Queensmen

Chapter 7

~One Big Family~

Oris did not get any sleep that night for fear that she might sleep off and miss the perfect opportunity to alert someone of her miraculous awakening. She had already mapped out how the conversation would go and knew to remain apathetic to any and all persuasion that she'd be faced with.

She flexed her fingers and balled them, over and over again as she waited and soon the sun's rays started trickling into the room. They were soft at first, little splotches of light that managed to peek out from behind the horizon the the sky was aflame with color, oranges and red in vivid streaks.

That had been her first sunrise in days. It's appearance somehow made the twelve hours she had stayed awake worthwhile.

Groggily but with a smile, she pulled herself up into a seating position, too tired to do anything other than lean her upper body against the headboard. The exhaustion she felt now had probably wiped away any other expression from her face.

Oris was sure that whatever sparkle had been in her eye yesterday had long since vanished. She was sure that she looked the part of someone who had truly just woken up from days of slumber but she wondered if she had overdone it. She hadn't been this tired when her eyes had first opened.

Today was the deadline the physician had given, someone had to come check on her and see if it was time to throw her body out and pretend she never existed. Or did she have to walk out and find them?

Just as she was mustering up the strength to drag herself out of bed and do just that, the door to the room was pushed open.

Tristan, Marcka and an old man who had to have been Father, filed into the room, all with varying degrees of worry display on their features.

That all changed when Oris held their gazes. For a moment she didn't speak, deciding to let the guilt the men felt fester. There were so many things she could do: burst into tears at the sight of her kidnappers; start screaming in fear, afraid of what they would do to her; crawl to the so-called Father and beg him to save her.

Oris chose the most regal option and cleared her throat, not taking her eyes off her visitors. "I need water," the words came out scratchy but she chose not to mind—it was hard not to when it resulted in the priest wincing. She could tell that he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Too bad Mother Earth didn't deal with sinners dressed in dark green cassocks. That was the job of Aluta, female god of livestock and worship.

"You're awake," Marcka stated as Tristan walked to the table. He looked both surprised, satisfied and disappointed. Oris couldn't tell whether he wanted her dead or not so she ignored him and turned to the quivering priest.

"Who are you?"

"Where am I?" she asked again, just to sound realistic. She figured that a captive would want to know where they were being held. It made locating where they were taken from easier.

"I am Father Jones, priest of MaryHills convent, where you are at the moment," he said slowly as though he was afraid of letting any important information slip. He didn't mention the former name of the state or the current name of the fiefdom. Oris had to stop her eyes from rolling. Despite you shaking so much you still don't want to risk me leaving. What a typical man.

"I take it you're their employer?" Once she asked the question, the man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He didn't like the title she had given him, she could see. Like in his mind he had labeled what he had done—giving two men money to get a girl—something else entirely.

He was not as old as she had imagined but it was clear that he was not as limber as he once was. It was also clear that he was someone who knew right from wrong and had advocated for many to do the former. For him to stoop this low meant that Sister Eve meant more to him than a place in paradise. Maybe she was actually his daughter, a forbidden one since celibacy was a requirement for priesthood.