Shadows Return

swept out of the cell, leaving Seregil to curl up in a ball in the darkness, hands clenched protectively between his thighs.
    Gelded?
Panic cut through the pain and lingering effects of the drugging, and an hysterical little laugh escaped his lips.
Poor bastard. No wonder you’re so bitter.
Slavery was bad enough, and the abuse, but to have your manhood taken, too?
And now he’s planning the same for me.
He knew it was no idle threat.
    He was cold, and still too numb to get himself under the covers. His feet burned and felt like they might be bleeding. With a little flailing and grabbing, he managed to pull a corner of the quilt over his chest and looked for comfort in Alec’s fading scent on the fabric.
What would you do, talí, if they did do that to me?
The thought was sickening, but even so, he knew in his heart that Alec would never turn his back on him, any more than he would if Alec had suffered the same plight. Not that it made the thought of having his own favorite parts cut off any less horrifying.
    But even that fear paled in comparison to the sight of Alec hanging in that cellar. Regardless of the alchemist’s reassurances, it looked like they were slowly bleeding him to death.
    Sleep wouldn’t come, and so he had no defense from his own wandering thoughts.
    If it weren’t for you, Haba, I’d never have known he existed.
    Remorse overwhelmed him again, closing a fist around his heart. It was true. He’d put Alec on the road to that cage the night he’d found him in that northern dungeon. Seregil had always claimed not to believe in fate, but now he wasn’t so certain. And if that had been fate, then what of the rest of his life?
    Ilar said I wasn’t meant to kill that Hamani. And if I hadn’t?
He lay there a long time, cold and sad and aching, pondering the question in a way he hadn’t before. The Haman had drawn steel first. If he’d only shouted, or grabbed for him, would the boy Seregil had been then still have drawn a weapon? Ilar called him a monster, blaming Seregil for all that had happened to him since, whatever that had been.
    Just like I do him.
    He quickly quashed that thought. They were nothing alike!
    It’s not my fault! If he hadn’t seduced me in the first place—
    Then what?
he wondered for the first time. Would he ever have known Nysander, or Micum? Or Alec? He thought of all that had befallen his friends, for having known him. The chains of fate, or plain ill luck, hung heavy on him.
    They’d all have been better off without me.
The thought slipped insidiously across his mind before he could crush it.
    “Stop your damn whining!” he muttered angrily. There was only one thing he could afford to dwell on right now, and that was how to get out of this cell and get Alec away from that madman.
    And kill Ilar,
he amended with a dark, crooked grin.
I’ll show him what a monster really is!

CHAPTER 25
    Rhekaro

    “ALEC? ALEC, OPEN your eyes.”
    Khenir?
    Awareness returned slowly. Gradually, and in no particular order, Alec realized that he was no longer hanging facedown, that the center of his chest hurt like a bitch, that he was warm, and that he was very hungry and thirsty.
    The sour, earthy smell was still all around him, but so was the unexpected aroma of cooked meat. He forced his eyes open and found that he was wrapped in warm blankets and propped in a corner of the cellar. Khenir knelt beside him, holding a mug to Alec’s lips.
    Alec drank, and nearly wept with relief as the rich salty taste of mutton broth flooded his mouth. He gulped frantically, dribbling down his chin, until Khenir pulled the cup away.
    “Slowly now. There’s no need to make a mess.”
    “More!” Alec rasped, and was amazed at the effort it took to speak.
    Khenir let him drink again, and the warmth spread through Alec’s belly and limbs. He slipped a hand under the blanket to where his chest hurt and found a small scab there, between two of his ribs, right next to his breastbone.
    Memory flooded back—Yhakobin approaching with the golden tap and the hammer. Alec clenched a hand in the blankets, shuddering, but grateful to be lying here now, even in this cellar. Anything was better than hanging in that cage.
    “How long?”
    “Four days,” Khenir replied. “Ilban is very pleased with you.”
    “Indeed I am,” Yhakobin said, coming down the stairs with a larger lamp. Duke Theris was with him. Ahmol and one of Alec’s warders followed, carrying small spades.
    As they approached, the