Nada's Escape

24- Bookworm.

The tall bald teacher is tied up, they say. What the wardens don't mention is the pointless nature of educating girls bound for termination. That's what I think today is really about. Supervised downtime they call it, wasting time in the schoolroom because it's too hot outside and the floors have already been scrubbed. Other girls pull boxes of pencils and paper from the shelves but I know what I want.

I lean nonchalantly against the teacher's desk, tying to look bored whilst my fingers slide the drawer open and extract its contents. Before I even look down my fingers slide over the spine, embossed textures soothing me. The storybook with the illustration of the dying, cursed woman that matches the tale of poetic justice that baldy had told. The hardback cover is gorgeous, in a nerdy way. The scrawling font, so very Huntsmen, simply says: Tales. I fan the pages as I open it, relishing the feeling and the smell of dry paper that seems to sigh its own name. Book.

My fingers freeze as I sense movement at the door. In my peripheral vision I catch sight of another warden entering the school room; Mildrith. I open the book fully to a random page and pretend to read until her shadow falls across the page.

"You have a visitor," she says, folding her arms. Not Finley, I think, no I know he's not coming today. Just a "visitor". I weigh up my options. Do I fight now or do wait to see who it is? What if it's one of Finley's allies? I decide to take it both ways.

"Can I take my book?" I ask, clutching the newfound book and clearly claiming possession of it. "I only just started on it and I always get interrupted during my lessons." I school my voice to whining disappointment. As if I actually cared about the Huntsmen's tutelage in lies.

"Fine," Mildrith replies with typical warden laconism. So I follow her from the school room holding tight to the weapon in my hands.

Past the swish of the sliding door the Huntsmen leader sits, arms resting on a table. What does he want? He frowns at my chest.

"What is this?" He points at my book in clear discontent. I glare at him and hold it closer. I might need it. I notice he's brought a burly warden with him, who's standing against the wall trying to look invisible.

"I'll take that Nada." Mildrith says, as kindly as if I were a worm. My hackles are raised; this meeting is a clear trap. I give up the book but refuse to move past the threshold. To my surprise Mildrith only lays it out of reach on the closest table. The door swishes to a close as I lean against the corner of wall beside it. Even so the burly warden and the Huntsmen leader have placed themselves at ends of the room so it is impossible to keep them both in view.

"I see no reason why I should have to be here," I protest. The leader sets a heavy glare on me, like the one that had silenced the congregation. I raise my eyebrows in contempt.

"I've got a book to get back to." I quip. I do like the excuse this book is giving me to be boisterous. My comment makes him jump from his seat.

"I have not asked you to speak, child," he admonishes, saying child like anyone else might say monster. He strides towards me and I am ready to pull the rip cord. I jump sideways in front of the sensor for the door. But nothing happens. I wave my hand above my head like an idiot but still nothing changes.

"I just want you to look at me," he pronounces. I keep him in my view but avoid the deadly eyes. Damn it, I can't retreat any further and I sincerely doubt I can talk my way out of this. My best bet is that book; a distraction and a weapon. I edge towards the table upon which my book rests, trying to make them angry and stupid.

"Why? I'm beginning to think I can't be enthralled." I snark. The leader doesn't let me retreat, grabbing my chin with that deadly quickness that only some of the Huntsmen display. He forces my face to tilt backwards. I can't possibly close my eyes so I punch out. He catches my fist. I struggle for release, bucking and kicking. I pull and shove on my caught arm and chin but it is of little use, especially when rough arms come around me from behind.

I am pinned. My struggling causes the arms to bristle around me but they do not loosen, only dig deeper into my flesh. The leader grips my chin so tight I can feel the slivers of his fingernails and my pulse beating against them. And so finally he catches my eye. His eyes flicker in concentration, grey- green irises expanding and contracting, but I feel only a slight pressure behind my eyes. No ice assails me. I gather spit in my mouth, glaring out at the hateful older face. He breaks his hold on me before I can let loose, shaking his head.

"Why can't you be enthralled?" Frustration turns his powerful voice rough. "How could you sip that lemonade without incident?" He tries to grab for my throat again but I'm ready. I use the tiny leeway I have to twist my head and bite the hand as it reaches out. In his recoil his eyes flash and he spits.

"Eldritch creature." Breathing heavily he paces away from me. "Who were your parents? Where did you live? How were you captured?" He barks the questions over his shoulder like a round from a gun. I spit at him but the fluid falls short.

"What do you care about me?" I hiss.

"Care?" He laughs with a deep rasp but ignores the question. "I should have you executed!"

I am released thanks to some unknown signal and the warden melts back towards the exterior door. The leader is already stalking out. A tactical retreat perhaps?

"Why?" I shout out. As much as I also want him gone I want answers too. "Why are you tormenting me?" Why would you try to poison me? He pulls himself tall in the doorway.

"Because my son deserves better than any half-starved eldritch rat," he hisses. His plain face is twisted into an ugly one in rage. I blink in shock. Did he say 'son'?

"Finley?" I ask, the revelation nestling strangely in my stomach. Could there be something of Finley's simple good looks upon the face of the leader?

The leader confirms my suspicion by pointing his finger at me imperiously, "I see what you've been doing to him. Bewitching him, beguiling him against his heritage." Drinking in my open-mouthed expression his face smooths into arrogance again.

"Time is ticking for you now. I think, in the end, I will win." And then he turns to go, taking the burly stranger with him.