Of Trouts and Jewels | ✅

Chapter Thirteen

I have felt this feeling before. A pounding headache and a dry throat that feels like sandpaper when I swallow. I vaguely remember the same feeling the night after sitting with the other diggers surrounded by smoke, slick alcohol burning my throat.

Only this time it's worse.

Every time I breathe, hot, muggy air reflects back in my face. My hands feel numb and my lips sore. Whatever had been thrown and tied around my head is still there, making me sweat, struggling to breathe.

With a groan, I roll onto my side, trying to wriggle my hands. I manage it slightly but there's no way I can escape the tape biting into my wrists.

I listen out, suddenly aware that there's murmuring. It grows louder until someone speaks.

"Está despierto." It's a woman's voice, barely a murmur. She must have bent down because I feel rough, wrinkled hands take mine, slipping something between the tape and my fingers. The binding comes free. Sighing, I flex my fingers, only to have the woman grab them again.

"No te muevas."

Something in her voice tells me to stop the struggle so I do. There's no point in fighting these people. They showed their strength before when they tied me up and something tells me that they're not afraid to do so again.

The woman waits a few seconds before moving to the sack around my head. When that comes off, I blink into the eyes of an elderly woman, her caramel-coloured skin sagging in places. She has pursed lips and beady eyes. I notice a scar running down her left cheek. But that's not all.

Her ears are pointed.

I stare at them in confusion, blinking a few times to make sure it's real. No matter how many times I close my eyes and open them again, her elf-like ears are still there.

She ignores my staring and raises something in her hands to my face. I cry out when I see a large knife, blade pointing towards me, but the sound only comes out muffled.

She chuckles but I don't catch any menace in it. "No te preocupes."

Tense, I watch as she slips the knife blade under the rope blinding my mouth closed and, with one quick tug, she has the whole thing undone. There's a look of amusement as she dangles the rope in front of my face.

"Estas libre," she says. When I don't reply, she pulls me to my feet. I stagger, blinking, surveying my surroundings.

I'm in a cavern of some sort. Fresh, tightly packed soil lines all the sides as it does the floor underneath me, giving a soft, spongy feel. The only light comes from ahead of me. When I look up, I have to take a few steps back in surprise.

There is a huge tank up front. Water sloshes against the sides of the glass. Dim lights illuminate the interior, where something enormous is swimming.

The trout.

I'm in a huge aquarium.

The trout's scales glimmer different colours in the dim light of the tank. It swims in circles, humungous fins powering its every stroke. Its big lips make it look like it's unhappy, as though it's eaten something sour.

"Es precioso, ¿no?"

The woman is next to me, admiring the fish with a look of content on her face.

"I don't speak Spanish," I reply slowly.

She looks confused. Her head cocks to the side.

"I. Don't. Speak. Spanish." I say it even slower.

Perhaps she understood me—I will never be sure. All I can be sure of what she does next is she just grabs my hand in a vice-like grip and yanks me down a corridor filled with soil. Every once in a while there'll be a lantern hanging from the wall, casting an eerie glow about.

Finally, she pulls me into a room that branches from the corridor. It's small, housing only a small lantern on the far wall and a long wooden bench that runs along the whole of one edge. A man sits on it gingerly and perks up when he notices the woman. His eyes travel to me and how tightly the woman is clutching my wrist.

"Qué?" he asks.

"Habla inglés," the woman replies in a rushed tone. "Te lo dije. ¡Es él! Y su grupo – y su novia—"

"Ya, ya," the man replies in a dismissive tone. I look at his ears. They're pointed.

She thrusts me towards the man as though I'm his property now. "Interrogarle."

"Sí, voy."

And then the woman exits the room without another word, leaving me and the man alone.

"Igris," he says, pointing to his chest. Then, in a very thick accent, "You?"

"Julian," I reply, finally relieved that there's someone here who speaks my language. I'd looked between the two speakers before but hadn't managed to work much out.

Igris pats the seat next to him. "Sit."

I do. Tentatively. Although there's no door to the room, I still feel trapped. Igris wastes no time with hammering down the questions.

"Tell me how you stole the diamond."

I look at him in confusion.

"I didn't—"

"Tell me how you stole the diamante." His eyes turn cold all of a sudden.

I can feel a lump in my throat. "I didn't steal it."

"You did. Your group did."

I reconsider what he said. Yes, Guy's team dug up the diamond, but we didn't know it belonged to these people.

"Yes," I admit.

"Return it."

I look at him and his pointy ears. There is no warmth in his face. "I can't."

He rests a hand on my arm, his grip tight, nails digging into my skin. "Return it. Now."

I glance at the space where a door should be. Bea fell down this hole; she could be anywhere. If I could just escape and get to her—

"No leave," says Igris sternly.

"But there's someone I have to see," I burst out. "A girl. She fell down the hole."

Igris throws his head back and laughs. "¿Ella? The stupid one who ate the cherries?"

The lump grows bigger, and I start to feel anger rising in my chest. "Don't talk about her like that." I try to yank my arm free. "Let me go! I've done nothing wrong!"

I'm cut off by Igris hoisting me up from the bench and slamming my back into the wall. There's a click of my neck and then flooding pain. His eyes are slits.

"Enough," he spits. "If you won't cooperate, then the King will decide your fate."

My breathing sounds panicked, and my heart is unsteady. "The King?"

He smiles ruthlessly and I'm pulled down the narrow pathway for the second time that day.