Fortress of Secrets, Trials, and Enemy Rivals. - KOTLC

Chapter Seven

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Word Count: 1289 words
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"Bronte, please, keep your voice down! You'll attract attention," I whisper-shout, frantically glancing from him to the door.

     If he continues to scream, then there's no doubt that the new head of the tower will come looking for him. If I don't shut him up soon, then more and more people are going to rush to his aid, and then there is no way that I'll be able to hide myself from them, and they'll easily trap me in.

     I may be strong, but it would be going against the law to attack them back, especially after I've been supposedly dead for a while, and I could easily be punished for treason and impersonation.

     Taking a step backwards, Bronte continued to scream for help, his cries getting louder and louder. And ... are those tears?

     "Bronte, please! Shut up. I'm serious!" I snap, and the bark in my tone makes him shut up.

     His eyes are still wide and wet, but his mouth is sealed shut. He reaches for something on his belt, and I notice it as an imparter. "Take one step towards me and I won't hesitate to call the rest of the Council. Leave, and I'll and we'll find you. Lower the disguise, and we'll talk," he orders, and all his formality as a Councillor shows.

     "Please–" I stammer

     "Let's not forget my ability." He taps his head with one finger, the other hand still grasping onto the imparter.

     He's serious about calling them. It hurts he doesn't notice it's me.

     "Bronte. Use your brain! There's no disguise. It's me," I beg, attempting to prove myself.

     "Sophie Foster is dead." His voice cracks, but he continues anyway. "You are not her. You will remove the disguise right this moment. If not, I'll shock you out of your mind and gather the Council to take you into containment. Last chance."

     I search for any other explanation that could help him notice it's me, and I'm suddenly struck with the realisation that I want him to remember that it's me.

     So much for going to Fitz first.

      I think back on his threat. Maybe that's it! Maybe he should shock me.

     "Go on," I challenge, standing up straighter. Maybe if I act like how I did before I left, then maybe he might notice that it is me. "Inflict on me."

     He narrows his eyes, betraying his curiosity, but I can see him try to inflict anyway.

     Three seconds pass, and the line of tension in his shoulders bends and faulters. His whole demeanor relaxes.

     "How...?" he whispers, and the raw emotion in it makes my throat sting.

     "Bronte..." What do I say? Do I be honest with him? Do I tell him everything, or just the main points?

     My hesitation is taking time, time that give him more time to make a decision on calling the Council.

     "Lower the imparter."

     Surprisingly, he does, though it stays in his hand.

     "Okay... I'll settle for that." Resisting the urge to tug on my eyelashes, I say, "you might want to take a seat."

     Bronte moves over towards the chair and sits, though his eyes never leave mine.

     I don't blame him for his shock; I felt the same when I found out that Mr. Forkle was alive.