The Kindly One

XX. Desperate Measures

She wasn't ready to see Kája yet. Iona wasn't certain how she would be able to explain what had happened. She'd slept in Nicol's study, curled up on the couch, so she didn't have to go back and tell Kája that she'd unwittingly condemned herself to slavery. She hated the fact that Nicol hadn't told her, but she understood: Zdenek controlled Nicol in the exact same way.

He can inflict a pain thou canst not imagine, Nicol had warned her. If thou wouldst have thine freedom, then the only way is to move in secret ways. I can help thee.

The guards that stood near Benedikt's cell raised their weapons when she approached. She didn't have the rings that senior mages wore, but she did have the one that signified her new position on her right thumb, which they had to have recognized. "No visitors are permitted, Mágissa," the older one said with a frown, "by order of the High Král."

"He is not here. I am," Iona said flatly. She would have been more sympathetic or cajoling, but she could still feel the dull ache throughout her whole body and the jagged, sharp pain in the center of her chest as her body tried to cope with the damage and accept her new, magical heart. Instead of being understanding, she found their own heart-threads and gave a sharp tug. Not enough to actually harm them, but enough to cause a stutter and remind them that she could.

The pair looked uneasy, but quickly reached a decision. "We can allow you five minutes, Mágissa," the older one said before bowing his head. The two stepped away, rounding the corner.

When she saw Benedikt hanging on the wall, her eyes welled up with tears. She couldn't reach him, but that was no obstacle. She whispered words of rust and decay under her breath, weaving her fingers in arcane patterns. The bolts holding the manacles to the wall rusted through, allowing him to fall. It wasn't a gentle impact with the floor, but he could finally let his no doubt stiff shoulders slacken. She saw him move towards the light, able to make out his features in the darkness much more quickly than a full-blooded human would have been able to.

Benedikt did not look nearly as good as she'd assumed he would be—apparently high justice did not mean in Leus what it meant in Yssa. Of course, Benedikt had no family who would raise a fuss. His relatives had too much to lose and their current strategy was to distance themselves. Benedikt was beaten and bloodied, lips blistered and burned from something hot. He limped towards the bars, his expression something between frightened, angry, worried, and grateful. He shook his head hard as he reached the bars, covering her hands with his own where she was clutching at the iron.

She had expected him to tease her about her new title or make light of his current position. It wasn't like him to just look at her mutely. "We're going to get you out of this," she said thickly instead. "I'm so, so sorry, Bene. I know this was for me. I—"

He shook his head again and reached out, pressing a grimy finger to her lips to silence her. She didn't recoil away from the potential dirt. Instead, she quieted and rested her forehead against the bars. The metal barring his exit was too close together for him to reach more than a hand through, so he couldn't hug her or offer much in the way of comfort. He didn't say anything, but he tipped his head against the bars and studied her heartbroken expression.

No, I fancy myself more of an older, wiser brother. He heard himself say the words in his memory, but he didn't feel particularly wise at the moment. He'd been duped, and it was his own fault for letting his concern overwhelm his caution. He slipped his hand through the bars near her face, touching her cheek when he saw tears start to fall, and made a soothing sound since he could no longer speak.

"Let me heal you," she said softly. She didn't know about his tongue, but she could see the blistering to his lips and face as well as the bruising across his body. She assumed his face was why he wasn't speaking.