Aron’s nowhere to be seen, but of course he’s not. We’re crossing hill after hill of dirt, the hippos plodding over them with fierce determination, and Aron stuck to the road. As I stare out, I realize there’s something big and dark floating in the air in the distance. It’s the Citadel, and it looks like a gleaming castle in the sky.

I gasp at the sight of it. When they said it was a citadel, I thought it’d be a fortress of stone, similar to Aventine’s thick walls. This is a glorious, delicate castle that gleams in the sunlight with a thousand colors and floats above the ground like it’s on a cloud.

“How…” I begin, but a wave of pain hits me and I black out.

OceanofPDF.com

14

I'm lost in agony.

It rolls over me with surge after surge, unending and growing fiercer by the minute. The pain is so strong that it makes me black out, only to surface again with new pain and succumb once more. I have no concept of where I am or what day it is. I don't know how long I'm being tortured out of nowhere. I just know that it keeps going and going and going. It's needles in my scalp and knives in my gut and a million things all at once. It rocks through me so hard that I vomit all over myself and I'm pretty sure I lose bladder control. How can I not? My entire body feels like it's clenched into someone's throbbing fist or I'm being turned inside out.

I scream. A lot. I keep screaming, and when I run out of voice, nothing but raspy gurgling escapes my throat. It still hurts.

It feels like it’s hurting forever.

Vague flashes of thought appear through the haze of agony. Of the soldiers talking in low, concerned voices only to disappear. Of being dumped into a bed of straw, a door slammed behind me. Of being left in the dark. I sink into the violence of my body turning against me, and time slides away.

Fog. My head throbs.

Someone kicks my leg and I turn over in the cot. Everything aches and throbs. Clearly I'm dying. I open my mouth to scream, but my throat feels like fire itself.

A hand touches my ankle and for a moment, everything washes away. Cool relief moves through me and I open my eyes to see the face of a woman with long, dark hair and silver jewelry. She studies me with a little tilt of her head and then gets to her feet.

Immediately, the pain crashes over me again. I moan, pushing my face into the straw as if that will somehow stop the agony.

"She has been screaming like this since you arrived?" The voice is cool. Sweet. Perfect. Just the sound of it makes me ache all over, makes me want something intangible and out of reach. It's the woman.

"Yes, my lady Tadekha. The soldiers said that she mentioned Aron of the Cleaver and that she was his anchor. Of course they thought she was lying…" The voice trails off.

The woman gives a sweet, musical chuckle. "Indeed. She is his anchor, true enough. The pain she suffers can mean nothing else. A lesser mortal would have died by now under such agonies."

"Then she did not lie." His voice is full of astonishment.

"Why would anyone lie about being the anchor to that one?" She makes a soft sound of disgust in her throat. "I cannot imagine who would volunteer to serve him with their life, not even this unfortunate creature."

I want to protest, to speak up, but my brain feels like an egg being fried. I press a fist against my brow to try and stave off the worst of the pain, but it doesn't work. Panting, I manage to spit out, "Who…you?"

The voices ignore me. "Which Aspect do you think it is?" one says.

"Who knows. It could be any."

I try to open my eyes and look at the speakers, but the dim light in the cell fills me with new, fresh pain. This is like the worst hangover and migraine rolled together and I just want it to end.

"Do you think he'll come for her?"

"Without a doubt," the woman says. "We should be ready for him to arrive soon. If she's in pain, he will be, too." There's a swish of robes. "Treat her better. Get her out of this filthy hole. I will not have Aron claiming I mistreated his mortal anchor. Gods have long memories.

"As you wish, my lady Tadekha."

Hands reach for me, and the moment they touch my skin, it sends a sizzle of pain through my body. I fall into blackness once more, screaming.

Always screaming.

It takes a while for me to realize I'm no longer in pain. I remain with my eyes closed, lying down. I don't make any sudden movements in case one of those migraine-from-hell things trigger again. I don't know what caused it before, but I never want that to happen again. My memories of the last few days are vague and my throat hurts like the dickens.

I vaguely remember a visitor. A woman. My thoughts are muddy beyond that, though. A woman, having a conversation about me, and then sliding back into the migraine-of-death.

"My lady, are you awake?"

I frown to myself, wondering who is in the room with me. And…are they talking to me? I've been “tart” and “slave” ever since I got here. I've never been anyone's lady so far. I squeeze one eye open, testing.

No pain. Huh.

The room I'm in is pale white and beautiful. Cool sunlight filters through delicate glittering glass windows that take up an entire wall. I'm no longer resting on hay but on soft woven blankets, and there's a pillow under my head. I still feel grimy and achy with exhaustion, but my circumstances have changed. Slowly, I sit up and look around. "Where am I?"

There's a sound of pouring water, and I flinch automatically, expecting a shockwave of pain at the sound. There is none. Whatever happened to me seems to be gone as mysteriously as it arrived.

"You are in Lady Tadekha's Citadel," a woman answers, and her voice sounds like it's behind a nearby screen. I glance around the room, frowning to myself. It's all pale curtains and pale screens and white everywhere. Not an antiseptic white like a doctor's office, but something a little purer and sweeter. Soft fluffy cloud white.

"Someone brought me here," I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed (also white) and onto the marble floors (white as well). "They snatched me from the road I was on and dragged me here against my will. I’m a prisoner.”

The woman makes a soft, absent-minded noise of dismay as if she's sympathizing but doesn't really give a shit. The faint scent of flowers touches the air. "Would you like a bath?"

Gee, thanks for listening to my concerns.

I feel for my belt with my money pouch and my knife, but they're gone. The only thing I'm wearing is my filthy borrowed guard tunic, and it's stinky from days of my sickness. Even if I'm weirded out by this place, I really, really would like a bath. "I think so."

"Come over here then, child. We'll prepare you for your master."

My master?

I test my balance but there's no pain when I get to my feet. It's so strange. I keep expecting everything to hurt but it's like all the pain just decided to up and vanish without reason. I pad forward on the cold floors and move toward the woman's voice, behind the white screen.

Standing there over a deep marble basin for a bath is an angel. I gasp at the sight of her. Holy shit. She really does look like an angel. Her hair is so silvery blonde it looks white. Her skin is milk pale and crystalline wings sprout from her back. She wears a white dress that cascades down to the ground in soft ripples.