Jac didn’t think of herself as a spoiled noblewoman. The kind of delicate princess with smooth hands and flawless skin that existed just to be saved by the men who fancied themselves heroes. She was willing to work for her dreams. To roll in the dirt with the peasants, sleep on beds of hay, and sweat under a hot sun. She thought a stint in the dungeons would be uncomfortable but simple. The first hour made it clear she had underestimated her ordeal.
She expected the cold, hard stone and the cramped space. What she hadn’t expected was the emptiness. There was nothing else in the room. No mat to sleep on. No blanket to keep away the chill. Not even a chamber pot to piss in. From the smell, the previous inhabitants had used the corners. All the corners. The whole dungeon smelled like a latrine. She’d vomited at the top of the stairs when the smell first slammed into her and had gagged for hours after. She was sure her nose had died, as she could no longer smell anything.
Then there was the darkness. It was so dark, she couldn’t make out her hands in front of her face. She would have thought they would at least have a candle or two in the hall for a patrolling guard but no one ever came to check on her. No patrol meant no need for light. She hadn’t thought about it when her escorts took the small flame of their lamp with them but the longer she spent in the sightless void, the more uncomfortable she felt.
To top off her miserable circumstances, she was hungry. Not that she thought she could eat but her empty stomach didn’t care about her lack of appetite. She usually had a small breakfast on days she worked, being too active for a heavy stomach, and saved her appetite for a sumptuous dinner, usually in the city. The guards had grabbed her before she had the chance. At a guess, she’d spent a few hours in the miserable cell already. That meant close to a full day without any food. Her stomach was having words with her. And while the hunger was bad, the thirst was worse. She’d kill someone for a cup of water.
Jac began to wonder if it was worth it. It hadn’t even been a day and her will was shaken. There was no way she could handle so much as a week and the crown had the power to detain her indefinitely. Something she hadn’t thought about much in the past but now seemed utterly ridiculous.
And for what? The only memory she was safeguarding was her carriage ride. Where on a lonely road in the middle of the night, Lou had used Junior to cancel her engagement. Their conversation and actions heavily suggested that he was somehow under her power but that wasn’t a crime.
The king had it out for the Grimoires. He clearly wanted to make sure the weakened nobles stayed down. She was concerned that he would see her cousin, and her elven bride, as a threat. The only thing worse than the Grimoires was the Grimoires backed by a foreign power.
Jac feared that no one would look deeper into the situation and would act rashly. She wasn’t just protecting her family, she was protecting the kingdom. If Lou did have control of the Masons, which the change in last name strongly implied, then the last thing the king wanted to do was anger her. She didn’t have half the subtly of the Grimoires. They would bludgeon people with their secrets. Lou would bludgeon them with her fists.
Nobles knew the succubi as secret stealers. They forgot that every one of them had the knowledge of a master caster, if not the coefficient of one. A punitive force of the elementals would be devastating against anything they were thrown at. Even the royal knights.
That didn’t mention what would happen if Lou herself got involved. She didn’t have his breadth of knowledge or his experience, but she was every bit the summoner her father was. She was also a lot more creative. It was one area where she could be subtle. If she wanted to hurt the kingdom, she wouldn’t do something as heavy-handed as unleashing a drakkon. She’d do something truly insidious…and much harder to defend against.
A horrible possibility but a vague one, surely. The king wasn’t a stupid man. She understood that his revenge against the succubi and their masters was a long time coming but she refused to believe he would recklessly target anyone connected to the family. Especially not the niece of the man that was meant to be helping him unite the summoners…right? There was no reason for Jac to sit in the disgusting cell for a moment longer…was there? She wished to the saints there wasn’t.
The sound of a heavy door opening interrupted Jac’s attempts to convince herself. She opened her eyes and had to hold back a cheer as a weak glow pierced the gloom. She sat up, wincing at her sore body. She didn’t want to imagine what she looked like and thanked the saints that she was no longer concerned with high society. Rumors of her situation were bound to get out and she’d never live down being thrown in the disgusting dungeons like a common criminal.
The light grew closer, revealing itself as a small lamp held between two guards. Not royal knights. She couldn’t imagine their polished golden boots putting so much as a toe on the soiled stone. Those who came for her were dressed in the unimpressive steel gray of the city guard. Fodder soldiers to do the palace’s dirty work.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
She didn’t expect an answer but the brusque “Get up,” was much colder than she felt was necessary. It wasn’t as if she was a real criminal but the way the two men were looking at her, she had bludgeoned old ladies in their sleep before holding their grandchildren for ransom. They were staring at a disheveled woman thrown into a disgusting, gloomy prison at the whim of a tyrant and their hard stares said they didn’t give a damn.
The door to her cell was opened as she stood. She was motioned outside, upon which her arms were pulled behind her back. “Is this really necess—ow!” Her complaints were ignored as she was marched through the dungeon. To her dismay, it wasn’t toward the exit but deeper into the gloom. Impossibly, the smell worsened. Jac gagged but her escorts didn’t care, pushing her along when she faltered.
At the end of the hall was a heavy door. One of her escorts grunted with effort as he pushed it open a creak at a time, just wide enough for them to slip in. The inside contained nothing but a single chair and half a dozen candles sitting in their respective holders. Jac yelped as she was shoved into the seat. Her arms were forced onto the rests and her wrists bound by leather straps.
A cold fear pooled in Jac’s gut as she suddenly realized that things might have escalated beyond her imaginings. “Hey! HEY! What in the name of the saints is going on?!”
Her two escorts continued to ignore her, one standing by the door while the other lit the other candles in the room. Then they stood on either side of the door, their expressions remaining placid no matter how many questions and curses she threw at them.
A figure dressed in a black cloak slipping into the room stopped her tirade. The cold fear in her gut heated up as anxious excitement surged through her system. Sweat coated her back as she instinctively jerked in her bonds. Because that figure was unmistakable, even if she hadn’t met one barely a year ago.
A royal interrogator.
“No. I said I didn’t want to do this.” Her arms strained against her bindings as the interrogator approached. It was no longer about how her information might affect her family. It was about the enormity of the violation to have one’s mind raided by a mental caster against one’s will. The mere thought was deplorable. It was the exact thing that made the Grimoires such disgusting villains. She couldn’t believe the king would stoop to the same level.
The moment after she had that thought, she couldn’t believe she thought a crown would make someone a saint. The mental affinity was a powerful tool when it came to court intrigue. With the Grimoires, the interrogators’ only competition, gone, the king would have to be a fool or a righteous hero to ignore the opportunity to take their place.
She didn’t know her ruler well, but she knew he was no hero.
“Relax,” the interrogator said as he laid a hand on her head. Between his large hood and the shadows in the room, she couldn’t make out his face. Somehow, it made the whole situation that much more unnerving. “If you don’t struggle, this will be quick and painless.”
Jac didn’t think of herself as a spoiled noblewoman. The kind of delicate princess with smooth hands and flawless skin that existed just to be saved by the men who fancied themselves heroes. She was willing to work for her dreams. To roll in the dirt with the peasants, sleep on beds of hay, and sweat under a hot sun. She thought a stint in the dungeons would be uncomfortable but simple. The first hour made it clear she had underestimated her ordeal.
She expected the cold, hard stone and the cramped space. What she hadn’t expected was the emptiness. There was nothing else in the room. No mat to sleep on. No blanket to keep away the chill. Not even a chamber pot to piss in. From the smell, the previous inhabitants had used the corners. All the corners. The whole dungeon smelled like a latrine. She’d vomited at the top of the stairs when the smell first slammed into her and had gagged for hours after. She was sure her nose had died, as she could no longer smell anything.
Then there was the darkness. It was so dark, she couldn’t make out her hands in front of her face. She would have thought they would at least have a candle or two in the hall for a patrolling guard but no one ever came to check on her. No patrol meant no need for light. She hadn’t thought about it when her escorts took the small flame of their lamp with them but the longer she spent in the sightless void, the more uncomfortable she felt.
To top off her miserable circumstances, she was hungry. Not that she thought she could eat but her empty stomach didn’t care about her lack of appetite. She usually had a small breakfast on days she worked, being too active for a heavy stomach, and saved her appetite for a sumptuous dinner, usually in the city. The guards had grabbed her before she had the chance. At a guess, she’d spent a few hours in the miserable cell already. That meant close to a full day without any food. Her stomach was having words with her. And while the hunger was bad, the thirst was worse. She’d kill someone for a cup of water.
Jac began to wonder if it was worth it. It hadn’t even been a day and her will was shaken. There was no way she could handle so much as a week and the crown had the power to detain her indefinitely. Something she hadn’t thought about much in the past but now seemed utterly ridiculous.
And for what? The only memory she was safeguarding was her carriage ride. Where on a lonely road in the middle of the night, Lou had used Junior to cancel her engagement. Their conversation and actions heavily suggested that he was somehow under her power but that wasn’t a crime.
The king had it out for the Grimoires. He clearly wanted to make sure the weakened nobles stayed down. She was concerned that he would see her cousin, and her elven bride, as a threat. The only thing worse than the Grimoires was the Grimoires backed by a foreign power.
Jac feared that no one would look deeper into the situation and would act rashly. She wasn’t just protecting her family, she was protecting the kingdom. If Lou did have control of the Masons, which the change in last name strongly implied, then the last thing the king wanted to do was anger her. She didn’t have half the subtly of the Grimoires. They would bludgeon people with their secrets. Lou would bludgeon them with her fists.
Nobles knew the succubi as secret stealers. They forgot that every one of them had the knowledge of a master caster, if not the coefficient of one. A punitive force of the elementals would be devastating against anything they were thrown at. Even the royal knights.
That didn’t mention what would happen if Lou herself got involved. She didn’t have his breadth of knowledge or his experience, but she was every bit the summoner her father was. She was also a lot more creative. It was one area where she could be subtle. If she wanted to hurt the kingdom, she wouldn’t do something as heavy-handed as unleashing a drakkon. She’d do something truly insidious…and much harder to defend against.
A horrible possibility but a vague one, surely. The king wasn’t a stupid man. She understood that his revenge against the succubi and their masters was a long time coming but she refused to believe he would recklessly target anyone connected to the family. Especially not the niece of the man that was meant to be helping him unite the summoners…right? There was no reason for Jac to sit in the disgusting cell for a moment longer…was there? She wished to the saints there wasn’t.
The sound of a heavy door opening interrupted Jac’s attempts to convince herself. She opened her eyes and had to hold back a cheer as a weak glow pierced the gloom. She sat up, wincing at her sore body. She didn’t want to imagine what she looked like and thanked the saints that she was no longer concerned with high society. Rumors of her situation were bound to get out and she’d never live down being thrown in the disgusting dungeons like a common criminal.
The light grew closer, revealing itself as a small lamp held between two guards. Not royal knights. She couldn’t imagine their polished golden boots putting so much as a toe on the soiled stone. Those who came for her were dressed in the unimpressive steel gray of the city guard. Fodder soldiers to do the palace’s dirty work.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
She didn’t expect an answer but the brusque “Get up,” was much colder than she felt was necessary. It wasn’t as if she was a real criminal but the way the two men were looking at her, she had bludgeoned old ladies in their sleep before holding their grandchildren for ransom. They were staring at a disheveled woman thrown into a disgusting, gloomy prison at the whim of a tyrant and their hard stares said they didn’t give a damn.
The door to her cell was opened as she stood. She was motioned outside, upon which her arms were pulled behind her back. “Is this really necess—ow!” Her complaints were ignored as she was marched through the dungeon. To her dismay, it wasn’t toward the exit but deeper into the gloom. Impossibly, the smell worsened. Jac gagged but her escorts didn’t care, pushing her along when she faltered.
At the end of the hall was a heavy door. One of her escorts grunted with effort as he pushed it open a creak at a time, just wide enough for them to slip in. The inside contained nothing but a single chair and half a dozen candles sitting in their respective holders. Jac yelped as she was shoved into the seat. Her arms were forced onto the rests and her wrists bound by leather straps.
A cold fear pooled in Jac’s gut as she suddenly realized that things might have escalated beyond her imaginings. “Hey! HEY! What in the name of the saints is going on?!”
Her two escorts continued to ignore her, one standing by the door while the other lit the other candles in the room. Then they stood on either side of the door, their expressions remaining placid no matter how many questions and curses she threw at them.
A figure dressed in a black cloak slipping into the room stopped her tirade. The cold fear in her gut heated up as anxious excitement surged through her system. Sweat coated her back as she instinctively jerked in her bonds. Because that figure was unmistakable, even if she hadn’t met one barely a year ago.
A royal interrogator.
“No. I said I didn’t want to do this.” Her arms strained against her bindings as the interrogator approached. It was no longer about how her information might affect her family. It was about the enormity of the violation to have one’s mind raided by a mental caster against one’s will. The mere thought was deplorable. It was the exact thing that made the Grimoires such disgusting villains. She couldn’t believe the king would stoop to the same level.
The moment after she had that thought, she couldn’t believe she thought a crown would make someone a saint. The mental affinity was a powerful tool when it came to court intrigue. With the Grimoires, the interrogators’ only competition, gone, the king would have to be a fool or a righteous hero to ignore the opportunity to take their place.
She didn’t know her ruler well, but she knew he was no hero.
“Relax,” the interrogator said as he laid a hand on her head. Between his large hood and the shadows in the room, she couldn’t make out his face. Somehow, it made the whole situation that much more unnerving. “If you don’t struggle, this will be quick and painless.”
