. His eyes never left hers and Davina refused to bulk from his gaze.

"You think you're tough now?" He asked, "did you really think you would win against me?"

Yes, Davina thought sadly, I really thought I could do it.
But Davina didn't speak any of her doubts, she would not cower in front of him. She had spent too much of her life begging for his mercy.

"Nothing to say?" He teased as he held the knife to her throat.

Davina didn't so much as blink, but out the corner of her eye she could see Wren chewing nervously on her nails.

"Bring the bucket", her father ordered.

One of the guards that stood behind Davina, turned and grabbed a bucket of sloshing water, before putting it in front of her. The smell was repulsive. Ash Wood.

She had never smelt it like this, never smelt it so strongly.

"We turned the wood into coal", her father began, "and mixed it with water so you can't heal and I will have a bigger supply".

"Dad", Wren said quietly yet sternly.

"Trust me, honey, this is the only way Davina will talk. Right Davina?"

Davina took a deep breath. It was going to be a long three days until she was found. She would endure it.

"Of course, father", she said spitting the last word.