Shame joined the guilt and beat through her with the same force with which the whip continued to beat against Blue Eyes. She should do something. Should try and stop her father, no matter the consequences to herself.
But did she? No. She was weak. Pathetic. A coward.
You should just end it all, a voice whispered inside her head.
Another voice, she realized with astonishment. Not the same sweet voice as before, but a deeper one, suggesting she . . . kill herself?
You’ll feel better. Everyone else will feel better. What’s not to love about the idea?
Pinpricks of evil brushed against her skin—evil she recognized from Jecis, Matas and that other realm—and the truth hit her. She really wasn’t crazy. The voices were real.
One sought to help her.
One sought to destroy her.
Well, she’d endured too much to give up now. All she had to do was stick to the plan, continuing to save and sell the presents her father gave her—and stop hemorrhaging cash to secretly buy niceties for the otherworlders. One year, she reminded herself.
Hope is silly. What if your treasures are stolen before you can sell them—what if your cash is stolen after you sell them? What if your father discovers your plan? Do you really want him to have the satisfaction of killing you?
“I’m not listening to you,” she whispered. “Go away.”
Surprisingly, the evil crackle in the air faded.
Another blow was delivered to Blue Eyes, stopping the most bizarre conversation she’d ever had. Another flinch on her part. Hopefully that was the end of it—but no, again and again the whip descended, until Blue Eyes had received fifteen agonizing strikes.
A panting Jecis dropped the weapon and wiped his blood-spattered hands together in a gesture of a job well done. He looked Blue Eyes over, frowned. Actually, every person in the crowd was frowning, Vika realized. They were staring at Blue Eyes as if he were a monster wearing a tiara: terrified yet awed.
Why?
“Anyone helps him, and they die,” Jecis announced. “And if you think to fight your way free and run,” he added, stomping over to kick Blue Eyes in the stomach, “go for it. There’s a tracker in your cuffs. I’ll have you back in that cage by morning, and you’ll wish the whipping had killed you. Oh, and if you try to remove the cuffs, you’ll activate the blade-saws and they’ll remove your hands.” He laughed cruelly. “A little safety precaution I had installed.”
Blue Eyes didn’t even glance in his direction.
Jecis whisked around. “You and you,” he snarled to two of his biggest employees. “Stay here the rest of the night and watch him.”
With that, he stomped away with a grinning Matas close on his heels. Most of the others followed after him. There were a few stragglers who hung back to gauge Blue Eyes’s reaction to the threats. He remained just as he was, his expression blank, his gaze locked on Vika.
Thankfully, fatigue from a long, hard day’s work and the knowledge that another day just like this one loomed on the horizon soon got the better of the stragglers and they tottered off, leaving only the guards. One was stationed at the east end of the captives’ circle and one was stationed at the west end.
Vika gazed at the otherworlders in the cages. Most were gripping the bars, like Kitten, and some of their expressions were filled with horror while some were filled with relief. If she aided Blue Eyes and they sounded an alert, she would only bring more trouble upon his head. Or back.
But why would they sound an alert? Jecis would return, and could very well direct his anger at the prisoners. But then again, if they remained silent, he would know they’d witnessed her actions and punish them tomorrow. Or maybe he would be too angry with Vika to consider the otherworlders’ part.
Either way, she wasn’t going to worry about her father right now. She couldn’t. Too well did she know the pain of being beaten, then left alone and hurting, desperate for someone, anyone, to help. Abandoning Blue Eyes wasn’t an option.
Heart thundering in her chest, Vika snuck up behind the first guard. Gulping, she flipped back the hood of her cloak and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun to face her, tensed.
“Vika,” he said, his expression hardening. He looked behind her, as if he expected her father to pounce. “What are you doing here?”