Chapter 44
The shock of freezing water stole the breath from my lungs, wrenching me from the void of unconsciousness. A violent shudder rippled through me as the icy droplets seeped into my very bones. I gasped, my mind sluggish as I fought to orient myself. My head hung forward before I forced it upright, only to find myself bound.
My arms were stretched wide, secured by iron restraints to the outstretched limbs of a metal cross. The steel was unbearably cold, pressing through the tattered remains of my gown, leeching what little warmth I had left. My body trembled.
I willed my vision to focus, blinking away the water clinging to my lashes, and as the room swam into view, my breath hitched.
The chamber was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the damp stone walls, their surfaces lined with horrors. Blades of varying sizes glinted in the flickering torchlight, their edges honed to cruel precision. Chains hung from rusted hooks. Whips of leather and metal coiled like serpents. And among them, devices of unknown purpose loomed. A cold shiver slithered down my spine.
Before me stood a man of formidable stature. Broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, his presence alone was suffocating. His face was carved with deep lines, his skin weathered from years of service. A scar ran from the corner of his lip to his jaw, as though his very flesh had once been torn open by violence. Though age had grayed the edges of his hair, there was nothing softened by time in his expression.
"I am Captain Gonestone," he declared with authority. "You are in the interrogation chamber. You will answer my questions with truth and without delay. Do you understand?"
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, the sensation akin to swallowing crushed glass. My voice barely made it past my lips. "Yes, sir."
His dark eyes narrowed, assessing me. "Do you admit to engaging in illegal slave trading within the duchy of Ivoryspire?"
"I did not," I whispered, the tremor in my voice betraying the sheer terror creeping into my bones.
"Do not lie to me."
"I-" my words faltered, my mind clouded by fear and exhaustion. "Please, where is Cecilia? Is she safe?" Her name passed my lips like a prayer, my desperation laid bare, my heart clenching at the mere thought of what they might be doing to her.
Captain Gonestone's expression remained void of sympathy. He turned toward the wall where an assortment of instruments hung in patient silence. His fingers trailed over their sharpened edges before settling upon a coiled whip of braided leather. He lifted it and returned to me.
"I asked you a question. Answer."
"I speak the truth!" My body trembled violently against the restraints, my wrists raw from the iron shackles. "This is a mistake! Please, let me speak to Her Grace!"
The only answer I received was the sharp, merciless crack of the whip slicing through the air before searing across my abdomen, my corset doing little to cushion the blow. A white-hot explosion of pain ripped through me, forcing a strangled scream from my lips. My body recoiled involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to flee. My head fell forward, my breath shallow. Tears blurred my vision as the burning sensation radiated outward, setting every nerve alight with torment.
"You expect me to believe that?" Gonestone's voice sliced through my haze of suffering. He stepped closer. "Then perhaps you can explain why your name appears on an official document, listing the ownership of one hundred slaves?"
The world spun violently. I lifted my head, my mind grasping at sense, at reason, but all I found was a gaping void where logic should have been. "I-what?" The words were barely a breath. "I do not… I swear to you, I know nothing of this."
A brutal slap landed on my left cheek. My head snapped to the side, my skull ringing from the force of the blow. A sharp sting bloomed across my skin, burning, raw, the imprint of his calloused hand searing into my flesh.
"I will ask you once more," Gonestone intoned, a thread of impatience lacing his otherwise measured voice. "Do you admit to engaging in illegal slave trading in Ivoryspire?"
My breath came in uneven gasps, each inhale a battle against the searing pain wracking my body. My limbs trembled with exhaustion, my resolve splintering. Sweat and tears mingled, trailing down my dirt-streaked face, my very soul teetering on the precipice of defeat. My shattered voice escaped my lips.
"Yes, sir," I choked out, the admission like poison upon my tongue.
"Where are you hiding the slaves, Lady Florence?"
Panic surged through me. My mind reeled, grasping at answers that did not exist. I knew nothing. I had no locations to confess.
"I… I do not know," I stammered. "Please, I swear to you, I do not know."
The whip lashed through the air, its terrible crack reverberating against the stone walls before it sliced into my left knee. A wretched, piercing agony tore through me, my already fragile leg buckling beneath the force of the blow. A raw scream ripped from my throat, echoing through the chamber.
Tears streamed in torrents, my sobs convulsing through my battered frame. The pain consumed every fiber of my being. My knee, my cursed, crippled knee, throbbed with unbearable torment, the wound carved anew with cruelty.
Gasping through the anguish, I clung to whatever sliver of voice remained. "Please," I sobbed. "I swear, I do not know."
"Would you like to reconsider, Lady Florence? Or shall I remind you once more what defiance earns in this room?"
A tremor ran through me. "They… they are at my father's estate." A lie. What other choice remained to me? I could endure no more.
"At the Lorynthall estate?"
I nodded weakly, my sobs still shaking through me. "Yes… yes, please… that is where they are."
His silence was deafening, a moment stretched into eternity before he spoke again.
"How many illicit slave networks do you oversee within Ivoryspire?"
The question barely registered before the darkness came, swift and merciful, pulling me under before I could muster another breath.