The Lion Soul by Amy Sumida
Chapter Thirty-Seven
On the journey to Alantri (I assumed that's where we were going since it was the home of the Farungal), I had a lot of time to think. Most of my thoughts were centered around Kaelen. All right, all of them. There was an ache inside my chest that grew bigger the further away from him I went until it was nearly unbearable. It seemed that my heart was intent on proving me wrong. I more than cared for Kaelen, and the pain of losing him—not of the possibility of my torture and death but of never seeing Kae again—was as crippling as his pain had been.
“I love him,” I whispered in horrified revelation.
Yes, I was horrified. I couldn't believe that it was only now, as I sailed away from Kaelen, that I realized how much I loved him. Why couldn't I have realized it sooner? A single day would have changed everything. Three words from me would have ended Kaelen's suffering and healed our relationship, then I wouldn't have been out on that beach. But no, I had buried my heart so deep under impenetrable shields that I couldn't even tell when I had given it away. It was gone, the shields forming an empty shell inside me, and in that hollowness was only an ache for what would never fill it—Kaelen's love.
Kae would think that I'd left him. Without proof of a Farungal attack or even that of a struggle, he wouldn't know to look for me on Alantri. All this time, I'd been wrestling with feelings of loneliness, but I'd never truly been alone. Now, I was alone. I was alone and trapped, destined for the very tortures that I had, ironically, saved Kaelen from. I couldn't even fight back. My enemies had hobbled me with base metal. Such great power, conquered by the stuff they use to make cooking pots. Some demigod I was. And yes, I tried to blast those bars with magic; all it did was make some pretty sparks as it fizzled out.
After a couple of hours of wallowing, I fell back on my old ways. I crossed my legs, straightened my back, closed my eyes, and cleared my mind. A true warrior doesn't need weapons to defend himself; weapons are merely tools, it's the warrior who holds the skill. My body and, especially, my mind were deadlier than my swords. I had to stay calm so I could use them.
I reached a state of serene focus, but no solution presented itself. I didn't panic, just kept my mind open to possibilities. On the ship, I was hindered and escape was unlikely. This meant that I had to wait until we reached land. So, I waited and conserved my strength. When they came for me, I stood docilely and allowed them to chain me in iron. The manacles were lined in silver so they didn't weaken me as the net had, but they kept me from using my magic, and that included shifting.
I said nothing as they walked me out onto the deck, not even when the monsters jeered at me and made disgusting gestures. I kept calm when they carried me down to a rowboat, and I sat serenely as they rowed us to shore. The Farungals started to look at me oddly when I continued to keep my expression blank and my body loose. They scowled when they tossed me onto the sand, and I merely stood up, giving them no further reaction, not even bothering to brush myself off. After hours of marching down a dirt path, they began to whine. Not due to the hardship of the journey, but because none of their physical or verbal abuse won them any kind of reaction from me. I almost chuckled at that. Here they were, a bunch of murderous monsters, but when it came down to it, they were no better than a gang of schoolyard bullies.
When we made camp that night, they finally left me alone. I laid on the hard ground and stared at the unfeeling stars above, waiting for the Farungals to go to sleep. Maybe then, I'd be given the opportunity I was waiting for. I knew I needed to act soon. If they got me behind stone walls and into another iron cage, I'd be doomed.
