Page 41 of Anomalies

Within seconds, it’s just the Vaughns, me, and the Dame. Her Grace’s stare is pinned on me as I approach Iris’s bedside.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn,” I say calmly, “I need to ask your daughter a few questions.”

“Now?” Elliot asks, his brown eyes bloodshot as he exchanges a concerned glance with his wife. “Captain, we are forever in debt to you for what you have done for us…for our family. You’ve put us back together, and we are so grateful, but can’t your questions wait a little while longer?” Elliot looks longingly at his daughter and smiles. “Just until Iris can get a bit better.”

The room falls silent, and all I can hear is the buzz of the overhead lighting.

These are the decisions I hate making most, because in truth, no, these questions can’t wait. And if it weren’t for the hundreds that could still be alive in Streatham, I’d leave the Vaughns to soak in these last moments with their daughter without hesitation.

If the lives of countless others weren’t riding on these questions, I’d tell them not to waste a single second of this.

But that’s not the oath I’m sworn to.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Vaughn.” Lila’s eyes empty out, as if she knows exactly why these questions can’t wait, and Iris…she watches me warily from where she holds onto her mother.

“It’s alright, Elliot,” Lila says to my surprise, squeezing her husband’s hand. She bends down to whisper something in Iris’s ear that makes her daughter smile, then Lila looks up at me and nods once. “Go ahead with your questions, Captain.”

I move instinctively, kneeling by Iris’s side. “You’re quite the fighter,” I tell her, and she gives me a timid smile. “I need your help with something, Iris. Can you do that for me? It’s important.”

Her dried lips part as she steadies herself. “Saved,” Iris whispers, her voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

She has nothing to thank me for.

I manage to smile even though my lungs are heavy. “I wish I’d gotten there sooner,” I reply, then I take her hand. “Iris, are there others I can save?”

Her eyes find mine and widen. Then she nods. “Hundreds.”

I stiffen, my gaze slicing to Delia, whose face has gone utterly blank. I calm my breathing and return my focus to Iris. “Can you tell me where they are? I’d like to save them, Iris.”

Her eyes grow heavy, and she forces down a breath that rattles in her chest. Fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “Cages,” she murmurs, and the room tilts on its side.

It takes me a moment to reel my consciousness back in. Cages? But the only cages in Streatham are the ones⁠—

“Underneath,” Iris rasps, and it takes years of training to keep my face calm. The cages under the palace—the dungeons.

“You’re doing so good, Iris,” I force out, unable to look at anyone but her. “Just a few more questions.”

She nods, but the movement is weak. Too weak. She’s barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Can’t we give her some time to rest?” Elliot begs, but his wife rests a gentle hand on his arm. Lila smiles, smoothing her daughter’s hair and studying her face as if she’s trying to find the features she remembers—odd freckles or birthmarks maybe. She was only eight or nine when she was taken.

“Mr. Vaughn,” my voice is calm. “Your daughter is saving lives by answering these questions. Hundreds of lives.” Elliot’s eyes find mine, heavy with grief, but he says nothing else, grasping onto his wife’s hand and squeezing it gently.

“Just one more question, Iris, I promise. Then I’ll let you rest.” A tear falls down her cheek, but she nods. “Why did they keep you alive, Iris?”

She fights for breath–fights to speak. Her lips open and close, trying to form the words but can’t and panic rises within me. I can’t bring myself to look at anything else but her.

Iris’s final inhale is the loudest thing in the room. “Slaves,” she manages to say as her chest falls.

And it does not rise again.

There’s a ringing in my ears as I stumble out of the Infirmary.

Slaves. Our people are being held as slaves, and poor Iris…she must have escaped. Either that or Rogues dumped her out there like some diseased animal. Some unimportant piece of⁠—

The ringing reaches a fever pitch, my pulse beating along the sides of my neck.

It wasn’t enough to take our kingdom, to rip all these families apart. They’ve been keeping our people as slaves for twenty fucking years, and for what? To be their playthings? Their trophies?