The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

41. Return to Luxenal

Chapter forty-one

Return to Luxenal

H er soaked leathers clung to her skin, leaving her wondering if she would ever be able to peel them off again. Had she been at home. Closeted in the cold damp of High Tower Castle, she would’ve taken a knife to them without a thought and crawled into her bed to sleep for a week. But she wasn’t. She was crossing the winding river, racing through the trees of the forest back toward the mine. With every step closer, the weight that had lifted over the last few weeks slowly slid back into place. What would she find when she stepped back into the cacophony of the mud drenched shithole that was Luxenal Copper Mine?

Solveig had known that she would have to return at some point. Either to reclaim her post, or to search for those missing execution summons. Fortunately for her, Commander Sellen had grown impatient, snapping up the opportunity of her absence with rampant glee. He’d declared her position had been filled internally. Leaving her no choice but to remove her belongings; or risk him turning them to ash in the crematorium with the next load of Luxenal’s victims. He’d unwittingly given her the perfect excuse to return without arousing suspicion.

As the sun dragged itself higher in the cloud drenched sky; she soon heard the crashing, clanging and squelching orchestra of the mine’s open pit in the distance. Solveig tried her best to block it out, but with every step closer, it grew louder. Coming to a head as she walked up to the arched wrought-iron gates and came face-to-face with her old commander.

“Finally decided to show your wretched face, Reaper?” he sneered, eyes cold.

“Commander Sellen.”

“They have your things in the operations building. We wouldn’t want you roaming in any areas you’re no longer allowed.”

“As if I have any interest in spending a second longer than necessary in this cesspit,” she said with an air of boredom as she moved to walk around him, but he snatched her arm tightly.

“You’ll have an escort at all times, and you’ll leave your weapons here. Only my guards may walk the grounds armed.”

Solveig’s eyes narrowed as she wrenched her arm free from his punishing grasp. “You think I’m going to wander around here with no protection?”

“Hence the escort, Princess. My guards are more than capable of protecting you.”

Solveig stepped closer, leaning into his space, whispering with dead eyes and emotionless words. “I killed three of your guards the night I left. You’ll forgive me if I’m not confident in their ability or their willingness to watch my back.”

The commander only shrugged. “Leave the daggers here or go home,” he insisted. Solveig unsnapped her holster, shoving it toward the nearest guard. “If there’s even a speck of dirt on those when I return, I’ll be cleaning your blood off them on your own uniform,” she hissed.

Heads turned as they escorted Solveig through the gates, expressions ranging from fear to disgust, anger to sorrow. Some prisoners, those who weren’t chained in the open cast, spat at her feet as she walked by. It seemed the news of her stepping down had travelled swiftly. She refused to react. After everything she had done, Solveig knew she had no cause to be upset over some spit. Not when she refused to apologise.

Whispers travelled the muddy walkways like the wind. Silence had once been their greeting of choice for her. Still, the names and gossip were hardly new. Solveig merely allowed them to fuel her myth, feed the legend of her name.

A good myth was hard to kill. They could spit at her feet all they wanted, but they’d never dare touch her. Each of them was still too scared to lose what insignificant life they had left, especially those who had survived more than a year in the pit. Those who had something to hold on to, something to hope for. Hope was the greatest killer. Without it, you stood no chance, but when the hope died, it took you with it.

Her escort led her straight to the operations building, and Solveig froze. Sat at the desk was a familiar face, but not the one she had been expecting. Solveig had thought salt and pepper jewelled braids, and haunting silver eyes would greet her.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Viana, the woman who worked the desk before I… left.”

The guard stared at her as though she were being purposely stupid. “No one by that name has worked here,” he muttered. “Only Miss Everly there.”

Solveig knew that wasn’t true. The young woman sat before them had indeed worked at the mine. She knew her face had dealt with her before, but she wasn’t there the day leading up to her departure.

“You’ve never seen a woman walking around here with grey eyes and braided hair?”

“No,” the guard scowled, eyes flicking back toward the door they’d come through.

A chill danced its way down Solveig’s spine. Who was that woman if she wasn’t an employee at the mine? How did she know so much about the operation?

“Ah, Miss Maleen, right on time.” Miss Everly smiled. “Your belongings are over here.” This was the same girl who had cowered from her before she’d executed Mr Kano. Yet here she stood, smiling, and chattering away as if they were simply old friends.

“With respect.” Solveig tensed. “I am still a princess of the realm, whether I remain employed here or not.”

Miss Everly laughed with a wave of her hand. “My apologies, Your Highness. I got so used to seeing you here that I forgot who you were on the outside.”

These people weren’t afraid of her anymore. Solveig had killed and tortured. She’d broken a prisoner out, and yet they acted as though none of that had happened.

“I don’t need all of it,” she said. “Only a few items of personal value.”

“Well, the boxes are over there. Go through them and anything you don’t want, leave it here and I’ll have it sent to the crematorium this evening.” She shrugged, moving to sit back behind her desk.

Solveig stared after the woman for a moment. She’d been away from the mine for a month, and it was as though everyone had had their memory wiped.

She paused as realisation struck. Her breaths grew short, eyes wide, pulse rapid.

Malik had said that physical torture wasn’t the only type going on within the mine. And Killian, he had mentioned them testing the machine that had allowed The Oracle to rip through her memories on prisoners.

What if the testing was over?

What if this was another side to what the machine could do?

Implant false memories, change a person’s perception of reality, their personality. Bend someone’s will to another’s. And Solveig had allowed them to hook that thing up to her. How many times did it take to become pliant?

She needed sleep, and a drink, not necessarily in that order. Her eyes alighted on a lone bottle of whiskey lying in one box. “Thank The Oracle,” she muttered, pulling the cork free, savouring the burn as it helped quiet her frantic mind.

“Your Highness!” Miss Everly sputtered indignantly, “it’s not even midday yet!”

“Your point?” Solveig muttered, taking another swig, “I travelled through the night. To me, it may as well be nighttime.”

The woman looked unsure as she worried her lip between her teeth. “Perhaps we should find you somewhere to rest for a few hours, and you can continue your journey when you’re more… coherent?” Solveig looked down at the bottle in her hand and back up at the peppy woman before her.

“Fine,” she muttered, “but I’m taking the bottle with me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of parting you from it,” Miss Everly murmured, lips pursed as she walked away, leading Solveig out of the operations base. They headed for the guards’ bunk house, past the reception desk and down the left-hand corridor, stopping at the first door.

“This is my room.” Miss Everly said as she fished a key from her pocket. “Clean yourself up, have a nap.” She eyed the bottle again. “And maybe eat something before you drink any more of that.” Solveig gave the woman her best attempt at a grateful smile, though it wasn’t convincing as she headed inside and closed the door without another word.

Solveig snatched the desk chair and wedged it beneath the door handle. It wouldn’t stop anyone who was truly determined to get in, but it would at least give her a small window of preparation. She listened as Miss Everly’s footsteps faded away and then began tearing through the room. She didn’t know what she was searching for, and it was highly likely that Miss Everly wouldn’t have any sensitive documents hidden in here. Still, it was worth a shot.

In a drawer of the desk, her hand drifted over a rumpled sheet of paper. It was a measly scrap, completely unassuming, yet it pointed to things not being as they seemed within the mine. An appointment slip, to see the healers, dated not two days prior, for a ‘mental well-being assessment.’

She needed to get to the infirmary. If they kept records on the usage of that device, they had to be there, but first she had to get around the mine, unseen.