Another step, and my feet slip out from under me. My cheek hits the snow. My eyelids droop, close, and then stay closed.
29
Blackspire
ELOISE
Two days come and go. I slump against the wall of my cell, my head throbbing with the need for nourishment and water, my blood like sandpaper in my veins. Where is Damien? It feels like there’s a nail being hammered into my skull just above my right eye. I press the heel of my palm to it and try to block it out.
He’s coming. He’ll be here soon.
“Stand up,” the guard orders. He’s back again with his stupid cart and his stupid orders. The smell of the blood and food would make my mouth water if I had any saliva left, but that is long gone.
“Stand up and walk to the door,” the guard orders again.
“No,” I rasp, although the word is barely audible. My vocal cords are too dry and my fangs too distended to speak clearly.
“Fucking pain in the ass,” the guard mumbles, and then he opens my door.
In my mind, I picture myself racing across the cell and snapping his neck, before finding my way out of here. But I can hardly move. The last time I fed on Damien was four days ago. The last time I had any food or drink at all was the night before I was captured. That means it’s been almost three days since I’ve had any sustenance at all. If I were human, I’d be flirting with death from dehydration right now. I’m not human, and I’m not dying, but I am desiccating. I can feel my flesh drying on my bones.
No matter how much I want to attack my guard, I can’t.
He walks into my cell and pulls me to my feet. I can’t stand on my own and he has to assist me to the door, but he makes a sound like he’s clearly unhappy about it. “It seems you’ve gotten your wish, shade. Adril has asked to see you. Time to get that stench off you.”
I’m no shade, I think, but I’m too exhausted to say it aloud. He half carries me to the end of the hall, then shoves me through a door toward a dark-haired woman in a red dress. “She’s all yours.”
She grabs me by the shoulders and tsks. “You can’t expect me to have her ready by tonight. I’m not a miracle worker!”
“She’s due for presentation at the Blackspire ball tonight. You can tell Adril yourself if you can’t make her ready.”
“Devil’s spawn,” she curses.
My eyes roll back in my head. I black out for a moment, and the next thing I know, another man is carrying me, an elf but a big one.
“This way. Hurry,” the woman says.
He carries me to a room and lowers me to the floor beside a tub. “What is your name?” the woman asks.
“Eloise,” I croak.
“What? Gods, you haven’t eaten in days.” She disappears and returns with a small goblet. “Here. It’s clean. It won’t hurt you.”
I look down into the vessel, the contents obscured in its dark belly.
She holds up her arm and points toward a cut. “It’s my blood, okay? It’s fresh. I’ve had no chance to spell it to injure you. Besides, it’s my head if I don’t get you cleaned up and into a dress in—” she checks the clock “—three hours.”
I drink the blood. I’ve never had elf blood before. Honestly, it tastes like absolute garbage, but I feel better almost immediately. Better, but also still ravenously hungry.
“More,” I say, handing her back the goblet.
She takes it and points her chin toward a copper tub filled with steaming water. “Take off your clothes and wash up. There’ll be plenty where you’re going tonight.”
As much as I’d prefer to be defiant, the lure of a bath after everything is too much to deny. I stand and strip out of my clothes. I’m aware she’s watching me like some kind of perv. I’m too tired to care. I sink into the bath, almost moaning at the feeling of the warm water against my muscles.
She comes to the side of the tub and pulls over a chair. “I am Ferida, lady’s maid to the guests of Blackspire. I must tell you, this is the first time I’ve been asked to tend to a prisoner.”
“This is the first time I’ve been a prisoner.”
