“This is the kid always hanging around His Highness Prince Ito.”

Zen opened his eyes to suffocating darkness. He felt a dull throbbing at the back of his neck. He lurched forward from his kneeling position, catching himself on his hands. His wrists were rubbed raw where they’d been bound. The stone floor under his fingers was cool and damp. He choked on the overwhelming scent of blood and shit.

“The boy’s awake,” someone said. Zen lifted his head to try to look at them, but a kick to his ribs made him double over.

“Let’s go easy on him for now,” another voice said. “At least until he proves uncooperative.”

The other person clicked his tongue. “Fine.” He cupped Zen’s chin in his hand. “You know what we want?”

“No,” Zen growled. Obviously, he did. His heart was beginning to pound with the realization of what he was about to face. He could easily guess that every Gahi trainee had been rounded up for interrogation. Zen looked doubly suspicious; not only did he come from the same village as Auring, he also was constantly in the presence of Prince Ito. Were someone to make an attempt on the prince’s life, he would be the ideal perpetrator.

“Then lemme spell it out for you. We’d like to know more about this Auring girl and her accomplice. Who else are they working with? Which family is she from? What did you know about the attempted assassination? Things like that.”

Zen remained silent. They won’t be satisfied no matter what I say. I’m already guilty to them. If I can just endure a little bit of this…

The more outspoken guard grabbed Zen by the hair and yanked his head back in a quick, forceful motion. “We’ll start out easy on you,” he chuckled. “You’re from her village. Who’s her father, her mother?”

He gritted his teeth in response. Shouldn’t they know this? He briefly wondered if Ayue was undergoing the same treatment. His brows knit together with worry. I hope they go easy on him.

“Staying quiet even for this? Alright, alright.” The guard let go of his hair and stood up. Zen couldn’t see what he was doing. The cell was pitch black except for a brief flicker of light from the corner. He heard the hollow sounds of the man approaching him again, and he flinched instinctively.

“We’re just trying to keep the realm safe,” he cooed, puffing smoke in Zen’s face. “We’ve kept you safe, your family safe, we’ve invited you into our city. And you repay us with this?” He tsked. “Anything you know will help us.”

The guard tapped his pipe, letting the burning ashes flutter down Zen’s nose, onto his collarbone and his shirt. Zen hissed and swatted at the flakes, but the guard grabbed his hand and yanked him up. His knees were wobbly as he was forced to stand, his hands restrained once more, this time tied to something hanging from the low ceiling. He tossed a desperate glance at where he thought the other guard was, but there was no reaction.

“I’ll ask again,” the guard said, his voice light and airy. Zen couldn’t tell where the guard was. His head hung down, his eyes squeezed closed. Every breath he took was conscious. “What do you know?”

He didn’t give the boy much of a chance to respond before kicking him in the back of the knee. Zen stumbled forward, but his outstretched arms caught himself before his knees hit the ground. He bobbed up and down with the momentum of the fall, feeling as if his arms were straining in their sockets.

“If you don’t know anything, you can tell us that. We don’t expect everyone to be involved.” The other guard was speaking now, a little shakily. He sounded young. “You just have to realize that you always pairing up with His Highness...well, it doesn’t look good.”

Zen didn’t know if this was a trick. I really don’t know anything!

“Still nothing? Oi, Marek, should I break his ribs or his nose first?”

The young guard clearly didn’t want to be the one to make such a grim choice. It was made for him, with a hearty punch to Zen’s chest.

“Fuck!” Zen yelped over the sound of cracking bone. His eyes began to sting with tears, and his fingers were clenching and unclenching in desperation, trying to find something to clutch onto.

“He speaks! Tell me, what do you know?”

Zen bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he began to taste blood. Fuck, it hurts, this hurts.

“I broke your ribs, don’t you believe me? I can show you.”

There was a slight scraping sound, like the guard was pulling something out of his belt, and then there was the icy touch of metal on skin. Zen gasped as the knife pricked his chest, right above his bruised ribs. The guard traced a straight line across his abdomen.

“I don’t know anything! I don’t know anything!” Zen cried out, struggling in his restraints. He kicked out one of his legs and made contact. The guard huffed and carved the knife deeper into his body, until it touched splintered bone. White heat seared through the boy’s body. So engulfed in a wave of pain, he couldn’t hear himself scream, curses echoing throughout the dark chamber.

Zen didn’t realize that the guard had removed the knife and stepped away until several agonizing moments later, when the pain had finally dulled enough for him to feel anything else. His jaw hung open slightly, the saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth and under his tongue tasting of metal.

He began to babble, gasping and groaning between words, “I didn’t know anything! Her- her f-father is Alyson Aleksander, he’s a m-merchant. Ah, that’s all I know, I swear. We’re not c-close, agh, to her or her family. The other man, I don’t know who he is-”

“How do you know the murderer was a man?” the man snarled, grabbing the collar of Zen’s shirt and yanking it upwards to force the boy to look him in the eye.

Zen’s choked. Shit shit shit. Lying was difficult when his nerves were set aflame. He hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue until he could smell the rank breath of the interrogator. “I- I’m just assuming, I know nothing!” A sob broke free from his throat. “Please, you must believe me!” I’m so pathetic I’m so pathetic I’m so pathetic.

“Fine. Let’s say that’s true. How do you explain your relationship with His Highness Prince Ito?”

“We just train together, that’s all! The sword master thought I was the best fit!” The sound of his own voice infuriated him. There was no evidence of any wrongdoing on his part, and yet here he was, grovelling at the feet of two lowly soldiers. Their hatred for him was palpable. His hatred had dissolved into desperation at the mere sensation of pain. Pathetic pathetic.

The nicer guard butted in. “The sword master has confirmed this. Let’s go look into this business about her father before moving on. Maybe we’ll get more out of him later.”

“Fine.” Zen felt a glob of spit land on his neck and ooze down his shirt. He didn’t have the energy to flinch.

As he heard the cell door click closed, he took a deep breath and shouted, “Fuck the Sovereign Prince and all the other princes! I hope next time the arrow goes straight through their fucking bastard brains!” It was the least he could do to make it up to himself.

“Ignore him, ignore him,” the nice guard urged when the other made an angry sound low in his throat. Zen heard the thud of their boots as they walked away.

He was alone. He strained his ears for a sign that someone he knew was locked up nearby, but heard nothing. The pain from his injuries cycled in an ebb and flow. The blood seeping from the wound in his abdomen slowed to a gentle trickle. His shirt clung to his skin, sticky and warm. He wondered if he’d bleed out before someone else came.

It was hard to measure time down there. He was really only lucid when the pain receded. Sometimes, at those moments, he’d try to relax, forgetting that he was locked into a standing position. His knees would buckle, and he’d be jerked upwards again, his joints threatening to pop out of place.

At some point, he heard the click of a key entering a lock. He hadn’t heard any footsteps approach. Back already? His mind went blank in a panic, and he twisted in his restraints. “I told you!” he screeched. “I don’t know! Please-” His throat was too dry to continue. His sentence ended in a cough that shot daggers through his tongue and throat.

Then, the restraints at his hands loosened. Limbs trembling, he collapsed onto the ground, knees and palms slapping at the cold floor. He slumped over further, letting his forehead touch the stone between his knees. Dread shot through him; such a show of mercy could only be followed by something even worse than before.

He opened his mouth to plead again—you’re so pathetic, you deserve this—but a hand slapped over it, and another hand at his neck guided his head upwards. He whimpered into the palm.

“Don’t shout,” a soft voice hissed into his ear.

Zen froze in shock. When he made no sign of protesting, the hand lifted. “What the hell are you doing here?” he spluttered.

“I came to help you. And, well, to get your help. Um, there’s something suspicious going on, I found something, but I’m not sure what to make of it…”

“Your Highness,” Zen replied drily. “You couldn’t get someone not locked up? And who isn’t half-dead?”

The prince paused. “I don’t know who else I’d ask.”

“Aren’t you worried about being seen with your attempted murderer?” Zen’s mind was too foggy to keep up with his shock. Is the prince an idiot? was all it could manage.

“I know you weren’t in on it. And that you won’t kill me.”

Zen remembered his parting words to his torturers and barked, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Ito clicked his tongue impatiently and placed a hand on Zen’s back. He didn’t even entertain Zen’s threat. “Listen, I’m taking you to my room. You need to hide around the corner while the on-duty guards come back. I sent them away saying there was something they had to take care of and that my bodyguards would keep watch. I’ll make sure no one sees us. We have to go now.”

Zen let the prince help him to his feet. He was surprised he was still able to walk. Well, “walk” was perhaps an exaggeration. They moved at the pace of a shuffle, Zen leaning his entire weight into Ito’s shoulder as the prince held him upright with an arm at the waist. Zen’s arms felt lifeless at his sides, and each step sent needles through his ribs.

“Don’t worry about my bodyguards seeing you. They’re loyal to me,” Ito whispered as they neared the entrance to the jail. The torchlight illuminated their silhouettes. Their shadows, stretched out along the gray floor, were barely recognizable as humans. The prince only now could see the state Zen was in—the smattering of burn marks across his nose, the way his wrists were rubbed raw, the large bloodstain across his shirt. Wordlessly, he shed his coat and wrapped it around Zen.

Two guards were lounging outside the door. Even knowing they were the prince’s, Zen’s heart began to pound faster. But he let himself be guided into a corner by the staircase that led out of the underground dungeon. The prince helped him sit down, his hands hesitant and careful everywhere they touched, and he huddled in wait.

Though his bleeding had stopped—in part because he could now clamp his hand over the wound—he could feel his consciousness faltering. Prince Ito was casually chatting with his bodyguards, but his words were slurring in Zen’s ears. His eyelids were too heavy to open; it was as if he were falling asleep in class again, but his usual boredom-induced daydreams were replaced with scattered thoughts of so thirsty...can’t breathe...it hurts to breathe. Maybe if he closed his eyes tight enough, these thoughts and feelings would fade.

Zen was too far gone to hear two people approach, their armor clinking with each step.

“Your Highness, all is dealt with.” The speaker’s voice was laced with confusion. Whatever they’d been sent to do must have been trivial, or not befitting of their ranks, but they didn’t dare question the prince.

“Thank you. We will be off now.”

“Ah, Your Highness, was everything okay here? Aren’t you missing your—?”

“Nonsense. Nothing was amiss.” His tone was so matter-of-fact that he could have been standing there in naught but his underclothes and the guards would be convinced that he hadn’t even blinked since they left.

Zen felt a pair of arms help him to his feet. It was much more difficult to stand than it was before. He still couldn’t open his eyes; it was much too tiresome to try. He felt someone lift him into their arms; Zen managed a semi-coherent thought of did Ito get taller? And bigger? He realized they were walking up the staircase. It must’ve been out of sight of the jail entrance for them to get away with it.

Zen felt himself lowered to the ground, and an arm snaked around his waist again. “They’re gonna scout ahead of us to make sure no one is outside my room, and then I’ll help you there...You with me?” the prince whispered.

“Mm,” he grunted. He was clutching onto the front of Ito’s shirt for balance. His head hung down to his chest, and he could feel the prince’s breaths against his ear. Stay awake stay awake, he was chanting in his head, trying to clear the thickness in his head and his limbs.

He didn’t hear what the prince said next, but he felt him urge them forward. He didn’t know how he got his legs to cooperate, but his body didn’t give out until he was lowered onto a soft carpet floor. His head touching the cushy fabric, he finally let himself pass out.