A Stolen Voice

A Stolen Voice
They take more blood. Enough for the edges of my vision to go black. Enough that I am fighting to stay conscious until I absolutely can’t. 

It’s a painful sleep that overtakes my body. Although my brain cannot keep me awake, I still feel the pain, still feel the draining. I want to stay up, to wait for Dastan to arrive, to wait for his rescue and my freedom.

But I can’t stay up. 

Consciousness doesn’t rush back in until I feel something brush against my skin. It’s soft, almost comforting. 

A groan slips from my lips as my eyes blink open. Pain radiates through my head, pulsing. Everything swims.

The tent ceiling comes into focus, the canvas shifting above me as though there’s a storm outside. Voices murmur nearby.

I blink again, trying to gather my thoughts. The chain is gone from my wrists and I can bring my hands up to my face. My arms feel impossibly heavy, but I feel the cool air against my skin. 

I frown, lowering my gaze. The breath catches painfully in my throat. I’m naked. For one terrible heartbeat, I can’t move. But when I feel panic rushing through me, I lurch upright. 

The room spins violently, and I nearly collapse back onto the rug.

“Easy.”

It’s a man’s voice, but not Kaan’s. 

One of the men kneeling beside me lowers his eyes, refusing to meet mine. He has a length of crimson fabric folded carefully across his forearms.

Only then do I notice the second man standing several paces away, watching us. 

My pulse pounds. “What are you doing?”

The kneeling soldier swallows. “We were ordered to prepare you.”

The words make my stomach tighten. “Prepare me for what?”

He hesitates. Before he can answer, the heavy curtain dividing the tent is pulled aside. Kaan steps through without hurry.

His gaze settles on me, eyes dragging over every inch of my body. I lift my arms, wrapping them around my chest. His eyes flash with amusement, and he shifts his gaze to the man with the folded garments. 

He nods his approval, stepping closer. “These are robes meant for a queen.”

The man carefully unfolds the garment. Layers of deep black and crimson spill over his arms, embroidered with patterns and heavy clasps.

Kaan’s smile is almost gentle. “They’ll never believe you’re their Anointed if you arrive dressed as a prisoner.”

I can’t look away from the fabric. A queen, the Anointed. 

The words have followed me since I met Alvina that night. It feels so long ago now, and yet the words, the titles they all bestow on me are so foreign to my nature. 

Somewhere beyond that portal, there are people who have spent years believing I was dead. People that I wasn’t even aware existed. A family that I should belong to, and a kingdom that somehow belongs to me.

I should want to know them. I should want answers. But all I can think about is the home I already have. With Dastan. The thought of leaving him behind feels like someone is asking me to cut pieces from my own body.

“You keep talking about my people,” I say, my voice rough from exhaustion. “Why are you so sure that they will listen to you over me?”

His brow arches.

“I will never stand beside you. I will yell my hatred for you at the top of my lungs.”

“You will stand beside me,” he grits. 

He says nothing else, nodding toward the man kneeling beside me. He reaches for me, wiping the blood on my wrist as he gently pulls the needle out of my skin. 

I cry out, the pain immediate but short. 

Another man appears behind me, combs trembling fingers through my tangled hair. Kaan circles me slowly, studying me as they wipe me clean, as they try to hide all the pain they’ve caused. 

“The bruises are unfortunate,” he mutters, eyes tracking every dark blotch across my skin. “But the portal will take care of those.”

I keep my eyes on him, not giving him a single look that might express my confusion at his words. What does that mean, exactly?

He steps behind me. “Of course, when we arrive, I expect there will be questions.”

I can’t see him, but his voice is foreboding. It sends my heart into a panicked rhythm. 

His hand settles lightly against my shoulder as he kneels. “You are right that they will look to you before they look to me.”

“I’ll tell them everything,” I sneer. 

“You’ll try.”

I keep myself still, closing my eyes as his hand wanders around my shoulder to my collarbone, letting his fingers rest around my neck. 

I feel him tense behind me, then his voice deepens. “Hold her.”

Every muscle in my body locks. The men don’t hesitate, they reach for me. One of them holding down my legs while the other grabs my arms. 

“No.”

I wrench violently away from them. The movement tears away the needle from my thigh. I register the pain, but I don’t care. I keep attempting to pull away. 

“No!”

Ice bursts beneath my palms, a thin sheet racing across the cave floor. For one glorious heartbeat, I think I’ve done enough to save myself. But then it shatters, delicate like glass. 

My strength gives out, Kaan watching the failed attempt almost curiously. “So much power and yet you do not know how any of it works.”

Tears fall down my face as I try one more time to pull away from their holds. Kaan bends my head back, looking directly into my eyes.

“I cannot have my Anointed speaking ill of me.” 

He reaches inside his robes, pulling out a small silver blade. My eyes widen, wondering what he has planned. 

The men tighten their grip. I thrash and the world spins. Kaan raises the blade, the metal glinting as he lowers it to my face. 

Everything goes black. 

——————

When I come to, all I taste is iron. Blood coating the inside of my mouth. I try to swallow the thick sludge at the back of my throat.

But only agony answers. 

Confused, I lift shaking fingers to my mouth. My lips are swollen and sticky, painful to the touch. I open them to groan out my misery, but only a wet, broken sound comes. 

It feels…different. 

My heart rate spikes, beating so fast that I hear it in my ears. I press my fingers into my mouth. 

Another sound escapes me. It’s supposed to be a scream, but it’s only air. Grief and silence all meshed into one. Horror fills me as I scramble back, my spine slamming into the pole. 

I see movement in my periphery: Kaan standing a few feet away. He watches me with unreadable eyes, swaying back and forth. “The portal will heal every wound your body has suffered. But it cannot restore what has been cut away.”

My entire body shakes. I try to curse him, but nothing comes.

Only blood and silence.