His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 58: Lord Asarus

Four men step out of the dark dining hall, wielding butcher knives, a blacksmith hammer and a leatherworking blade. My eyes skip over their short dark hair and shaven jaws. All are Versillian, but none are Asarus. They're his hired thugs.

"Where's your lord?" I ask.

One man points in my direction and smiles to his friends. They chuckle in return. They must find a short girl demanding answers amusing.

An arrow whistles through the air, missing the man with the pointed finger by only an inch before embedding in the hall doorframe behind him.

The men still, their expressions no longer so cheerful. Giddius readies another arrow.

"Asarus!" I call again.

Heavy footsteps emanate from the hall. A tall figure steps forward from the darkness, revealing his fine leather boots, straight black pants, matching high-collar shirt, and finally, his ghostly green eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. Asarus.

"My instincts told that you would run back to your pitiful little home," Asarus says. He glances at Trevus. "Though it appears another bested my effort and captured you first."

Asarus is older than I imagined. His short brown hair is streaked gray, and his narrow face leaves his bones well defined. Even with his different appearance, his vile voice that sent me running in terror ten years ago hasn't changed.

The corner of his lips tugs up into a smile. "You have grown taller."

"You've grown weaker," I say.

His brows narrow. He looks to Trevus, who still has yet to draw his sword. "Congratulations on your prize. If you allow my party to take the girl off your hands, twenty gold coins shall be awarded to you and each of your men."

Trevus's face is stone, his glare not leaving Asarus. This is the man who recruited Mehlia, drawing her into the mission that led to her death, and then fled the country.

Asarus raises an eyebrow, surprised that his offer is met with nothing but a hostile look.

Giddius's bow strains as he draws it again. He aims it at Asarus's chest, who now appears considerably less comfortable.

I shake my head at Giddius. "No more death."

Giddius lowers his bow, but keeps the arrow nocked.

Asarus's mouth briefly opens before hiding his surprise - Giddius followed my instruction. They aren't my captors. They're my allies. "You are more resourceful than I imagined," he says.

I've waited long enough. "You owe me answers, Asarus. I was a child when you came after me."

"My dear Jadia, you know well the purpose of your capture," he says. That's not my name, but he probably doesn't care. "I prepared a room in Antiock's castle tower for your dwelling, a place that I hear with which you became well acquainted."

The thousands of nights I spent isolated, the humiliation of being treated less than human, and the regular abuse from soldiers, is all dismissed as if it was nothing. My fists curl so tight they shake. If he were to experience just a year of my life in that tower, he wouldn't speak about it so shamelessly.

"You should have been an obedient girl and stayed there, for the good of all men. While you may detest your confinement, 'tis necessary. I cannot rest while you roam the land. From here on, you shall remain in a new tower in Ceramaya which I have already procured."

"No." My fists relax. "Your power over me is long gone. Nothing that happens is your decision anymore."

Asarus motions to the goons at his side. "Seize her. Eliminate whoever stands in your way."