Casimir

True to his word, the King ensures we are carefully watched. The second we are brought down to the Kinjri dungeons the next morning, a guard shoves us through the door, slams it shut, and stands with his arms folded in front of it.

What he did not stand true on is his agreement of providing the Kinjri with some food. Killian and I stand empty handed before the hallway, our own stomachs growling from lack of nutrition.

It's an easy thing to push out of mind. Growing up as a deserter, we knew there may be times where food would be hard to find. Trina trained us for this. And as it turns out, it's a relatively easy thing to ignore when your own situation is dire.

I glance at Killian out of the corner of my eye, but his eyes are trained on the hallway before us, filled with chained up people, hanging on for their lives. A shudder crawls down my spine.

It was only recently that I learned of their existence, but it shakes me nonetheless. They look just as human as I do. Killian starts forward first, moving to the first Kinjri in the hall. The cuffs at his wrist clink together, the skin beneath burning red. I watch as he kneels down, murmurs something in the man's ear, to no avail. The man doesn't even flinch.

Killian rests his head gently back down, turning to look at me over his shoulder. He shakes his head.

I start forward as Killian moves to the next person, a younger woman, greasy hair hanging over her face. Watching as he gently lifts her arm, brushes her hair back from her face, I think, briefly, of Freya.

Is she in a similar state, trapped in some Torinnian dungeon? The uncertainty in her fate makes my stomach groan more than the lack of nutrition. If we even manage to get out of this place, how in hell are we supposed to find her?

I watch as Killian rests her arm back down and readjusts her body so she isn't slumped over herself. His movements are so gentle, soft. Completely opposite to his outside exterior. I do not let myself be fooled.

He betrayed Freya, all of us, once. There's no telling he won't do it again.

"This is pointless," I say in exasperation. "We can't help them if they won't acknowledge us."

"Do you have any better ideas, Casimir?" Killian responds.

I keep my mouth shut.

"Besides," he raises his voice, loud enough for the guard to hear, "they're not ignoring us, they're dead."

My stomach tightens as I gaze over the rest of the bodies. How many of them are still alive? How many are destined to rot and wither here, till their bodies intertwine back into the earth?

Silence wraps around us in the dimly lit chamber.

As Killian rises, I catch his arm with my conjoined hands, the cuffs clanging together. "If they're all dead, what's your plan huh?"

Killian meets my eye. His expression is scarily calm considering the situation. "Let me go, Casimir."

"Hey," the guard calls out. Over Killian's shoulder, he places one hand on the hilt of his sword. "What're you two murmuring about?"

Killian tilts his head ever so slightly. I grit my teeth before releasing his arm. Turning to the guard, he raises his voice so it carries through the hall.

"Many of these Kinjri are dead," he says. "Does your King know that?" The guard does not respond. "The ones that aren't certainly won't do any talking with you around."

"Well you better try," the guard says. "I have strict orders from the King that you are not to leave my sight."

But Killian, annoyingly adept at getting what he wants, persists. "Kinjri are spiritual beings, their gifts are sacred. These beings need their space to speak freely, if your King wants us to extract any information."

"We're not going to escape, if that's what you're worried about," I chime in, "there's only one way in here. Standing outside the door and guarding it is hardly different to being inside."

"Privacy is key if I am to train then to locate the Cloud Piercer," Killian continues. "Wouldn't you agree?"

His question hangs in the air as the guard hesitates. He glances at the motionless Kinjri. After a moment's contemplation, he reluctantly nods and steps outside, leaving the chamber in a hushed solitude.

Killian and I exchange glances before he nods at the girl he was just tending to.

I kneel at her side as Killian gently tugs on her arm, conjuring her head to lift slightly. Her eyes half-open, leaving her in a half-dazed state as she blinks at the two of us. But she looks through us, as if we aren't even there.

"Hey." I soften my voice. "We're here to help. Can you hear us?"

The girl barely registers my voice.

Killian brushes her hair from her eyes, clearing her face from obstruction. A gray sheen covers her skin, cheeks devoid of colour.

"Maybe if we got some food into her..." Killian murmurs.

"They're not even giving us food," I say. "I don't think we should hold out on that."

Putting his hands on her cheeks, Killian guides her eyes to his. But even then, she doesn't seem to see him.

"What've they done to you?" he murmurs beneath his breath.

I have to fight to look away. Human, kinjri, shifter -- no matter the species, I can't imagine what somebody could ever do to deserve such treatment.

"You won't be getting anything out of that one."

The voice comes from down the long hallway, whispering through the darkness. Instinctively, I reach for my belt, but my conjoined hands come up empty. We are completely defenseless.

"Who's there?" I ask. "Who said that?"

Killian gently puts the girl's body back against the wall and rises to his feet, staring into the darkness. Taking small steps forward, the darkness swallows him whole.

I follow after him, an eerie feeling creeping up my spine as the light from the lantern at the door becomes a mere speck in the distance. Trying not to look at the bodies discarded on the sides we walk through, I keep my gaze forward, trained on Killian's back, trusting his somewhat advanced night vision not to lead me into another body.

When he stops, I follow his movements, squinting my eyes to make out the dark figure lumped on the ground. Crouching to my knees, they become clearer. Long, stringy gray hair hangs in her face, sticking to the sides of her cheeks. Skin aged with life, rags hang off her wiry frame. Bur bright blue eyes shine through in the darkness.

"Have you come to kill us?" she asks, voice croaky.

I exchange glances with Killian. "No," I say eventually. "We... we want to..."

I can't finish my sentence. We're here to buy time. Not to force the Kinjri to locate Freya, not to help the King, not to rescue these imprisoned Kinjri when we can't even save ourselves.

"We're prisoners of King Ereon, just like you," Killian says.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she raises her hand to touch Killian's face. "Your voice... you're the commander's son. Oh how I have missed the voices of my country." Killian doesn't resist her touch, staying deathly still. "You are a very long way from home, child. Why have you left Torinne? Is the commander imprisoned too?"

I watch his face carefully. Killian has not spoken of his family.

But instead, he asks, "How long have you been down here?"

"I... I lost count," she says, drawing her hand back. "Many years. At first, the King kept me healthy. He needed me then you see. Now, he gives me enough just to stay alive."

"What's your name?"

"Rosemary."

"Rosemary, I fear you've been here for a very long time," Killian says. "I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but Torinne isn't habitable. The cloud took over. Everybody had to flee. The cloud is here now, in Elel, too."

Her expression darkens. A watery sheen covers her eyes as her brows draw together. She drops her hands from his face and draws back into herself, wrapping her thin arms around her knees.

"No..." she murmurs. "No."

"Rosemary--"

"I didn't know..." Her breath catches. "I thought the boy could be trusted... I thought Nala knew what she was doing--"

"Nala?" Killian catches her arm. "How do you know Nala?"

But Rosemary is lost in her mind. "They brought the little boy here and she told me to do it but I... I didn't know what it would mean, that he would--"

The grating metal of a door interrupts her. Killian drops her arm as we both propel backwards, quick enough for the guard to eye us up. "Times up," he snaps. "King wants you back in your cell."

"But we barely got started," I protest.

"So start tomorrow. For now, back in your cell."