Indenuel was sitting in the dungeon, staring out the cell window. He had gotten little rest since coming here. Being chained to the table was never comfortable. Once he was fully awake, Tolomon took off the chains and moved him to a different dungeon room with a window. They kept assuring him he wasn’t under arrest, but Indenuel was too exhausted to question anymore.
The door opened and a guard stepped down, a grim look on his face. He was mentally preparing for the High Elders. He did not expect a guard. “My deepest condolences,” the guard whispered.
Indenuel frowned, getting to his feet. Tolomon next to him let out a shuddering breath. Indenuel, confused, glanced at Tolomon before turning toward the guard. “What are you talking about?”
“I am sorry to inform you there has been an incident at Martin’s house. A mob,” the guard said, holding out a letter. Indenuel said nothing, staring at the guard who held out the letter to him.
“Is Martin dead?” Indenuel asked, trying to understand this reality. To understand how he felt about it.
The guard sighed. It sounded pained. “No, sir. It’s in the letter.”
Tolomon took the letter, opening it and reading it swiftly, tears in his eyes.
“No, no. Just-” Indenuel ran a hand through his hair. “Just tell me what happened.”
The guard shifted on the balls of his feet. “Inessa had gone to Martin’s house-”
Indenuel’s brain and heart refused to work. “No, she didn’t.”
“She went to pay him a visit-”
“She took a Graduate. Tolomon had another Graduate assigned to her.” Indenuel’s mind slowly came alive with a horrifying realization that made him want to shut it down again.
“A large mob formed outside the house-”
“Inessa had a Graduate with her!” Indenuel snapped. “She’s fine. Do you hear me! She’s fine! There was a Graduate with her! She’d never go to Martin’s house! She wouldn’t disobey me like that!”
“There were over three hundred people there, sir. The Graduate tried to contain the crowd, but they soon overpowered and killed him. Martin tried to-”
“You tell me it was Martin. Tell me it was Martin who died, damn you.”
“The crowd was too violent, and she was-”
“NO!” Indenuel shouted. “No, she wasn’t! Tell me it was Martin! She wouldn’t be at that vile man’s house! Tell me Martin is dead!”
“Indenuel,” Tolomon said, a pain in his voice.
“Martin tried to save her, but they were separated. By the time he got to her she was already-”
Indenuel moved forward to do something to the guard. Do something to get him to stop speaking lies but Tolomon was there, grabbing his waist, pulling him away from the guard. “I’m sorry,” Tolomon said, heavy with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop it!” Indenuel screamed. “I need to see her! She’s fine! She has to be fine!” Tolomon motioned the guard away, and he gave a swift bow before leaving the dungeon. “No! Where is she!”
“Don’t use your corruptive powers,” Tolomon said. “Please. She’ll want to see you in your dream tonight and-”
“Stop it!” he screamed again. “She’s not dead! She can’t be dead! That can’t have been my last time talking to her! It can’t!”
But it had. Somehow, he knew this solidified the fact the Gods were dead. He had screamed and shouted at Inessa, fought with her, never sharing a last touch except… except when she slapped him. Now she was gone. Gone before they had the opportunity to work it out. For him to tell her how much he needed her. To hold her again.
“Tonight,” Tolomon said. “As long as the corruption gets out of you, you’ll have tonight to talk with her. Please, let Dalius get it out.”
To talk. Not to touch. And with how devilish Indenuel had become, he would never touch her again. He would go to hell, no matter what Nathaniel and Tolomon thought, and she would rest in heaven. They would be separated for the rest of eternity. He would be haunted forever by how angry she was at him in their fight. In the last time he ever saw her alive.
Indenuel struggled and realized Tolomon had him expertly pinned. Pinned in a way that Indenuel could barely move his arms. No, wait, he realized. This is a hug. Tolomon had his arms wrapped around him so tightly he could barely move, but it was a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Tolomon said again. “I’m so sorry, Indenuel. This is a pain I hoped no one else would ever have to experience.”
“No,” Indenuel moaned, still pinned by Tolomon’s hug. He was reminded of Tolomon’s family, slaughtered while he remained helpless in a dungeon. “No. No.”
Indenuel closed his eyes, the pain in his soul growing. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t.
***
Martin waited at the entrance of the dungeon. It was late afternoon, and he was leaning against the wall, his mind buzzing with information he didn’t want to digest. The carriage pulled up, and Dalius, Navir, and Fadrique stepped down. Martin was aware of himself pushing off the wall to walk toward them, but he hardly recognized it was himself doing it. He walked forward with a courage he did not have and held his two hands up, looking straight at Navir.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Dalius and I will go down to see Indenuel. You and Fadrique will return to the Cathedral, and you will not come out of that building until I say,” Martin said.
Navir had the gall to smile. “What is this nonsense you’re talking about.”
“Dalius will go down there to clear Indenuel of corruption. I will be there to make sure Indenuel doesn’t kill him. Just seeing your face might make him snap and kill us all.”
Navir’s smile dropped. “What makes you think Indenuel would want to kill me?”
“Because I’m having a hard enough time not killing you myself,” Martin said, staring right at him. Navir’s eyes narrowed, but Martin kept going. “You, known for your strict command of trials, who never lets confessions travel through the trees, and yet somehow, right after our conversation about reversing the concubine law, Carmen’s confession was given in full, traveling through tree gossip.”
“You’re not a tree ta-”
“My daughter is. As is my wife. They are both writing it down as we speak to send to the King. I have a feeling it is word for word the confession we read in private, which means you let it leak.” There were tears in Martin’s eyes. “The mob formed right outside my home, because you let them know that’s where she was this morning. You’ve been tracking her. You wanted them to kill her. You practically opened the door for them and stepped aside for them to do it. And if you don’t turn around and get into that carriage right now, I will snap your neck.”
Navir stood, taking this all in. Navir glanced at Dalius, who was staring back with a slack jaw and wide, horrified eyes. Navir turned around, entering the carriage and closing the door.
“Get in the carriage, Fadrique,” Martin said, his voice threatening.
“You just have healing. You honestly think you can contain Indenuel if he wants to retaliate?” Fadrique asked.
“I can do that a lot better if you’re not in the same room with him.” Martin pointed toward the carriage. “Go. Get back to the Cathedral.”
Fadrique glared, but turned around and joined Navir. Martin watched the carriage ride off, and he hoped they would listen to him, but he had to be cautious all the same. He needed Fadrique out of his house in order for the militia to get more details about Carmen’s supposed suicide, and it would be a lot better if he wasn’t there.
Dalius approached Martin, watching the carriage ride by. “Martin are… you certain you want to come down with me?”
Martin didn’t dare look at Dalius. “For your protection, yes.”
“I more meant…” Dalius trailed off, tearing his gaze from the carriage to look at the dungeon entrance. “I thought you’d still be home. Recovering from… this morning. You—you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this. You need to take care of yourself, too.”
Back home. Back to that house. Where a despicable crime happened in a cellar he never used? Martin shook his head, seeing the carriage heading for the street that led to the Cathedral. “I can’t go back there right now.” Martin turned around, his hands behind his back as he walked toward the dungeon door.
Dalius caught up. “Look, I’m… sorry. I realize now who she is to you, what she meant, and I didn’t… I’m sorry. This entire thing has me nauseous. I…” Martin slowed his step, glancing at Dalius. The man stopped, rubbing his face. “I’m the one that brought her on as my concubine. I was the first. I was… overeager to have her, and I feel responsible, in a way. If there’s anything I can do to make it right…”
“Change the law with me,” Martin said. “Stop listening to Navir. You know the kind of man he is now. Become my ally, not his. Fight for me, not against me. The two of us against the two of them. This ends now.”
Dalius rubbed his arm, and he saw it. The belief that this was it. Dalius was going to fight Navir with him, but then something flickered across Dalius’ eyes, and Martin knew that fear too well. Dalius was recollecting all the secrets Navir knew about him. All the devilish deeds, and he was seriously wondering if he had the mental strength to go up against such a foe. “At least think about it,” Martin said as he kept walking toward the dungeon door. It was the best he could do. Navir, after all, had a strong hold on the city. “Only speak the words of the ceremony. I don’t know what state he’s in. Clear the corruption thoroughly, but fast,” Martin said.
“I will,” Dalius said.
The silence stretched between them. Martin didn’t have much else to say, as he was still processing his own grief. He had been there, blocking the mob. He alone, and it wasn’t enough. He thought being a High Elder meant a mob wouldn’t dare commit a crime in his own house. But he assumed wrong.
They walked into Indenuel’s dungeon cell. He and Tolomon were sitting on the floor together, Tolomon trying to say some words of comfort as Indenuel had his head buried in his arms. The boy made no indication he even noticed them enter. Dalius began to roll up his sleeves. “Due to recent events, we have forgone the formal cleansing trial. I will do what I can, and my prayer is it will all leave. Should some remain, we will continue with the trial to help you get rid of the rest.”
Indenuel still said and did nothing. Martin watched the boy, his heart breaking. They weren’t even married two months.
Tolomon helped Indenuel to his feet and Indenuel looked at neither one of them, instead staring right through them. Tolomon helped him take off his shirt. Dalius reached forward, saw the lack of mark on his chest before touching his heart, closing his eyes. Martin watched a pure white glow filter into Indenuel’s body before he nodded. “You are cleansed of the corruption; no trial is necessary.” Indenuel’s face made no reaction. Martin reached forward, willing to take a hold of his wrist and heal him of whatever pain he could, but Indenuel jerked it away, finally looking him straight in the eye.
“Go to hell, Martin,” he said, full of pain.
“If we had known-” Dalius started to say.
Indenuel turned his gaze to Dalius, and he stopped talking. “Don’t. Whatever you have to say, don’t. I need to see Inessa tonight, and the more you talk, the less likely that will be.”
Dalius looked like he was about to say something else, but stopped. Indenuel threw his shirt back on, pushing past the two men before he left the cell. Tolomon was at his side, giving the High Elders a concerned look before catching up to Indenuel.
“What should we do?” Dalius asked.
Martin leaned against the cell wall, feeling sick to his stomach. “We do what he asks. He needs his time to mourn.”
“Martin-”
“There’s nothing more to do. You saw him, he’s cleansed. We give him the time and distance he needs. We do nothing, and more importantly, we make sure Indenuel never figures out what Navir did. Not right now. Not in his state.” Martin covered his face again, seeing her dead eyes, both after her encounter with High Elders and after with the mob.
Dalius straightened his sleeves, looking at the door. “He, um…” Dalius closed his eyes, folding his arms. “Martin, you need to have a graduate bodyguard, too. Get one soon. I’ve heard Navir talk about how easy it could be to have you accidentally killed. I’m quite sure you were the intended target this morning, just as much as Inessa was.”
Martin lowered his hands, staring at Dalius. He felt the nausea returning as he forced himself to look away. “Thank you, Dalius, for your warning. Get back to the Cathedral. Make sure those two High Elders stay there.”
Dalius nodded, then turned around, heading for the dungeon door. “Coming, Martin?”
Martin leaned against the wall of the cell, still unable to make the nausea go away. “Don’t wait for me. I need a moment.”
Dalius said nothing, he simply took in Martin’s pain before turning around and walking up the stairs.
Martin leaned against the wall, the tears that were always under the surface bubbling up again. He sank to the floor, trying not to sob, but feeling too many emotions not to.