Page 93

Story: Blood Rains Down

But subconsciously, I was hoping that someone would give me a good enough reason to hit them, so when I had to explain myself to Andrues, he would agree that I had only done what was best.

Unfortunately, our reasonings for inciting violence did not align, and his tolerance to debauchery wasmuchhigher than mine.

Reaching for my drink, I watched as Cyloe skulked on the worn staircase that led to rooms that filled by the end of each night. I’d spent my fair share of nights in those rooms. Sometimes because I was too drunk or beaten to show my face in the castle, but usually it was because I was taking care of men who didn’t understand that women’s bodies did not belong to them.

The look that crossed their face, the pure horror when they realized that “no” and “please” meant as little to me as it did them, should have been enough.

But it wasn’t.

I wouldn’t stop until I had wiped the foul, pathetic existence of these men from the face of Nimbria, or until I was dead.

Over the last nine months, I had managed to get five women out from the iron grip this life had on them. I’d pulled them from Blackthorn wearing a man’s skin, so when I guided them into the back alley, no one even cared to wonder why. All that was left in that dank space when their husbands came looking was sheep’s blood, and a tattered piece of their clothing. There were hundreds of villages scattered across Locdragoon and I would fill them all with women who deserved a better life.

My fingers wrapped around the small copper cup as I lifted it to my lips and let the brandy slide down my throat. A cough worked its way out of my lungs against the burning sensation as I took a swig of my cider to mute the taste it had left in my mouth.

I hadnevertasted brandy so bitter.

It was nothing like the subtle sweet taste I was used to. I took a large gulp of cider to wash away the bitterness from the brandy as I turned back toward the room and my body swayed with the movement. My eyes darted to the cup in my hand, then to the cup sitting empty on the bar.

Something was wrong.

There was no way in hell one dram of brandy would get me drunk. Sure, I hadn’t drank in a few days, but this—this wasn’t right.Slowly, I turned back to the bar, setting the cup down and grabbing onto the ledge to stabilize legs that were losing their strength at a rapid pace.

Something was really fucking wrong.

The edges of my vision blurred, a fuzziness creeping over everything in my line of sight and I forced myself to focus.

Focus.

But it wasn’t working.

My eyes darted to the stairs as my tongue began to feel like a weight inside my mouth. Panic was setting in as I looked for Cyloe, but I couldn’t make her out.

I could barely make anything out as the world began to tilt around me.

It wasn’t until my head connected with the ground and a sharp pain flared down my neck that I realized the swirling—the room spinning around me—was a symptom of my body collapsing on the floor.

My eyes blinked against the pain but I couldn’t see past the red and black spots that had consumed my sight.

Every alarm in my head was screaming, ringing at a deafening volume as I tried and failed to push myself from the ground.

I was losing control of my senses.

Pain exploded through my head for a second time as a sharp object landed on the back of my skull, and just before consciousness fled my body, I understood what was happening.

I had been poisoned.

Footstepsshuffledaroundme.

Gravel crunching below boots echoed through the room as a heavy thrum of pain pulsed through my head. A groan escaped my lips as my eyes blinked halfway open to a dimly lit space.

The sting of flesh splitting bloomed across the left side of my face as knuckles collided against my jaw. My head snapped to the side as I hissed at the pain.

The tang of blood saturated my mouth, and it wasn’t until I tried to protect myself from the second blow coming for my other cheek, that I realized I was bound to the chair I sat in.

A snarl erupted from my throat as I thrashed against the rope pulled tight around my wrists.

This wasn’t happening.

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