MARKS - Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 The mark on my right arm is the same color as the three on my left. Same dull black standing stark against my pale skin. My veins crisscross underneath, a woven blanket of blue-green for the black mark to rest against.

I stare at the mark. I’ve saved someone. The thing I’ve wanted all my life, the mark I’ve craved, and now I wish I could scrub it off my body because of what it means. Who was the man I saved? Muffled noises came from the cell and the hallway once it was done, but I have no idea if the man is still in there. Was he a prisoner? Or just some innocent man walking the streets of Dracon at the wrong time, plucked from his daily life to use as fodder for the King’s games?

He could be anyone.

Does it matter who he is?

I stare at the stack of paper left for me, and the pen resting on top of it. Kindling for a fire I could create that couldn’t be destroyed.

What now? The contraption? Another beating? Oh heavens, I can’t handle seeing the look of horror in Ward’s eyes if he’s sent to hurt me again. Not that. Anything but that.

I peer up at the new guard who stands in my cell. Kent, Black called him. Evidently Black has grown annoyed playing nanny to me, because Kent has been here quite a bit. He’s older. Thirties maybe? Light brown hair, the color of robin’s wings. I wonder if he knows Ward.

He stands with his back to the hallway, facing me. Watching me. Waiting to see if I write something. Ready to snatch the paper if I start to write the wrong thing. Poor man must be bored to tears, because I haven’t picked up the pen. Though good heavens, have I been thinking of words. So many words.

King Dracon’s castle will catch on fire.

Ward will come and get me out.

Ward and I’ll have five children.

The Chancellor’s clothes will all turn pink.

A million things I’d love to write, am dying to write, but I can’t let the words out. I could give the King what he wants, but heap who knows how much destruction on everyone else while doing it. And who knows what could come about to make my words come true? It seems all I do is hurt people.

I could write, and it would hurt people. I could not write, and they’ll hurt me.

Two Kingdoms, Gretta. Your life is not worth what two Kingdoms of people are.

Words build inside me, a million things I’ve never said and need out of me. A growl springs forth from me before I even realize it, a scream of everything pent up. It echoes off the rock walls. Kent’s hand goes to the sword at his side.

“Just letting it out, Kent. So that I won’t scream later when they do whatever they are going to do.”

I stare at Kent, at his eyes - are they green? I can’t even tell. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He sees me staring and averts his eyes.

Poor man. He’s done this before. Seen something he wished he hadn’t. Well, Kent my friend, you are going to see more. So am I. Because we cannot stop him.

Footsteps echo down the hall. I stare at the papers. I’ll not write anything. Kent’s body blocks my view, so I crawl on my knees as far as I can to the cell door. Black walks in front, staring at me as he passes. Behind him are two guards. Neither are Ward.

But oh Saints - Mera.

She walks between them. I scramble to my knees and push my face to the bars. She was supposed to leave. Why didn’t she leave?

Her greying hair has pulled from its bun at the nape of her neck, and the wrinkles in her face seem deeper. Her eyes latch on to mine. She dips her head, an affirmation.

Of what?

They parade her in front of me, like a lamb led to slaughter. Tears rush to my eyes, and I lean my forehead on the iron bars of my cell. They shove Mera into the same place they brought the man yesterday. A moment of silence - agonizing and weighted with horror to come - hangs, and then it starts.

The sound of fists on flesh swirls nausea to life inside my stomach. What are they doing to Mera? I pull my chains as far as they go, pain flaring to life on my wrists. I want it to hurt. I want the physical pain to help what hurts inside me, to take away what I can’t get rid of. My sobs are loud, but still I hear her screaming.

Words flash as my mind struggles to pull words together that can end this madness. Something I can use against them. But the words won’t fall in the right places.

Her screams are sad, resigned, and I know she wants me to let her die. But the weight of that burden presses against my throat. I gasp but air won’t get into my lungs. The papers and pen stand within arm’s reach, shining like a beacon. My knees shake as I crawl to them and take the pen in my hand. Kent takes a step closer. I make a list in my head of people they may know about. Ashtin they cannot have. Ward they don’t know about. The others are safe.

Safe.

I have no one left to save.

I write Mera’s sentence and sign my name. Kent says something and it stops. An eerie silence follows, and I stare not at my words, but the black mark on my right arm that springs to the surface right beside the other one.