Page 44 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Forty-Four

SILAS

R oland, Hendry, and Edmund did just as I asked, throwing Dimitri down into the same shit and piss-filled cage we had been kept in.

“Bonnevau, Aubeze, string Dimitri up to the rack.”

They did so swiftly, and my chest hummed with excitement.

I glanced over at my blond friend. Edmund was trained to hide any emotion on his face, but I knew he couldn't stomach torture.

“Go. Check on Elowen,” I said to him gently. I then whispered something into his ear.

He blinked, bowing. “Thank you, Your Highness. And yes, of course.”

My eyes flicked to Roland as Edmund retreated, his hazel eyes looking to me for orders. “Aubeze, cut off a finger. Any finger.”

He nodded, then gave Dimitri a smug grin before approaching .

“No! No, no, no—” Dimitri let out a sickening cry as Roland used his dagger to cut off the King's middle finger.

Roland dangled it in front of Dimitri, who was sobbing. “Who would've guessed you'd cry like such a pussy,” Roland laughed.

I stepped forward, watching in wonder as the blood poured out of his hand. “You think you could harm me and get away with it?”

My hands twitched. I wanted to torture him myself, but I knew that Hendry desired the same.

My friend was quiet, but within him, just like myself, demons were locked inside.

He had always been the private sort, never wishing to talk about himself. But I could see that glimmer in his eyes. Could see that something haunted him.

When we were teens, I'd try to pry the information out of him, gently, of course, so as not to cause him to withdraw into himself. I never got any answers. Only once I endured what I did, once I changed myself, did I recognize the monsters that lay behind a seemingly composed front. I recognized the shadows in his eyes because I saw them in my own every time I looked in the mirror.

I didn't wish for anyone to pry me, so I stopped doing the same to Hendry.

He enjoyed killing; that much was obvious. I could see his excitement, even if his mouth remained in that straight line.

Sometimes, your demons hold so much power over you that you have to unleash them every now and again. To keep them from taking over completely.

My eyes slid to my friend's mismatched ones, his pupils blown wide in anticipation. I gestured toward Dimitri. “He still has nine more fingers. Do keep one of his thumbs. I want him alive. ”

A small smile crept along Hendry's slim lips, and he stepped toward Dimitri, whose breathing became increasingly labored as Hendry's long legs stalked toward him.

His eyes studied his shirtless body, analyzing the best place for him to play.

Hendry decided, and Roland and I watched as he sawed Dimitri's nipples off.

Roland winced as Dimitri screeched. “Damn, Hendry, that's cold.”

Hendry balanced one on his blade. His eyes flickered up to Dimitri, his voice emotionless as he said, “I'd force-feed you this, but I'd rather not deal with your vomit.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I'd rather not as well.” My eyes drifted to the various buckets the Mages were forced to defecate in. Hendry's and my eyes met at the same time.

Roland grimaced. “You guys are going to make me throw up.”

“It's deserved, is it not?” Hendry asked.

Dimitri's panicked gaze was flickering between us three.

Roland shot Hendry a half grin. “Oh, very much deserved, my friend. So, what, shit ball throwing contest?” His eyes fell to the cart of tools. Three pairs of gloves rested on top.

Hendry snickered. “You're sick, Aubeze.”

It was sadistic, twisted, and thoroughly disgusting whipping shit at Dimitri, but I have to say, I have never laughed so hard in my life. The King of Faltrun bellowed with rage with each hit to his body. Hendry threw one handful that splattered over Dimitri's face, and Hendry gagged so hard that Roland fell to his knees laughing, me with him. My stomach ached from flexing muscles I hadn't used in that way in years.

“This is fucked,” Roland breathed, catching his breath from chuckling so hard.

This was nothing compared to what we had in store for him. But considering he forced hundreds of innocents to live in their own filth, it felt justified throwing shit at him.

I carefully removed the soiled gloves, wincing and trying not to gag myself. I couldn't wait to bathe tonight.

I grasped a blade.

“Time to get some answers.” My gaze flicked up. “A year ago, when my father secretly struck a deal with you, you had already seen an Undead?”

Dimitri's nostrils flared. As much as he hated to comply, he knew that doing so would inflict the least amount of pain.

Or so he thought.

“We'd never seen one before,” he answered, his voice gravelly, “until Ulric himself brought one to us. It was rabid, feral, and it was only detained because of the cuffs.”

To that, my eyes shot wide, meeting Hendry and Roland's equally surprised stare.

We only first learned about the Undead a half-year ago, around the same time the magic-erasing cuffs started rolling out. Yet according to Dimitri, not only did my father have this contraption beforehand, but he was also aware of the Undead. Felt confident enough to have one detained.

He must have had only his close circle aware of this. But why?

“The poison you'd use before the cuffs—what is it?” I continued. “Where are you getting it from?”

He refrained from answering, and when I advanced toward the cart of torture, he shouted, “Okay, okay!”

I slowly turned to him, cocking a brow, awaiting an answer.

His lip curled. “Cortinarius violaceus. Purple shrooms…we grow them here.”

“That seems too simple,” Roland replied, arms crossed.

“That's because Daranois supplies the substance. We only provide the shrooms.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Daranois?" Hendry stepped forward. “Why do they come to you for these mushrooms?”

Dimitri's face was crumpled in pain, his nipples, or lack thereof, surely stinging. “Our soil is good for growing. Daranois…they do something to the shrooms. Turn them into some sort of powder. We call it…siaxcide.”

I exchanged glances with my friends. We all knew that Daranois grew plenty on their own…there was a reason their parties lasted for days. They were drug central.

Were they really sourcing this mushroom due to the soil?

“So, Daranois is the one who provides you with siaxcide. Yet somehow, you used this substance almost two decades ago. Otacia would've known if this was going on. A deal between Faltrun and Daranois.”

Dimitri choked on a laugh, his head resting back on the rack. “Otacia's witch hunt has blinded them from the dealings in the shadows.”

“Their army uses the powder now,” I said calmly. “Which means they must know of your involvement.”

Dimitri's eyes were slowly shutting.

“Crank it, Hendry.”

“NO!” Dimitri screamed. “Wait—wait!” His eyes blinked rapidly as Hendry's hand rested on the handle. “I didn't know the Otacians were aware of the siaxcide. It must be a newer deal.”

After seeing what that dust did in Forsmont, I knew we needed to eradicate its production. “Where are you growing them?”

He swallowed. “Free me, and I'll tell you.”

I chuckled loudly. “I am my father's son, Dimitri. You know there is no chance of you making it out of here alive.” I tilted my head. “The decision of a quick death, or a long, torturous one, is yours.”

He glowered viciously. “Bring on the torture,” he spat. “Faltrun's economy will tank without the shrooms.”

I puckered my lips, nodding slowly as I grasped a pair of shears from the cart. “Very noble, Cortev. It almost sounds like you give a shit about this place.” I took delight in seeing the fear in his eyes and thoroughly enjoyed his screams as I snipped the webbing between what remained of his fingers.

“Tell me, Cortev,” I continued, pacing around his sobbing body. “Did Ulric know you were keeping a stash of Mages in your castle?”

Snot dripped down his shit-stained face, his lip quivering. Fucking pathetic.

“N-no, the deal was I deliver any witches to him.”

I cocked my head to the side and clicked my tongue. “But you decided to keep them for yourself.”

His lip curled. “Is that what this is? You're upset I betrayed your kingdom?” He spat at my feet. “You are the biggest betrayer of Otacia.”

A grin spread across my face, and Dimitri paled as I stepped closer. He screamed as I thrust my blade into his eye socket.

“Crank it,” I ordered Hendry .

He did, turning the handle of the rack, and Dimitri wailed as his limbs began to stretch. “Please! Pleasepleaseplease don't—AHH!”

I ripped the blade free as the machine came to a halt, his eyeball coming out with it, tearing his optic nerve.

Tilting the blade, I surveyed the oozing orb. “Such a shame for these baby blues. I'm sure the ladies loved them.” My gaze slid up to his sniveling body, the blood coursing down his face. “I do not care you betrayed the kingdom. I care that you enslaved children. I care that you're a rapist.”

Despite his predicament, Dimitri laughed. “You Godsdamn hypocrite. Is that not exactly what Otacia does?! You imprison witch children, and I'm sure plenty of your soldiers have relished in the free pussy.”

I stiffened, then flung his eyeball to the ground, thrusting the blade into his thigh. He cried.

“We do not keep them in filth,” I spat. “We do not shave their heads, make them piss in buckets, or force them to do labor.” I withdrew the blade, red spurting out. “And I do not tolerate rape, you fucking pig.”

“Oh, aren't you a hero?” He let out a low, breathless laugh. “I think you are struggling to accept what you really are, Silas La'Rune. A monster.”

I tilted my head. “That's where you're wrong, Cortev.” I gave a sadistic smile. “I know exactly what kind of monster I am.”

I wanted to turn the crank. Wanted to watch his limbs rip from his body.

But I had other plans .

As if on cue, in walked twenty-seven women, all with long, flowy hair. All except for Torrin's mother, whose fists shook as she stared up at the strung-up man.

The women he violated.

I had Edmund go to each with an offer of revenge. Every single one came.

They were still weakened, I imagined, but they all stepped forward. My smile slipped when I saw Lena walk in behind them.

Her widened eyes took in the sight before her: Dimitri tied up to the rack, covered in shit and blood. Missing fingers. Missing nipples. A missing eye. And soiled pants.

I supposed it gave a visual of what I had done to Rurik and the others.

I waited for the judgment on her face. Waited for her to look at me in disgust. She did no such thing.

The women all still wore their cuffs.

Deana cried as she beheld me, surprised that I was still alive despite it all.

“The fire will overcome you like nothing you've ever felt before,” Lena said calmly, addressing the women. “It can consume you just as easily as your surroundings. Focus it. Hone it. And when you feel it becoming too much, tell yourself to calm the flames . Picture your newfound freedom. Picture all the good that is to come for you.”

One by one, each woman stepped forward, holding their wrists up to his remaining thumb.

Deana was the first woman to be released from the device. She began shaking as the metal clattered against the ground, her skin turning red.

“You got this, Deana. Calm the flames. ”

She inhaled and exhaled, squeezing her eyelids tight. She pursed her lips, her breathing wobbly, her skin reddening. When her eyes finally opened, staring at the face of her abuser, she ignited.

The flame crept around her, a beautiful, devastating flame.

Dimitri shuddered, and Deana lifted her chin, tilting her fingers and sending a ring of fire around his throat. He cried out as his skin began to sizzle.

“If there weren't others who also deserved to tear you apart, I would squeeze this ring so tightly your throat would split open.” She constricted her fingers, and the King shrieked as it melted his skin.

As I watched in awe, I realized I no longer feared fire. I respected it.

Deana flung her fingers out, and the ring around him vanished, the skin raw and bloody. She stepped aside, allowing the next woman her turn.

Deana's dark gaze found mine, and she walked up to me.

“I owe you, Silas La'Rune,” she praised, kneeling before me.

I paused, then gently touched her shoulder. Her brown eyes flicked upward

“Do not kneel before me,” I insisted, grasping her hands and helping her to her feet. “Kneel before nobody ever again.”

Deana's lips wobbled, and she smiled at me, standing upright.

“I have heard many awful things about you, Prince of Otacia,” she whispered. “But it would be an honor to serve you one day.” She smiled. “Perhaps someday, your kingdom may be my home.”

Her comment warmed me. “If that is your wish, then it shall be granted. ”

Her cheeks flushed, her smile growing before she turned, watching the next woman come into her power.

I marveled at it—envied their ability to release their rage in such a way. I watched the firelight dance in each of the women's eyes before Torrin's mother gave the final kill shot, Dimitri's head finally slumping down.

Now, it was time to learn what the council knew.

After disposing of another set of gloves a few hours later, I made my way out of the dungeon, ready to take the hottest, longest shower of my life. Roland and Hendry had already left to do so, and the women, along with the rest of the Mages, were choosing their rooms within this castle.

After torturing whatever information the members had, which unfortunately wasn't much, I knew I needed to stop at Saoirse's gravesite before I turned in.

The graveyard was quiet as I stood before the pile of dirt, tears streaming down my face as I pictured her six feet under. A fresh bouquet of roses was placed below a wooden sign that read SAOIRSE .

We didn't even know her last name.

I never thought I would let myself cry after what happened to me all those years ago, but nothing was more tragic than this.

My life was filled with so much death and so much loss. Everything I touched found ruin as if I was cursed.

I detected a figure walking up, stopping to stand beside me, copper waves blowing with the evening wind. The sun was just beginning to lower in the sky.

Lena held out her hand to me, and when I turned my head to her, I saw that she was holding Boots.

My face contorted in rage. “Why would you take her doll?!” The thought of Saoirse alone in the dirt without the one thing that brought her comfort had me shaking.

“Because we can never forget,” she cried softly, still holding the doll out for me. “Because she should be remembered. Now, and always.”

My lip trembled, my eyes slowly blinking as I beheld the doll. I finally lifted my hand, taking the doll from her.

Part of me wanted to do something reckless. Rip it out of anger, toss it as if I didn't care.

But I eventually nodded, eyes welling with tears as I took in the sight of her grave.

If you show any emotion, it will happen again.

As if reading my mind, hearing words that still plagued me, Lena whispered, “It is not a weakness to show emotion, Silas.”

My eyes sealed, and I released a frustrated sigh as my head fell forward. It was only a few moments of us standing in silence before I moved my feet, needing to be alone.

She really had no idea what had transpired to make me the way that I was.

Nor would she ever.