Amandalyn
Dark eyes found me the moment Tabor arrived. His chest swelled like he breathed a sigh of relief, and I breathed one too. They were Tabor’s eyes this visit, not the vacant orbs I witnessed the day I attempted to run.
“Will you let me go?” I asked after he dropped a sack of food at my feet. How many had he left now? How long had I been here?
As usual, he did not reply.
“What will you do if she does not come for me?” I dug an apple from the bag and quickly took a bite, savoring the sweet juice. My stomach grumbled. How long had it been since I last ate? Everything ran together in this cavern
“Tabor? What will you do to me?” My voice shook.
“You will not be harmed.”
I fingered my torn and blood-stained gown. Could I believe him? He did heal my wound when he returned me to the cave, but I had not seen him since.
“You said Skye would come for me, that you would take her soul—”
“Eat.” His jerked his chin. “We will move soon and you need strength.”
I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth and stood. Tabor was right, I needed strength. My legs were weak, my head dizzy. “Move where? What are you planning? I will take my own life before I let you take over Montibello. You will not win.”
The soullessness I spied before crept back into Tabor’s features. “Poor Princess, your Guardian friends can resist my rule, for a while, but they will succumb. My army will crush them. I will win.”
His army? The men I heard and saw before? “You poisoned their minds to control them. Like you did with McClintock. What sort of power do you use to possess people that way? What are you?”
A portal swirled into existence beside him, and he—I would not call him Tabor. He was no longer the man I knew when his demeanor changed this way—offered me a chilling smile.
“I am Riglă.”