The Reader - Chapter 22

Chapter 22 

Soft carpet silenced Emmeline’s footsteps as she padded down the hallways behind the soldiers. There were three now, all of them different than the ones she had seen before. Maybe to prevent emotional attachment and possible vulnerability to the prisoner - her. Maybe just because Baelle had soldiers to spare. 

The castle was eerily quiet, the normal business of maids and butlers absent. Not that Emmeline had ever been in a palace quite so magnificent before. Zoro had taken them to some replicas as part of the show, but there had been plenty of servants there. 

Again, Emmeline was hopelessly lost and quickly gave up on attempting to remember the turns they had taken. 

And once again, Emmeline was astonished to find that Baelle was not conceited enough to host their meetings in a throne room. Instead, Emmeline was led to a tower in a garden that had to be in the center of the castle. 

Based on what Emmeline had seen, the castle wrapped around in a vague circular shape but with many points. Inside the circular form was a garden so mystical that it had to be straight from the nurseries in Zachryose. The plants were really quite breathtaking, the vines and flowers obviously well cared for. 

In the very center of the garden was a tower, so very tall that it seemed to graze the clouds with its tip. 

“In you go, miss,” the first soldier ordered, unlatching the hook from Emmeline’s ropes and removing the bindings on her wrists. The other soldier held open the heavy wooden door to reveal a steep looking staircase. 

They didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. The first soldier shoved her into the tower while the other slammed the doors behind her. 

Darkness cascaded down the steps but only for a moment before torches flickered on illuminating the staircase. It rose high and Emmeline was about to turn and run out the door when she heard the click of a lock. 

She was stuck in a tower with a sociopathic demi-goddess. How enjoyable. 

Emmeline sighed and began to climb the steps. The wound around and around a large support, the wood creaking slightly under her weight. There were no windows, only the soft crackles of the torches and the shadows the flames cast on the walls, dancing to an inaudible beat. 

Up, up, up she climbed. Higher and higher the staircase rose until finally she reached a small platform. The door at the top of the tower was painted with images of flowers and plants Emmeline had seen in the garden. Just as she raised her fist to knock the door swung open. 

Emmeline stepped inside to find a … sitting room? 

There were several couches and cushions strewn across the room in no order whatsoever. Straight in at the opposite side was a comfortable looking chair and a couch occupied by two regal looking people. 

Emmeline didn’t wait for an invitation, she simply strode to the chair and took a seat. 

On the left side of the couch sat a frightful looking man who wore a golden crown perched on his balding head. He slumped over backwards almost like the couch was the only thing keeping him upright. King Gray the Whatever-Number-It-Was-Now was not looking healthy whatsoever. 

Beside him sat a woman who looked so different than what Emmeline had been expecting it was terrifying. 

Emmeline had been hoping Baelle was terrible looking and easily hateable just by her looks, no matter how unfair it would have been to judge her by her looks. Instead, Baelle had an air of gorgeousness around her. 

She had long locks of black cascading from her head to her hips, dark as night. Her eyes were a sparkling bright identical shade to her hair. Her lips were perfect. 

But then again, Baelle was the demi-goddess of Witchcraft. She could look however she wanted, so most likely her appearance was dictated by what she preferred. 

And yet no matter how comely she was, Baelle radiated a chaotic beauty that was almost so crazy that she wasn’t pretty. The way her eyes glinted with malice and the way her lips curled up in a sneer were unattractive. 

“Staring is very impolite, dear,” Baelle said, her voice silky. 

“So is lying about how you really look,” Emmeline retorted, finally managing to summon some of Newt’s sarcasm. 

Baelle’s features shifted, her hair shooting into her head to form shoulder length curls of chocolate and eyes as bland as grain. Her beauty was gone and Baelle looked like a normal woman. “This is my true look,” Baelle said in a low voice. “Do you prefer this appearance, or…” She shifted again to form a fiery demonic creature. “That one,” she finished with a sweet smile before reverting to her normal self. 

“Burnette really works for you,” Emmeline noted, trying not to sound scared. If Baelle could turn into that what couldn’t she do? 

“We’re not here to discuss fashion,” Baelle snarled. 

“You didn’t really make that clear. Your note sounded like we would be playing dress-up,” Emmeline smiled innocently. “I wore my best clothes.” 

“Your best clothes,” Baelle asked, suddenly regaining her evil confidence. 

Suddenly, Emmeline’s tunic began to tighten around her stomach and chest. It grew tighter and tighter like a metal band constricting her airflow. Just as Emmeline was sure that her lungs would explode from the pressure everything released and she sucked in a grateful breath of air. Her ribs would probably be bruised, but at least she was alive. For now. 

“What was that for?” Emmeline protested. 

“You must learn to respect those of a higher status,” Baelle spoke loudly and calmly. King Gray sat in silence, staring dreamily into space. 

“But I already respect Beckett,” Emmeline said, knowing fully that she was making Baelle angry. Maybe if she could make the demi-goddess so full of rage that she was irrational Emmeline could get information out of her. 

Baelle’s lips curled in a snarl, but King Gray interrupted. “Did the girl say Beckett? Is the boy here?” His eyes opened wider. 

“No, your highness,” Baelle sighed, masking her anger well. “The boy is not here at the moment.” She turned back towards Emmeline, frowning. “I fear King Gray has taken a turn for the worse. I’ve had to fill in as his advisor.” 

“I can see that,” Emmeline said. “But doesn’t that leave the Silver Kingdom out of your control?” 

“One of my … sisters … is there at the moment,” Baelle explained. “She is playing the same role as I. But that’s besides the point. As I was trying to say before you rudely interrupted, there is a reason you are alive.” 

“I suppose my friends are expendable,” Emmeline said. “Newt and Beckett, I mean. You’ll kill them both soon enough.” 

“Oh, so you haven’t heard?” Baelle raised an eyebrow, a smirk rising to her lips. 

“Heard what?” Emmeline asked, suddenly feeling a bit scared. 

“Oh, it’s just that the Silver Kingdom has recently acquired two fugitives I thought you might recognize. I was notified by letter not long ago that Forrest and Coral were captured by the Silver soldiers.” Baelle’s face twisted into a sneer and Emmeline jumped to her feet. 

Or at least she attempted to. Thick ropes shot out from underneath the chair, winding themselves around her and securing her to the chair. Emmeline struggled but to no avail. 

“I’m quite glad the soldiers didn’t kill the pair of them on the spot,” Baelle continued, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “The girl can be persuaded to help me if I threaten the boy, and if she joins then so will he. Her Blessing will be useful, as will his sword skills.” 

“Coral and Forrest will never help you,” Emmeline spat, still trying to wrench her arms from the ropes. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Baelle said, narrowing her eyes. “I spoke with Coral before, remember. She will do anything to protect the boy. As for Forrest, in my kingdom there will be no Curses. He will be freed from his burden.” 

Emmeline shook with either fear or rage, she couldn’t tell. Baelle was right, Emmeline had no idea what Forrest and Coral would choose if properly threatened. Would Forrest help the enemy to rid himself of his Curse? He certainly seemed to hate it, but Emmeline didn’t know how deep his loyalty lied. She wished she had gotten to know him better. 

As for Coral, Emmeline knew that her Blessing was already on the line. Baelle obviously didn’t know if she was willing to threaten Forrest in order to win Coral’s allegiance. But that made Coral more likely to join Baelle if her Blessing was in danger. 

“You’ll never win,” Emmeline growled. She had nothing left to say, nothing left to give. Baelle hadn’t denied her willingness to kill Newt and Beckett. 

“You keep saying that,” Baelle sighed, looking exhausted. 

“What do you want from me?” Emmeline asked. 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Baelle smiled. It looked more like a grimace to Emmeline. “As you can see, King Gray’s health is rapidly deteriorating. I am prepared to take over his throne, but the world will not allow it right now.” 

“I can’t change everyone’s perspectives.” 

“Or can you?” Baelle’s eyes glinted with ambition and Emmeline knew there was no limit to how far the woman would go. “I recently heard a rumor of a secret talent of Readers. That they could … Write.” She paused, watching Emmeline’s reaction. Emmeline kept her face a mask of indifference. “They could Write on a person and change their past, their present, or their future. Of course, each person can only be Written once, so the Reader must be sure that they want to Write what they Write.” 

“What does this have to do with anything?” Emmeline interjected, rolling her eyes. 

Baelle glared at her. “I have herded Reader after Reader into this castle and tried to force them to Write for me. Unfortunately, my temper got the best of me.” 

“I’m the only Reader left and you want me to Write you,” Emmeline finished, a shiver rolling down her spine. No wonder she was alive. She was Baelle’s last resort, the last of her kind. 

“As I said previously, the kingdoms would not accept me as queen,” Baelle explained. “I have no royal blood. Me being on the throne would spark a war - a war I would not win without your help.” She paused, waiting for Emmeline to offer up an answer. The younger girl didn’t speak. “I want you to Write me Queen of the Goddesses. I want you to Write me the victor of this inevitable war.” 

Emmeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her? Write Baelle? Was the woman insane? 

Writing Baelle Queen of the Goddesses or victor of the war would be the end of the kingdoms as they knew it. 

So Emmeline opted for the answer, “You can’t be Queen of the Goddesses if you aren’t one yourself.” She waited for whiplash, closing her eyes and anticipating the blow that could quite possibly kill her. 

Instead, Emmeline felt the ropes tighten around her chest, squeezing her so tight she thought she might pop. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong,” Baelle snarled. 

Emmeline laughed and the ropes loosened. Baelle was surprised. “So you are a demigoddess,” Emmeline said, turning her head to the side as if studying Baelle from a better angle. “Clara was right!” 

“I am nothing but a purebred goddess,” Baelle said, wrinkling her nose. “I am disgusted you suggested anything otherwise.” 

“You don’t want me to just Write you as Queen of the Goddesses or victor of the war. You want to be a real goddess,” Emmeline gasped, a smile forming on her lips. “And not just any real goddess, the most powerful one so you can destroy your mother who wronged you!”

For once Emmeline thought she saw a hint of a smile on Baelle’s face. A real smile, a hopeful smile. “Will you do it?” 

Emmeline pretended to think, but she already knew the answer. 

“No,” Emmeline said with as much force as she could muster. The word seemed to speed across the room and slap Baelle on the face. It took the demigoddess a moment to register Emmeline’s disagreement and her face began to glow bright red. 

Emmeline expected Baelle to deal a fatal blow, but instead she clenched her fists and maintained her composure. 

“You do not insult the future queen,” Baelle sniffed. “I will see you tomorrow and I’ll see if you can be convinced otherwise.” She waved her hand and Emmeline’s body began to tingle, disappearing from sight. 

The world turned a bright white and when Emmeline opened her eyes again she was perched on her bed, a small slip of parchment beside her. 

With fumbling hands she unfolded the paper and read the note. The parchment floated to the ground as Emmeline pressed her hands over her mouth. 

In blood were the words your fault beside an actual picture of two children from the tower ruins, spears through their chests and eyes glazed with death. Tears fell from Emmeline’s eyes as she wept silently on the floor. 

And so the days passed on seemingly endless. 

When Emmeline finally regained her composure she finally noticed a steaming plate of food lying on her bed. At first she ignored it, wondering if perhaps Baelle was trying to poison her. But as her stomach growled the food began to grow smaller magically and Emmeline leapt for the plate, consuming as much as she could - which was admittedly little. 

There was nothing to do in the room. She spent her spare time practicing Wiley’s gift of fighting accuracy. She used one of the hangers from the closet as a sword, swinging it around at invisible enemies. 

When it became clear that she wasn’t going to be allowed out of the room she started forming dummies out of blankets and the large assortment of clothing from the closet. She practiced climbing by using her bed posts as trees and she ran laps around the room when she grew bored. 

There were no windows whatsoever, but there were torches along the walls that dimmed when night probably was. There was no way to tell how much time had passed because it seemed that the torches would dim at random times. Emmeline took these opportunities to sleep restlessly. She knew Baelle was probably watching her but the woman wanted her alive so she didn’t worry too much. 

After the first time she woke Emmeline discovered a small piece of parchment on the desk along with several pens. The parchment only had the scrawled word Ready? Emmeline wrote no in tiny handwriting. The paper disappeared, leaving only pens behind. 

Emmeline used the pens as arrows and the hangers as bows. Her aim improved immensely and soon she could dive, roll, and leap to her feet while still holding her weapons. 

The food also would appear at random times and Emmeline had to be watching. If she didn’t eat quickly the food would disappear entirely. It was never enough food to satisfy her hunger and Emmeline was sure she was growing weaker. 

She bathed what she thought was daily, but one could never be sure with the torches that dimmed on their own. Some “nights” she couldn’t sleep because the flames were too bright and other times the torches lessened during her fighting practice, making it incredibly inconvenient to get anything not. 

Emmeline quickly fell into a routine. She would wake and reply no to the note every time. She practiced fighting and ate quickly when the plates of food appeared. Baelle had also given her a pile of parchment and an assortment of pens that actually worked (the others had been speared into the dummies). Although Emmeline didn’t know why Baelle was being so kind to her she took advantage of the supplies. 

It soon became another part of her routine to write. She wrote the symbols and meanings so she didn’t forget, but she also wrote stories. They weren’t made up - they were stories from her past and her present. If she died she wanted people to know that Baelle was evil and whatnot. 

Every day Emmeline grew wearier due to lack of food. She began to sleep more and more, her dreams becoming nightmares and the food becoming smaller. 

Baelle won’t kill me, Emmeline repeated to herself. 

Yes, but she can starve you and torture you. Baelle is not above that, her logical mind reminded her. 

Nevertheless, Emmeline prayed to the Goddesses. She prayed for Layenyl to give her strength. She prayed to Dixral to keep her alive. She prayed to every Goddess she could think of. None of them spoke to her. None of them gave her what she asked for. Emmeline wondered if Baelle was blocking all communications between her and the outside world. 

By the end of what Emmeline assumed was the seventh day she was growing tired of the walls of her prison. She was tired of waiting to be rescued. 

So when Baelle’s note appeared on the table Emmeline didn’t hesitate to respond yes. The note disappeared with a snap and Emmmeline heard a knock on her door. “Ma’m?” a voice called out. “We’ll escort you to her highness when you’re ready.” 

Emmeline chose to wear a darker tunic this time. Deep in the depths of her closet she found boots that matched her midnight black leggings. She carried herself with pride as she flung open the doors to her room. The soldiers standing there didn’t even bother with the leash this time. 

Despite standing tall Emmeline was still weak from hunger. The guards knew that and they gripped her arms tightly. 

Emmeline tried to keep her confidence but when the soldiers led her down several staircases instead of to the garden she began to feel panicky inside. Why was Baelle meeting her down in the ground? Were they going to the dungeons? Baelle’s room? 

She controlled herself, forcing her limbs not to tremble and her knees to stand strong. 

Emmeline knew that if she showed fear Baelle would exploit that as a weakness. But the deeper into the Earth they went the more flighty Emmeline felt. Her skin itched for her to run, but the guards gripped her skin with arms like iron bands. 

The air grew colder but Emmeline felt sweat beading on her forehead. 

Finally they reached the bottom of a staircase made of dirt. The floor was soft and mushy but the guards forced Emmeline along until they began to pass empty cells. 

“The minor prisoners are normally kept here,” one of the guards explained when he saw Emmeline staring. “But Senior Advisor Baelle moved them for now to an undisclosed location as part of her…” 

“Shut up,” the other guard ordered and the first guard fell silent. Emmeline hung her head, pretending to be ashamed. Maybe she could trick some information out of them… 

“We’re here,” the first guard said, promptly letting go of Emmeline’s arm. “Baelle is right through those doors.” He gestured to a large pair of doors directly in front of Emmeline. “Good luck.” 

He giggled and the other guard had to let go of Emmeline to slap him. Emmeline sighed and didn’t even bother knocking on the door. She simply strode into the room. 

Baelle was sitting cross legged at a small table, her chocolatey curls back into place. She smiled politely when she saw Emmeline. “You accepted my invitation,” Baelle noted. “I was pleasantly surprised.” 

Emmeline wasn’t having any of this act. “I decided it was time to stop running.” 

“And good timing too,” Baelle nodded. She snapped her fingers and torches all over the room flickered to life, chasing away the dark shadows and revealing a figure strapped to a chair. 

There was a hood over the head and Baelle gestured to the seat across the table from her. 

“Take a seat and we can get started,” Baelle said. 

Emmeline had no choice but to oblige. She took a seat and was not surprised when straps flung themselves over her wrists, restraining her to the chair. 

Baelle waved her hand and the hood flew off of the figures head. 

Emmeline’s heart wrenched. 

Newt was sitting on the chair, his head lolled to the side and his limbs looking limp. His skin was abnormally pale with the exception of a jagged cut across his forehead. Blood spilled down his face and painted his cheeks a cherry red. Emmeline then saw that the length of his arms were covered in scabs. She didn’t know if they were fake or real. 

“Now, shall we get down to business?” Baelle asked with a smirk. 

Emmeline took a shaky breath. “Yes.”