Chapter 8: Broken

It was the pain in her chest that woke her up. The grinding at the center of her collarbone, the drill bit that dug in endlessly. Every few seconds she heard the faintest of snapping noises, and could not quite tell if it was real or imagined, but the pain spiked every time. She was exhausted. She had barely slept and wanted to go back to sleep. For a few moments, she tried to, but between the stone floor she was sprawled upon and the constant pain in her chest, it was impossible. She soon gave up, cracked open an eye, and tried to find out where she was.

For that matter, why she was at all. Not in the existential sense of what her purpose in life was, a thought she was steadfastly avoiding, but in the sense of why was she still alive? Last she remembered they had hammered nails through her wrists. There were arteries in there. Opening up holes in your wrists was rather the most straightforward way of exsanguinating oneself. She clutched her wrists, but there were only scars left. A hasty healing job, but still, someone had healed her.

Now she was on the floor of a tiny stone room, with a small bed in one corner and a chest at its foot. In the corner was a chamber pot, and in the opposite corner a small bowl of fresh water. Other than that, there was nothing. It looked like a cell, but that it seemed reasonably clean and the door did not look especially sturdy made Lilith suspect that it was a monk's cell rather than a dungeon. The one who'd healed her?

Lilith wasn't sure what to do next. How long had she been asleep? Was she exempt from the penalties for “running away” since she'd been used in the duchess' performance? That would surely be too much to ask. Should she return to the Roblis Estate, or wait where she'd been left? Would she be punished if she left or punished if she stayed? Or both?

She crawled towards the water basin and looked at herself in the reflection. Her nose was bent, her split lip had not completely healed and likely wouldn't for at least a few days, and her necromantic scars from her life as a noble hardly stood out from the mess that had been made of her face. The constant grimace wasn't helping her appearance any. She grabbed the pendant stuck to her collarbone and gave it an experimental tug, but that only made the pain worse. Wincing, she released the intricately-detailed golden pendant, and then stared at its reflection for a time, mesmerized by how, out of the corner of her eye, the runes seemed to be moving, and yet when she looked at them directly they were still.

The door flung open, and Lilith gasped and pulled her knees to her chest. A man in the white robes of a working monk stood in the doorway, sword and shield across his back. “You're awake,” the monk said, “good.”

“H-how long have I been asleep?” Lilith asked.

“The better part of the morning. Probably twelve hours,” the monk said. It felt like half that to Lilith. “You're welcome,” the monk said.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Lilith said, bowing her head to the floor.

“Get up,” the monk said, “I didn't pull you off that crucifex for nothing.”

Lilith caught herself before pointing out that technically it wasn't a crucifex because those were taller, and instead rose to her feet with nothing but a “yes, sir.”

“Word has gotten around the village about a cunning little slave,” the monk said, “Dabbled in the dark arts. Quite the problem solver. A noble by birth.”

Lilith swallowed. “I'm just a slave now, sir.”

“You don't act like one,” the monk said.

“I apologize, sir,” Lilith said.

“Don't,” the monk said, “I need a noble.”

Lilith choked up, and forced herself not to cry on autopilot. “I'm not a noble,” she said, “I'll never be a noble again. It just took a year for my sense to catch up with my status.” A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “You should've come by yesterday. I'm sure I would've said any number of stupid and embarrassing things about my bloodline.”

“So you aren't the girl who assembled a gift fit for a duchess from thin air, skinned a bandit alive and left him as a warning to the others, and commanded the devourers in the nest to leave you unharmed?” The monk asked.

“I...Well, it didn't happen exactly like that,” Lilith said.

“Leave,” the monk said, stepping aside, “I've heard enough.”

It took only a few paces to reach the door to the tiny cell, but she stopped before leaving. “I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be, sir,” she said, “I just got lucky.” The monk gave her a rough shove out the door and closed it behind her.

It was close to noon when she exited the abbey. She wondered briefly if she'd be killed when she reached the Roblis estate, and then wondered if she even cared if she was. What did she have to live for? What was she ever going to have but the cruelty of her betters, the haunting memory of the time, every day more distant, when she was one of them, and the constant agony burrowing into her chest every second of every day?

 It was at the gates to Ascalon City that she saw it. The heads of the executed were often posted at the battlements atop them, and there, alongside the rapists and murderers, was the head of Fadden Hathorn. Lilith collapsed. Eyes shut, she sobbed at the side of the road while the foot traffic in and out of the city continued beside her. She wanted to suck in a deep breath and keep moving. She wanted to find some reason why she could deal with this, why it was for the best that things had turned out this way, but there was nothing. "I'm sorry," she sobbed out finally, "it should've been me."

"Are you alright?" a young girl's voice asked. Lilith looked over her shoulder. Gwen had found her. "Did something go wrong?"

"Gwen," Lilith said, her voice flat, "it's you."

"Is this something about..." Gwen leaned in and whispered "you know."

"Gwen, I lied to you," Lilith said, "I'm sorry. I know a few witch tricks, but...I'm just a slave." Lilith got to her feet, looked to Gwen, who said nothing, just stared back at her, mouth open, stunned and then angry. "And I think maybe I should be," Lilith said, and joined the traffic headed into the city, eager to be away before Gwen could find the words to respond.