Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

shark tail into human legs, then gripped the thick bit of rope as she climbed in. Despite the wet upon them, the bristles were coarse and sharp. Sydney hung on anyway, despite the stinging feel. With her free hand, she tucked the makeshift bone wand and rag she had trained with beneath her arm, pinching it close to her body to remain unseen.

Again, Solomon called from above. “You in yet, girl?”

“Y-Yes,” Sydney answered, her voice scattered and quiet as it echoed up through the shaft of air.

“Right,” Solomon went on. “Heave-ho, then, lads. Get her up here.”

Sydney nearly lost her hold upon the rope, the fibers burning the inside of her hand as it yanked suddenly taut. She held strong, however, riding the bucket like a swift and open-air elevator, headed for the sole way in or out of the oubliette prison.

Sydney tried to meet her captors’ stares as she ascended through the hole. The light from their torches and the pain it caused to her eyes prevented her attempt at bravery. She had barely crossed into the above before the Orcs took hold of her, pulling her free of the bucket and the hole.

The Orcs dragged her across the stones to stand before the one giving them their orders.

The Violovar rogue, Solomon, was waiting for her when Sydney dared to look up again. Unlike when she first encountered him in the sewers, however, Solomon had now traded his tattered rags of the Violovar allegiance for the polished, black armor of the royal Painted Guard.

A deeper voice that Sydney needed no reminder of to recognize called out from behind the wall of Orcs. “Stand aside, Solomon,” Malik Blackfin ordered as he led into the dungeon. “The king would speak with this traitor.”

Solomon gave a curt nod as he stepped away, offering a wide berth to his leader.

To Sydney’s mind, Malik Blackfin seemed twice as large as his subordinates. Monstrous in size, even by Orc standards, his armor set him apart from all those swearing allegiance to him. Where the others wore plate black, the Blackfin had adorned his with a swirl of white to offset the darkness he otherwise embodied.

Sydney cringed at the mocking in his eyes. The Blackfin looked on her briefly before he too stepped aside, revealing the king. Where Sydney remembered laughter and smiles from the one she had formerly named father, King Darius came to her now with unhidden malice.

Stepping within six feet of her, the king’s nose wrinkled as he considered Sydney. “Ugh.” He raised a bit of his robe to his nose to cover it. “If one didn’t take you for a savage before, girl, they certainly would know you for one now.”

Girl? Sydney thought, clenching the makeshift handle of her bone wand. So, I have no name now, to your mind? She continued her stare of him, grateful to give the king any displeasure she might offer.

The king snorted as he dropped the bit of robe from his nostrils. “Your mother is to stand trial soon,” he said. “I would have you there to watch and hear tales of her treason.”

“Why?” Sydney flung back at him. “Why are you doing this to us? To her?”

“Let you ask your mother such questions, child. Not me,” said the king. “For you know perfectly well why this is happening.” He nodded toward the hole leading down into the oubliette. “Or perhaps you need more time to swim below and look on your savage tail for the answer?”

You can’t see anything down there. Sydney thought, shivering at the idea of being plunged below again. “No,” she said quietly. “Don’t put me back down there. Please . . .”

“No,” said Darius. “I have no intentions of casting you back into the pit, Sydney.”

Sydney now? She thought to herself. Not savage. Not child, or girl. He used my name . . . Her gaze flickered to the Blackfin beside the king. But why now? What is this game you’re playing?

The king noticed her attention diverted. “In truth, I would prefer to have you back in your old chambers at the castle and well attended to.”

Lies. Sydney thought immediately. Those chambers were a cage too. Just like Mom tried to warn me when we first arrived.

Yvla’s words too came to her then, whispering from the recesses of her mind. Be brave, Sydney . . .

Sydney bowed her head in submissive answer to the king. “Thank you,” she said. “I would like to go back to the castle.”

Darius nodded. “Perhaps you shall. First, I would have some answers from you. Truth, rather.”

And there it is, Sydney thought. He wants something from me. Needs something. She reflected on her mother and Yvla’s teachings. But what?

The Blackfin stirred. “Can you not speak, girl? Or did you lose your sweet voice in the oubliette? Perhaps we ought to send you back down there to find it once more.” His gaze worked down her body. “And what’s that you’re trying to hide beneath your arm?” He asked, motioning one of the guards to lift Sydney’s arms.

Sydney resisted, but failed to fend them off.

Malik Blackfin laughed when the bone and its attached rag clattered to the ground. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the makeshift training weapon, inspecting the rag that still bore the royal symbol that Sydney had once worn before casting it into the sewers. Malik grinned. “You liked the keepsake I returned to you so much that you imagined I might want it back?”

Sydney did not rise to taunting, but she flinched when he cast the bone at her feet.

“I have no use for savage trinkets, girl,” he said.

“Peace, Blackfin,” said the king. “The child is clearly frightened and distrusts us.” He stepped closer to Sydney, then took a knee that he might look her in the eye at her level. “And why not? We have taken everything of value from you thus far, haven’t we, Sydney?”

She endured the king’s touch as he reached out to brush a strand of wet hair from