Prisoner by Megan Derr Read Free Book Online

eyes…even dulled with exhaustion, Beraht's eyes remained a brilliant yellow. Somewhere he'd found clothes that fit, and his glare dared Dieter to protest his taking them.
    As if he cared. "Now you may sleep," he said and smirked to see the ire that flashed across Beraht's face. It was like toying with a new recruit—far too easy. "I do not suggest attacking me in my sleep, should you decide to try it after all."
    "You're not worth losing sleep over," Beraht returned. Saying nothing more, he reclaimed his section of bedding and fell almost immediately back to sleep.
    Dieter sneered at his still form. Headaches. Exhaustion. Beraht was progressing rapidly through the stages of arcen withdrawal. It would be amusing when he woke up starving in a few hours with no idea where to find food.
    *~*~*
    Beraht sat up, instantly awake. Dieter had lit two torches when they first arrived, but only one remained lit. He was painfully aware of the fact that they were underground, with no sun and stale air. It was little better than living in a cave. Heathen Krians. As beautiful as the room was, it was still a hole in the ground.
    Stars above he was hungry. For something very specific, but he was as likely to find arcen there as he was to get along with his bastard keeper. He stood up, resisting the urge to kick the man who slept only a few steps away—with one hand on his sword. Beraht snorted. Krians and their weapons. If he took the sword away, would von Adolwulf snarl or cry?
    Beraht realized that he had no idea where to find food. There was no obvious cupboard, and they were already in a cellar. Damn it. At least the pain in his head had dulled. Stars he just wanted to go back to sleep.
    "Hungry?" The smug voice made Beraht start. He hoped the bastard hadn't noticed. Had he been awake the entire time? Probably. One day their positions would be reversed, and oh the revenge Beraht would have.
    Instead of answering, Beraht curled back up in his bedding. Everything smelled like the trees outside, mixed with dust and some strange powder that he'd determined kept out insects. Laughter met his silence, and he heard von Adolwulf lay back down. Eventually his breathing evened out. Beraht turned over to his other side and stared at von Adolwulf's shadowy form.
    Even asleep von Adolwulf dwarfed his surroundings. He slept soundlessly, breaths audible only because there was literally no other sound in the room. Beraht was surprised. He would have expected a man like von Adolwulf to sleep with one eye open. Perhaps he did. Could Beraht kill him now?
    With what? Beraht snorted softly. If he had arcen, the problem would have already been resolved. But without his magic—and while suffering from a lack of it—Beraht doubted he could best von Adolwulf even if he had all the weapons, and von Adolwulf was already wounded.
    He turned back over. How twisted that his captor was the person he had the least interest in killing. Names are power. Power of life. Power of death. Do not give a name lightly. Do not take a name lightly. Do not share a name lightly. Do not speak a name lightly. Beraht choked on a sound that was half laughter, half sob.
    He had been nameless his entire life, only to be offered a place on the condition that he killed. Now he lay here, captured and named.
    Not by a parent. Not by a spouse. Not by a brother. By an enemy.
    He curled up tightly, ignoring the pains of both body and mind as best he could, until sleep finally carried him away again.

Chapter Three
    "Lord Grau," an older woman greeted him with a smile. "We were just finishing up."
    "Excellent," Sol said, returning the smile. He looked at Iah, who sat quiet and motionless in an old wooden chair. The cottage wasn't much, but over the years it had become the place he thought of most fondly. Lying in the woods, just shy of the northern border between Salhara and Kria, it was an ideal place for him to switch identities. He paused to look in the mirror just inside the main