Chapter 20 Twenty

Chapter 20 Twenty
"Aerion," I breathed.

It was the man from the dungeons. The same one who'd held me close when I was freezing to death, who'd stroked my hair with unexpected gentleness despite his bitter words. The one who'd tried to protect me when Dragus’s soldiers came to drag me away.

Except now I could see him properly, now that we were both out of that suffocating darkness, and what I saw made my stomach turn in horror.

His face was beaten beyond recognition; one eye was swollen completely shut, his nose was badly broken, and his lips were split in multiple places. 

Dark blood, Nexium black mixed with the gold of Heartwalker heritage, caked his chin and neck.

There was a blade sticking out of his left arm, buried deep in the muscle between his shoulder and elbow. His clothes were soaked through with blood, the fabric gone stiff with it. 

He could barely stand on his own, his legs trembling with the effort, held upright only by the guards' rough grip on his arms.

But his one working eye was sharp and defiant despite everything. Burning with a fury that so much torment hadn't managed to extinguish.

I climbed off the windowsill slowly, the sheet trailing behind me as I took a hesitant step toward him.

"Are you the girl from the dungeons?" he asked, his voice a raspy whisper as he stared me down.

"I am," I said, my own voice shaking. "Aerion, it's me, Cupid. We were together down there. You... you took care of me."

I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to offer some small comfort. But when I raised my hand, I saw the hard look on Dragus's face and snatched it back.

I turned to Dragus instead, shock and horror turning in my chest.

"Why did they do this to him?" I demanded, my voice sharp and accusing.

Dragus tilted his head, studying me with those burning red eyes.

"They tell me he grew bold," he said calmly. "All your pretty talk of hope and rescue down in that cell gave him ideas, it seems. Notions of escape and fighting back." His smile widened. "He lashed out at the guards when they came to retrieve you, tried to break free and run."

He paused, letting his gaze slide down Aerion's battered form.

"Obviously, it did not end quite as gloriously as he'd imagined in his head. Did it?"

The guards released Aerion at the same time and he crumpled to the floor in a heap.

I couldn't help myself.

I ran to him, dropping to my knees and catching him before his head could hit the stone. I gathered him into my arms as gently as I could, cradling his broken body against my chest.

"It's okay," I whispered, stroking his grimy hair with trembling fingers. "You're okay, I've got you, just breathe…"

But I could feel the life draining out of him with every shallow breath he took. His body was giving up and shutting down, surrendering slowly to his injuries that were too severe to survive.

I'd used the last of my magic on myself earlier; those sorry gloves in the freezing dungeon and then to break Cersei’s hold on my body.

There was nothing left, there was no magic that I could access in this hate-filled place, no love to gather together and offer to save him.

I grieved for the boy he used to be, sobbing faintly. To have lived such a bleak, hopeless life and now to die such a brutal death.

His working eye focused on me with effort, then drifted past me over the window, to the small rectangle of ever-dark sky.

"So that is your name… Cupid," he whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear. "It was you, you gave me the strength to fight, to try again despite everything." 

His cracked lips pulled into something that might have been a smile, but my eyes were too blurred with tears, so I could not know. "At least now... I can die... having finally seen the sky one last time."

"No." The word tore out of me. "No, Aerion, you're not going to die, I won't let you…"

But even as I said it, I felt his heartbeat growing slower and more irregular, beating out of sync.

I looked up at Dragus desperately, abandoning all pride, all dignity, all past pretence of strength.

"Please," I begged, tears streaming freely down my face. "Please save him. Help me save him, I'm begging you." 

My voice broke completely as I sobbed, "Hurt me if you want, punish me however you see fit, but I cannot… I cannot live with myself if you hurt another person for my sake. Please…. spare his life."

Dragus threw his head back and laughed as though I’d just told the funniest joke he'd heard in centuries.

"Spare him?" He shook his head, still chuckling. “I have always considered that to be the strangest, most puzzling of all Heartwalker notions. To save the weak rather than crush them as they deserve. As nature itself demands." 

He gestured dismissively. "Why, precisely, should I waste precious resources healing a prisoner who dared raise his hand against one of my guards?"

"No, no, no, no," I whispered, stroking Aerion's face frantically, feeling him grow colder in my arms. "Please, please don't do this…"

Dragus turned his attention to one of the guards, the larger one, whose sword was oddly absent.

"Look at poor Balfour here," Dragus said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "That was his favorite blade. A gift from his father from long before the great war, and now it sits buried in a prisoner's arm, covered in blood and filth." 

He clicked his tongue. "What an inconvenience. What disrespect."

He crouched down until he was at eye level with me, his burning gaze fixed on my tear-stained face.

"Should I truly permit such an insult to my soldiers to go unpunished? Should I let this worthless creature who caused such inconvenience simply walk away unscathed?"

He smiled viciously. "What manner of king would that make me, I wonder?"

"Please." I could barely speak past the sobs. "He's sorry. We're both sorry. I'll… I'll do anything, just please…”

"Prove it to me, then." 

He reached out and traced one finger down my cheek, collecting a tear and studying it curiously.

"Give me something in exchange for this worthless life. Something of value, something I actually want." His eyes glittered with cruel amusement. "We shall see if Balfour considers it fair compensation for his trouble. Wont we, Balfour?”

His soldier grunted in response, standing up straighter.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my mind racing desperately as I considered his demands.

I knew what he wanted. It was what he'd wanted since the moment he'd first caught me.

"I yield," I whispered, though the words stung like poison on my tongue. "You win.”

“I'll do everything you want. I will obey your every command. I'll wait on your every whim and spend the rest of my life serving you and you alone."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Just please. Please help me save him. He doesn't deserve to die."

"Ah. So there is a brain in that golden head of yours after all."

I forced myself to look up at him, to meet those terrible eyes. "If that is your wish, then I will concede. Your every word is my command," I said, hating every word. "My king. My master. I am whatever you say I am."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then his face changed, his cruel amusement growing, mixing with fearful satisfaction that made my skin crawl.

"I have lived a long time, little Heartwalker," he said quietly. "I have plotted and schemed through centuries of war and politics. I know a desperate, half-hearted lie when I hear one."

I tried frantically, "But I… I mean it, I swear…"

"Enough." He held up one hand. "I merely jest."

Aerion gasped in my arms, a deep rattling sound that spoke of failing lungs, and I clutched him tighter against my chest and sent a prayer up to the goddess.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into his filthy hair, rocking ever so slightly. "I'm so sorry. You'll be okay. I promise. I promise."

Dragus stood, looking down at us with satisfaction at seeing me brought so low, considering my offer.

"You entertain me, light-bringer," he said finally. "More than anything has in quite some time. So I will hold you to your word, every single promise you just made."

He reached down and gripped my face roughly, forcing my head up away from Aerion, turning it side to side as if examining something he’d just bought.

"But understand this," he continued, his voice dropping to that velvet threat I'd come to recognise.

"The moment I see a spark of defiance burning a bit too bright in these eyes of yours, the moment you break even the smallest part of this bargain, there will be no second chance.”

His grip tightened until I whimpered and shut my eyes.

"I will drag him back from whatever healer has patched him together, and I will personally ensure he dies slowly enough that you hear every last scream. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, I understand."

He released me and straightened, gesturing sharply to the guards.

"Take him away."

They moved forward immediately, grabbing Aerion's arms and hauling him up.

"Wait!" I tried to stand, the sheet tangling around my legs. "Where are they taking him?"

"To be healed," Dragus said, glancing at me with disinterest. "There is a human doctor three territories over who has proven... adequate at mending flesh, despite his mortal limitations. Since we Nexium cannot harness healing magic, a design flaw in our creation that has always irritated me, we must make do with cruder methods."

I nodded frantically, relief flooding through me so intense it made me dizzy. "Thank you. Thank you, I…"

"You need not concern yourself with his fate any longer, or the fate of any other unfortunates within this fortress." Dragus's voice cut me off, not caring a bit about my gratitude. "That is not what I keep you around for."

He moved closer to me, taking step after predatory step.

"Now," he said softly, dangerously. "Remove that sheet and position yourself on the bed with your legs spread."

I stuttered, my mind going numb as I resigned myself to my fate.

"The day is long," he continued, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made my entire body grow tense. "And so is the night ahead of us."

He smiled, absolutely without mercy.

"I have many, many uses for you, dear Cupid. And we are going to explore every single one of them."