Callum had lost track of the days. It was easy to do when trapped in a cell, his only light source the ever-present light stones. He couldn't even use his meals to gauge the passing of time because he didn't know how much he received per day. The hours between meals felt infinite sometimes, shorter at others. It didn't help that the food was so bland and repetitive, making them blur together. They'd changed to giving him lumpy gruel once Ash left.

Ash.

The thought of her summoned a strange mix of feelings. Concern was the simplest of them, his worry festering over whether she truly made it home or not. His guilt over being the cause of their current situations fed into it as well. Then there was the confusing mess of cold and warmth.

When he had embraced the shattering girl on the beach days ago, he had truly wondered if he was in love. Never before had someone else's struggles made his heart ache so much, made him wish to hold them until he had shielded away all the bad things in the world.

Yet she wasn't the young woman he'd thought she was. She wasn't even the twin of her, because that original person had never truly existed. Odella had drawn him in to gain his trust and, in her mind, strike out at Svenril. Perhaps she hadn't known what the Scion searched for or that Callum would end up being the true target, but she had done whatever she needed to be closer and make his guard drop.

How much of who she'd shown was the real her, and how much was who she believed he wanted her to be?

When Ash adopted the role, he had noticed the differences. She was good at mimicking her sister, but not perfect. There was more gentleness, a slower consideration of the world rather than the way she'd once rushed forward to experience life, and this new attentiveness to others. Small things that gave her a different light and warmth, but still shone brightly.

It somehow only made his feelings more intense. Or maybe that was because of the lune he'd gone, terrified she was dead.

She was also the twin who had actually shown herself to him. Had experienced this horrible situation. Had shared stories with him and listened to the parts of himself he didn't show many others.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. There was no simple way to feel about such a strange situation. Too many tangled strings spun together and squeezed his heart.

Attempts to bury the thoughts of her didn't last long. His alternative was his situation, and that was a similar spiral of uncertainties. He knew why the Scion wanted him, but what was Roan's end goal? Obviously not to kill him, or else Roan would have taken a knife to his neck already. It also led him down the path of worrying about those left behind at Volant. His parents, the friends he'd created amongst his guard, Svenril.

Sometimes he danced with the thoughts of escape, but it would require too many ifs to go right or knowledge of that which was outside of his cell. Other times he dreamed of Svenril locating him and destroying this blasted ship, taking the Scion down with it. If the Tempest Serpent could track him, though, he would have by now.

Groaning, Callum threw his forearm over his eyes, blocking out the ceaseless view of the ceiling. Fatigue weighed down on him, a familiar companion by then, and instead of fighting it, he welcomed it. Sleep.

Sleep would allow him to escape the whirlpool of thoughts that never ended.

He wasn't sure how long he'd floated in the darkness of half-sleep when the footsteps stirred him awake. They grew closer. When had he last had food? It hadn't been too long ago, had it? Recently enough that he was sure that it couldn't be time for more, though.

The door swung open, and heavy steps groaned against the steps. "Up-n-at-em, laddie!"

Callum couldn't deny that he was tempted to feign sleep, but it would just lead to the pirate yelling more or walking into the cell to jostle him. Sighing, he sat up. Dalmat stood on the other side of his cell, a giant smile on his face. Every time Callum saw the strange pirate, he recalled his shared incredulity with Ash.

His heart clenched yet again.

Dalmat slid the key into the cell door. With a click, it unlocked, and he pulled it open. The large, circular keychain was the only item that Dalmat carried.

This was new. His door had never been opened except when sliding his food in and the couple of times they were kind enough to change out his chamber pot. Each time, the attending pirate's intentions were made clear by whatever they had with them.

Callum stood and placed himself against the wall.

Dalmat waved his hand in a dismissal of Callum's concern. "Don't ye worry, laddie. We's just switchin' ships is all. This's just a borrowed one."

"Pardon me if anything having to do with your plans doesn't bring me comfort."

But at least he knew what to expect even before leaving the room. Callum despised all the pirates, but he could admit he hated Dalmat the least. He always had a jolly attitude, never mistreated Callum, and chatted more openly.

"Come along. I got orders to carry ye if ye don't." Dalmat raised knowing brows and smiled, as if this was a joke between buddies and not a threat.

Jaw tight, Callum trudged forward, eyes never leaving the pirate.

"The pleasanter way, then! Follow me." Dalmat didn't bother shutting the cell back before strutting up the steps, whistling off-tune to himself.

Callum hesitated for a moment before following. It was ridiculous to feel odd leaving his prison after however many days, but it had grown to feel safe whereas everything past the door was an unknown.

There was a danger known about his cell though: stagnation. He could make no plans to escape down there. Hopefully, whatever these new arrangements were, they'd provide more opportunities.

Callum paid the ship little mind as Dalmat led him through it, only sending out quick glances to search for anything that could be of use. Unless the pirate lied to him, he wouldn't be seeing these lower decks again.

Based on the unloading taking place above deck, he couldn't imagine it had been false. With the addition of Dalmat, the crew totaled ten pirates. Callum had seen most of the faces. If not during the attack, then on the occasions any of them came down to his cell.

He didn't, however, spot the one who was with the crew, but not part of it. Because he was only the hirer of their service here, as Callum had learned from the one time a duo of pirates brought his food down and then hurled insults at him. They'd wondered why their true captain had loaned them to a Scion for a single boy. Why, if he was so special, they hadn't just grabbed him themselves.

They'd been so loud that the strange fox-man had wandered past and shouted at them for daring to question their captain's intelligence.

"Has your Scion friend abandoned you?" Callum ventured.

Dalmat shook his head. "We's heading to him, actually. Over there, in his cabin." He nodded to the opposite side of the ship where the captain's quarters would be.

When they arrived at its door and Dalmat knocked, the voice Callum hated above all others called back, "Enter."

The anger burning a path through Callum's veins turned to ice when they stepped into the room. The Scion stood in front of a mirror, a water basin on a stand beside him, the water a murky brown. More than likely, it had started out clean.

But he still had barely put a dent in the blood covering his face and bare chest.

Dalmat whistled. "I think ye's made a mess, Roan sir."

Roan tilted his head to the side to scrub at a spot on his neck. "Yes, it would seem so. My friend wasn't very careful where he sprayed when I told him to slice himself open. It's amazing, really. How malleable the cowardly mind is."

Callum's stomach bottomed out, and had he not already been leaning most of his weight against the wall, he could have fallen. "You what?"

Roan's eyes flicked to him in the mirror. There was a strange blank quality to them even as he scoffed. "Settle, priest. You'd be thanking me if you knew the details. I warned a man what would happen if he failed to deliver on a promise, and he's paid the consequences." He glanced down at some rolled-up parchment on the windowsill, eyes hardening. "Dalmat," he snapped, throwing the rag into the basin. "Get me clean water and a new rag."

"O' course, Roan sir. And the lad?"

Roan turned so that he faced the others rather than seeing them through the mirror. His scowl landed on Callum. "Worry not. I can handle him on my own, and he will be ready to escort to the main ship by the time you return."

"Understood!

Dalmat gathered up the basin before heading out, leaving Callum and Roan alone.

There was little point asking the Scion why he had kidnapped him. Callum already knew what value he held to their kind. What he didn't understand was why the Scion enlisted the help of pirates rather than other Scions, those who would want Callum captured just as much. Even if he was an outcast, it could have earned him back their favor, unless Callum misunderstood how it worked. There was also little point asking about this, though, as Roan wouldn't be as forthcoming with information as Dalmat.

Callum could hope he would answer one question, though.

"Is Ash home?"

Roan's lip curled, and he brushed a finger over the blood he'd yet to wash off his face. "Yes, she is."

Callum peered at the Scion through narrowed eyes. There was a vicious delight to be found, something that could be seen as a plan gone right, but no, he was sure something simmered underneath. Something murderous and unsated, despite the blood drenching him.

"You're lying. Something went wrong."

Dropping his hand from his face, Roan leaned backward, half-sitting on the window seat behind him. "I assure you, boy, she is safe." All amusement left his voice, an edge creeping forward to take its place. It should have attempted to end the issue, but instead it almost seemed to dare Callum to keep pushing.

Callum's mouth dried, and he rubbed his palms against his robes, suddenly very aware of how overdressed he was.

Svenril's advice arose from his memories. "If you ever meet one of their kind and they are lusting for bloodshed, flee. They have used an excess of magic, and the loss is temporarily worsening their condition. If you cannot flee, use your gift. Be warned, though, they will not take well to it. You could have a worse situation on your hands if you do not take them out immediately."

He couldn't be foolish. The Scion still kept his head about him, but if Callum was right about what was going on, he didn't want to see how long that would last. If he could only slide a glove off, though, if only to be safe...

"Thank you, then, for getting her back—"

"I am not blind, priest," Roan said, sighing, "but please, take your gloves off. I was going to have you do it, anyway."

Callum froze, one finger slid under the material of the opposite glove in what had meant to look like an adjustment, more from shock at Roan's words than because he'd been caught.

Roan's smirk was back, but the dare hadn't left, asking him to resist, to give the Scion a reason to spill more blood. Callum had always felt rage when looking upon this man, but only now, seeing him in this state, did he think he feared him.

"You were not brought in here to simply see me in a state of half-undress. Yes, you have a purpose here. Now, remove your gloves before I am forced to do it for you, and as we both know, it will be by force, as I cannot just command it."

Despite his words about how commanding it wouldn't work, his eyes glimmered green with the flow of power.

Callum couldn't tell if it was fear or genuine worry that drove him to speak as he pried his gloves off, but either way, it was lunacy in the end. "Careful, Unwoven. I think you have used enough magic for today."

Roan was in front of him in an instant. The glimmer had become a full-on shine, accentuated by the Scion mark weaving around his face. Between stripes that could be comparable to a wild cat's, the blood caking his face, and his enraged snarl, Callum could believe Roan to be a rabid animal ready to tear his throat out.

"I recommend you watch your words," he snapped. "You live only because you can provide something I want, but you are replaceable. I'd only have to wait until I find whoever comes next, and I can be very patient. Now here." Roan shoved something against Callum's chest, forcing him to stagger back. "Put these on."

They were black leather gloves, but they had a metal band inside their too-wide wrists. Callum didn't trust these, but the death threat still hung heavy in the room, and Roan stood less than a foot away, glaring down at him.

It didn't matter how smart he tried to be about anything if he was dead.

He tossed his own gloves to the side and slipped the new ones on. They fit oddly with the wide wrists, the metal bands rubbing uncomfortably with his movement. Considering the purpose of his original gloves, these ones made little sense.

At least until Roan passed his magic-encased hand over each of Callum's. The bands suddenly restricted. They tightened until they fit snugly to Callum's wrists, almost as if they had been fitted there.

"Now, take them off," Roan instructed.

Callum fixed the Scion with a dry stare. "You know I can't. And I'm guessing I won't be able to without your permission now."

"Maybe now you'll remember that just because I can't control you, it doesn't mean I'm not in control."

Callum bit his tongue, but he couldn't keep his eyes from flicking to the diamond crest on the Scion's forehead—the open-ended diamond crest. The magic had yet to fully dim from the man's eyes, and the dare for violence lingered. All too well, he recalled the words Roan had spoken to Ash, about how he was missing something.

How long until that missing something made it so he fully lacked the control he seemed to so value having?

As if sensing his thoughts, Roan's expression darkened. Before he could say anything more, the door swung open again, and Dalmat walked in.

"I have what you asked for, Roan sir!"

Roan's eyes flicked in the pirate's direction. "About time. Put it back where you got it from me the first time. I'll be ready to depart for your ship in half an hour. Make sure everyone else is ready by then. And get him"—he wave his hand at Callum—"out of my sight. Maybe put him to good use somehow."

"Aye, sir!" Dalmat saluted the Scion and then slung his arm around Callum's shoulder. "Come on, laddie! Let's see how ye do carrying supplies, aye?"

Like many things over the last however-many-days, Callum had the feeling he didn't have any choice.

*****

I had soooo much fun with this chapter.  Unmasked Roan is a joy to write, and it was very interesting to explore Callum's complex feelings about the whole Odella-Ash situation.  Plus all the little hints about things :DDD If you want even more fun, I crack myself up reading the glove part because throw on different music and it reads so much like a Dark Romance scene xDDD  And do you guys understand where the blood came from? 👀 Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did.  We aren't done yet >:D 

Let me know your thoughts on the chapter down below, and if you enjoyed it, don't forget to vote and comment! I also have a discord open to anyone who wants to join, and we have a section there to discuss the book :D Let me know if you want to join!