“Because.” Her eyes meet mine. “The first time you two were separated, he checked on you every day, if not multiple times a day. This time . . . I haven’t heard one thing.” She shakes her head. “Not one damn thing.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
KELLER
Footsteps make their way down the hall, halting me from my wall squats.
As quickly as I can, I slide to the floor, spread across the hard stone, and curl into a feeble ball just as the door to my cell opens.
“Well, he’s looking rather pathetic today, isn’t he?” a familiar voice says. I’ve been trying to place it, but for the life of me, I’m having the hardest damn time.
The first time I heard it was when I was brought to this cell. My mind wasn’t functioning properly from being drugged and tased, so I didn’t think too much of it.
But the second time I heard it, I realized I’ve heard the deep baritone before.
And now, hearing it again, I keep my breath still so I can listen closely for any tells, anything that would point me in the direction of figuring this out.
“And he smells foul.”
Not my fault. They don’t do anything but hose me down every once in a while.
No soap.
No deodorant.
Nothing.
Their problem, not mine.
The smell is actually working to my advantage. Banamaor doesn’t want to stay in my cell for very long because I smell so bad, so it makes the torture even shorter.
“Well, shall we tell him?” the familiar voice asks.
I remain still, as still as I can be.
“I think we should.”
There’s purpose behind what they’re about to tell me, meaning, they want a reaction. And that’s not something I’ll give them. I’ve come this far, playing the part of the nearly dead prisoner, I’m not about to lose all that work because of their predisposed plans of trying to rile me up.
Stay cool.
Stay calm.
It will pay off.
“It seems like the princess has found some freedom being newly single.”
My breath pauses in my throat.
Freedom?
As in . . .
My nostrils flare as my teeth grind together. I was ready for them to tell me something that would anger me, something about Torskethorpe, maybe something about Lilly being brokenhearted, but I’m not fucking ready to hear about Lilly and her newfound freedom.
“Spent a month in Marsdale, just as we expected.”
The familiar voice says, “And for a moment, we thought that she was still too hurt to even think about looking at another man, but she surprised us at this past Winter Flurries party held by King Clinton.”
