Page 60 of Maneater

“Today, fate begins to turn,” Gadriel said, seated across from me at his private dining table as the bell tower chimed. He spoke casually between bites, each one stoking my anger a little more.

After Hadeon vanished, the same stewardess from the night before returned to help me dress.

She brought a fresh set of clothes and guided me to the bath.

Through it all, the chain around my waist never came off.

It hung loosely around me while the fabric of my old clothes had to be cut away, torn until I stood bare.

The chain was the only thing that remained, and I still couldn’t fight it.

She washed my hair, lathered my skin in soap, and all the while, my thoughts kept circling back to the pendant, how it had done nothing to Hadeon.

I sat expressionless, no different from a doll placed at Gadriel’s table. The stone’s oppressive force left me docile and languid. Even the idea of lifting a hand felt impossible.

“The stewardess managed well enough,” Gadriel commented, eyeing the Hyrallean-style shift I’d been dressed in. It was the only thing thin enough to slip beneath the chain. “It’s almost as if you never left.”

“You cut her tongue,” I mumbled thickly. “Why? ”

His eyebrow lifted, as if pleased I’d spoken at all. “Because it had to be done. It is a precaution for you, for us. Imagine what the folk of Hyrall would say if they knew I was harboring a devil in the castle. It would stir quite the uproar.”

He set his fork down and leaned forward, his amber eyes roaming my face. “Only three folk know you’re here, that you’ve returned to Hyrall. And I intend to keep it that way. You are my prized possession, Odessa. No one can know you exist. Everything depends on your power and what you’ll do for me.”

“Why do you think I’ll obey you?”

“Because I control what lives inside you,” he replied. “Hadeon explained what happens when a devil goes too long without striking bargains. You’ll weaken. You’ll waste away. Sooner or later, you’ll come to me because you won’t have a choice.”

“And if I choose to die?”

His eyes were almost pitying. “Then I’ll help you see reason. Slowly, painfully if I must. You’ll serve me because I’ll find a way to bend you to my will. And then I’ll make sure death is the one thing you’ll never reach. You’ll beg for it, Odessa. And I’ll be there to say no.”

I raised my eyes to him and lifted my chin as best I could.

“I’ve stood with death more times than you could count, Gadriel. I know what it craves, what it desires. Death seeks the fearful. I’ve met it, faced it, and come back again and again. Some things don’t break the way you expect them to.”

Something vile flickered across Gadriel’s face as he stood abruptly, his chair dragging back with a grating sound. He breathed out once, and his expression smoothed over.

“You hear them, don’t you?” he questioned.

I didn’t respond, but his tone was unsettling.

“When the bell rang at first high-chime, the order was given. The sentries gathered every cityfolk, highborn, lowborn, it made no difference. They’re all waiting now, outside these walls to hear the speech I’ve prepared. And as for you, I’ve arranged something special.”

Gadriel stepped away from his chair. “Bring them in,” he ordered over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine.

The doors to the dining room swung open, and Sir Karst and Sir Regis entered, gripping two women by the arm.

I couldn’t tell who they were, only that one was tall and thin, the other shorter and frail.

Burlap sacks covered their heads, masking their faces.

The only clues I could find about their identities lay in their clothing.

Both wore simple dresses with frock aprons.

Then my eyes dropped to their hands, bound in chains.

One pair was noticeably younger than the other.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked Gadriel. “More stewardesses?”

“Not quite.” He smiled coolly as he spoke, gesturing for the knights to step closer. “I brought them to you, Odessa, as a courtesy. You must understand, everything I do is for the sake of the kingdom, for the folk of Hyrall. And the sacrifices ahead, well, they’re simply the price of progress.”

“What are you saying? Why are they here?”

Gadriel began to move towards me and that unmistakable pressure came with him.

He had to be carrying another piece of the stone.

My chest ached, air becoming shallower with every step he took.

He didn’t stop until he stood directly behind me, one hand resting on the back of my chair, the other settling on my shoulder.

Leaning down, his voice brushed my ear. “The least I could do is let you say goodbye.”

My eyes flickered with alarm, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what came next. Sir Karst stepped forward and yanked the burlap sack from the first woman’s head. The moment I saw her, it felt as though a stone had dropped onto my chest.

“Mag,” I breathed.

Bruises lined her collarbones, and a dark blotch spread beneath her left eye.

Her hair clung wildly to her face, still tousled from the sack.

And yet, when her eyes found mine, there was no shock, no flicker of surprise.

She looked just as she had the last time I saw her in her apothecary. That felt like lifetimes ago.

“The time has come, hasn’t it, little one?” she rasped, expression as severe as ever. Not a trace of fear marked her face. “The third crossing.”

I faintly remembered Mag’s parting words in the apothecary years ago: “We’ll only cross paths once more, little one.”

I summoned what little strength I had to turn my head, just enough to catch a glimpse of Gadriel’s face.

“Let her go,” I ground out. “She has nothing to do with this.”

Gadriel clicked his tongue. “You’re mistaken, Odessa. This woman stands accused of multiple crimes against the kingdom. After a thorough investigation and several inquisitions, the charges were confirmed. As with all who defy the law, she will face justice. Just as any citizen must.”

“What could she have possibly done?” I demanded.

“What’s ahead can be endured, little one,” Mag’s voice rang out. “A greater power is at work, far more dangerous than you know. The stone can only?—”

“Silence her,” Gadriel cut in.

Sir Karst stepped forward and kicked the back of Mag’s leg. The older woman dropped to her knees with a sharp cry. But before she could speak again, the knight forced a cloth into her mouth and tied it fast.

Gadriel’s voice hardened. “Take her away. Now.”

Karst pulled Mag upright and dragged her toward the door.

She didn’t speak, didn’t fight. The elderly woman I’d known in Brier Len didn’t seem afraid.

She moved with a stillness that wasn’t defeat.

It was something stronger. And I knew, even then, it was the last time we’d speak.

So I tried to move, to reach out for her, but my body wouldn’t obey .

“There’s not much time left,” Gadriel muttered, the hand resting on my shoulder tightening, his fingers digging in. “Now, Regis.”

The other knight stepped forward, dragging the second woman with him. The woman stumbled, almost tripping, and he tore the sack from her head.

The sight of her stopped everything inside me. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“Mother,” I gasped.

Her face was so familiar, so close, that it made my chest cave in.

I hadn’t seen her in over a year, but she looked just as I remembered, just as I’d dreamed on restless nights.

Her obsidian eyes were clouded, but her raven hair still caught the light.

There were no bruises, not like Mag, but she was so thin, so fragile, I couldn’t understand how she was still standing.

Something cracked open in me. All the burden I thought I could carry came rushing back. The guilt for abandoning her. For not checking in. For not making sure she was safe. Had my father hurt her while I was taken? But then I remembered, he wasn’t really my father, was he?

Had my mother met Wrath, carried me in her belly, and then married another man just to protect us both?

My face crumpled as my mouth trembled. And I knew the truth of it, I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was.

All the courage, all the pride, it was armor.

The kind worn when there’s a breaking underneath.

The ground below me was already fractured, and I’d filled it with anger, with violence, with anything that would keep me standing.

So why now? Why was it all falling apart?

This was what it meant to be human. To carry the weight of love and loss, guilt and doubt. More than anything, I wished I were back in Torhiel, where everything was exact and defined. Where only bargains and my ossiraen mattered. Where choices were clear. Not buried in all these shades of gray .

My mother’s eyes moved slowly around the dining room, wide with quiet wonder at the gold, the crystal, the light.

She had likely never stood in a place like this.

A faint crease lingered between her brows, a trace of confusion.

But then her face softened into something calm.

As she always did when she felt fear, she started to hum gently.

And below her waist, her thumbs moved in slow, overlapping circles beneath the weight of the chains.

The sound of her humming carved guilt deep into my chest.

Tears welled up fast and fell harder. I had failed her. Left her behind. Led her into the arms of a madman. My body shook helplessly. Gadriel’s hand clamped down harder on my shoulder. He didn’t speak, but I felt his satisfaction.

Tears clouded my vision as I looked at my mother again, and finally, her eyes met mine. I wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but no words came. Instead, my mother just tilted her head and smiled at me. Like nothing had changed. Like we were back in Brier Len, in our old cottage, safe.

Then she spoke.

“Hush, my little raven. Everything will be alright.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I blurted.

The ache inside me erupted, releasing a rush of something primal that sent me lunging from the chair. But Gadriel moved fast, his arm locked around my chest and forced me back down.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he grunted, shoving me into the seat.

“Let her go!” I shouted. “What are you going to do to her, Gadriel?”

I hated the way my voice broke. Hated how it sounded like pleading. But desperation drags you to places you never thought you’d go.

“Regis, take her away. Bring her to the square.”

“The square?” I echoed. “What does that mean?”

Sir Regis stepped forward and pulled the burlap sack over my mother’s head again. I caught one last look at her, confusion flickering across her face, and then she was gone, dragged from the room.

“Mother! Wait!”

The flare of desperation that had fueled me started to fade. I kept thrashing, but my strength was slipping. Gadriel reached into his pocket and pulled out another tassel. It gleamed black, the tiny iron rings clinking together. A pendant hung in the center, and my heart dropped.

“No,” I hissed, panic rising. “Get that away from me!”

“You’ll—”

Before he could continue, I threw my head back, hard. It cracked against his lip. He recoiled with a curse, and in the next second, my chair spun violently until I was facing him again. Blood beaded on his mouth and his eyes blazed.

“Enough!” he roared.

He drove his arm under my neck, pinning me by the collarbone while he worked the second tassel onto the chain at my waist. There was a clink as it locked into place. The moment it touched me, I felt my strength sputter, then vanish. I went slack.

Gadriel stepped back, breathing hard. He pulled another object from his pocket, something thin and sharp, like a metal pick, and used it to adjust the tassel. Another small click. He gave it a quick tug, checking the link, then finally let go.

“You will obey, Odessa.” Gadriel’s breaths were ragged.

“I tried restraint. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, even when I knew better. A mistake, clearly. Your defiance has left me no choice. You’ve chosen rebellion over reason.

If you will not learn through guidance, you will learn through force.

And when you suffer the consequences, remember that it was your actions that forced my hand. This is your doing.”

The weight of the two pendants at my hip was crushing. I could barely breathe, barely keep my vision steady.

Gadriel stepped forward with a length of silk and pulled me back into the chair, straightening my torso.

He wound the silk around my chest and the backrest, securing it tight to hold me upright.

I sat there, trapped and restrained, as he pulled the fabric tighter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his face.

There was nothing in it but insanity. His eyes gleamed with a kind of mad ambition.

Gadriel was gone; whatever piece of him I’d once known had long since slipped away.

Once the silk was fastened to his liking, he stepped behind me and gripped the chair.

It tipped as he dragged me across the room, groaning against the floor with a dull, grating sound, until he spun it sharply to face the window.

He reached for the curtain and yanked it back with a violent pull, fastening it open.

Sunlight poured in. I squinted hard as the brightness pierced through my headache, but I forced myself to look.

From here, I could see the castle grounds.

A massive crowd stretched beyond the courtyard.

Thousands of cityfolk were packed shoulder to shoulder, facing a raised platform beneath the tower.

Knights stood in tight formation. Archers were stationed high on the battlements.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing, not fully.

My thoughts couldn’t hold shape. The pressure of the pendants dragged at me, Gadriel’s voice echoed in my head, and the image of my mother and Mag being pulled away in chains hadn’t stopped replaying.

Everything blurred. Everything hurt.

Gadriel reached for the window casement, loosened the latch, and swung it open. The iron brace clicked into place with a sharp snap. With the window ajar, the sounds from outside began to seep in. The low, restless murmur of the crowd. The hum of thousands waiting.

“It’s time,” Gadriel said calmly. “I want you to see what comes next, Odessa.”

He eased my chair closer to the opening, positioning me like part of a stage, then moved to stand beside me, eyes fixed on the scene below.

“They’re waiting.” His voice was reverent. “Waiting for their future king.”