The Sanctuary

CHAPTER SIX

He stared at his food with a look of such puzzlement, I would’ve been amused if he wasn’t the enemy. Must be used to food of rich folks, I thought bitterly but then a strange hope spread through my chest as I watched his behaviour.

He must be important, he just had to be.

The man finally shoveled a bit of the gruel into his mouth, wincing as he did so. But he methodically swallowed, and kept eating, bite after bite. He wanted to stay alive, which was a good thing. Maybe he had hope he would survive this.

I wasn’t so sure he would myself.

The man looked much more ragged than he had yesterday. The Riders had interrogated him after I left the room, none too gently it seemed like. His eye was bruised, and there were cuts along his jawline and his lips. One of his arm sleeves had been ripped when I had captured him, the cloth binding his arm from an apparent arrow wound. The leftover sleeve was now soaked with blood, apparently from wiping his cut open lip.  He looked like had been through the wringer and back. I was surprised he had escaped relatively unscathed. I was sure a Saiyaran prisoner in the Farsay Kingdom would not be so lucky.

Jonrick had told me stiffly that the prisoner had not said a word. Jonrick had looked at me with a grim look, a look that told me I was running out of time. Madame Widow was due back soon, and if they couldn’t make him talk before then….Jonrick didn’t have to spell it out for me.

 “Who are you?” I asked again, crossing my arms.

He paused, spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth. He looked up at me, a defiant look in his eye. Still nothing.

 “Are you the son of a Duke? A landowner, a General, a rich man?”  I pressed, glowering at the Farsay. I began to inch closer, and he watched my movements, cagily.

Gathering my courage, I bent down until I was eye level with him, close enough that I could touch him if I reached. He was staring at me, the same type of stare he had given me when he had attacked me with his knife. This time, instead of the shock, there was a curiosity in his deep blue eyes as he examined me almost as carefully as I was examining him.

 “You have to understand,” I said, quietly. “You are our prisoner. You may be dead in a few days or you may be alive. It really depends on what you tell us.”

Jonrick had told me I wasn’t permitted to interrogate the prisoner. I hadn’t listened.

The Farsay let out a small snort; then, as if realizing his folly, forced his expression once more into a stoic look.  I sighed.

 “You are obviously important. That I know. Who you are, what exact importance it is – that I will find out, mark my words. Your King does not keep many in the wealthy. He prefers his people to be poor and afraid…or rather, more commonly–“ I looked at him with a piercing glare. “Dead.”

He was glaring at me now, a look of unbridled fury. And then shockingly, he spit out, “And you?” His low baritone voice cracked painfully. “You Forbiddens come traipsing into our Kingdom, killing people in their sleep. For what?” He looked down at his knees, his dark black bangs covering his eyes. “You do not belong. You never did. You are a threat to the safety of my people.”

Red hot fury pooled around my chest.

I had never hated anyone more in a single second.

I grabbed his jaw, none too gently, raising his eyes to meet mine.  Surprise flitted across his expression, but he did not pull away.

I wanted him to see me, in all my Forbidden glory.

 “I’m sure you are not hard of hearing, but I want you to listen very carefully,” I said softly. My words trembled as I fought to keep calm. “You seem to have things very confused in that small brain of yours. Your King is the real murderer.” I gave him a wry smile that held no kindness. “Did your King not announce the Aberration Decree once anointed? Kill all Forbiddens at birth?”