The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 17

It was dark and empty in the room in which Ana had been abandoned. It was a room she had never seen before, a room she didn't know existed in the palace. A room hidden in the walls of the king's chambers. There were no windows, no furniture, no decorations of any kind. It was just stone walls and stone floors. She'd been locked inside with only her fears and worries for company.

When the door finally opened, she wasn't sure how long she'd been waiting. Long enough for her dried tears to have made itchy track marks on her cheeks and her screams for help to die on her lips.

Favian entered with bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and stained clothes. He did not look like a king anymore. He looked terrifying, made even more so by the horrid screeching of a chair's legs as he dragged it into the barren room.

Ana quickly pushed herself up to her feet. "Favian, please, allow me to explain—"

"Do not talk." His voice was very soft and controlled, almost calm. Like this was a regular conversation, like Ana wasn't being held against her will. He stopped the chair in the middle of the room and sat down, letting out a deep sigh like he'd just come back from a particularly difficult day at work.

And he...just sat there. Staring at Ana with those red-veined eyes. A pleasant smile on his face. It was more disturbing than any vile thing he might have shouted. It was like looking into the face of disease, of madness.

When he appeared comfortable enough, Ana licked her lips and cleared her throat. "Your Majesty—"

"I said, do not talk!" he shrieked. He yelled the words with so much gusto that he nearly came off the chair and the muscles bulged in his neck.

Ana's ears rung as his voice ricocheted off the walls and she cringed. She covered her ears and stared at the stranger before her, heart in her throat, adrenaline surging.

Favian collected himself, smoothing his filthy clothes. "You will not speak unless I explicitly ask you to. Am I understood?"

Ana blinked quickly. Was she meant to—

He screamed again, "Am I understood?"

"Yes, yes," she answered hurriedly, bowing her head away from the assault on her ears. "Yes, Your Majesty."

His lips turned up again. "Good." He settled into his chair and stared.

Ana gazed back at him, confusion coloring her face. She wished he'd just yell at her, punish her, get over with the suspense of it. She hated the anxiety filling her, loathed the discomfort that came with his probing eyes, despised not knowing what was happening to Ulric. She wanted Favian to just come out and tell her what was going to happen.

But he didn't. He simply stared at her, watched her. That eerie grin on his face, his eyes watering from refusing to blink.

Ana had feared her husband many times throughout their marriage. She'd known his threats to be real, known the pain that would come with any outstep. But the fear she felt as she stared into his dead eyes was more than any she'd ever experienced in her entire life.

***

Brom, Carac, Peronell, and Thea stood outside the tunnel as the sun started to go down. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say Brom, Carac, and Peronell stood while Thea paced impatiently.

While they'd waited for their wounded friends to improve, the four of them had turned Merek's kill into three coats. Between the four of them, they managed to wrangle and kill a small bear, so they had enough furs for the entire group.

Yet there they were, stuck in the same place they'd been for about a week.

"Thea, why don't you sit down," Carac said. "I can grab some of that ale Merek had—"