This entire cell is made of iron. The walls, the ceiling, even the damn toilet and sink. A sink which gives off water that tastes like toilet water and, you guessed it—iron. Yummy.
There’s nothing else in this six-by-six iron cell aside from a cot and a lone pillow that’s more case than filling, and the gray uniform on my body that’s about three sizes too big. I rolled up the waist, legs, and sleeves and tied the midriff together to try to cinch it a bit, but I’m still swimming in it. I’ve changed the color to starbursts of tie-dye orange, yellow, and red, and it practically glows beneath the lone lightbulb hanging above me.
This place is seriously boring, so I’ve been playing around with changing the colors of my clothes and taking a lot of naps, but I’m all napped out right now. Luckily for me, I’ve always been a self-starter, so I know how to occupy myself. Chalk it up to the many, many times my mat grounded me when I was a kid.
Sighing, I grumble a curse at the shadows and go slump on my flat pillow again. Digging into my pocket, I grab the piece of iron pipe that I managed to break off the sink, and get back to work in the corner of the room.
Hours later, I’m so engrossed in my task and singing “Oops!... I Did it Again”that I don’t hear anyone approaching until my door suddenly clinks open, and I turn to look over my shoulder at Rook stepping inside.
His bright turquoise eyes land on me, and damn, he looks good in the dim lighting. His hair looks like it’s almost glowing in greens and blues. His mouth is open like he was going to say one thing, only for him to close it and frown. He cocks his head as he takes me in. “What are you doing?”
“I’m digging a tunnel out of my cell like Andy Dufresne.Obviously,” I say, because duh.
Instead of getting pissed or running off to tell on me like a prison guard probably should, Rook smirks. “I thought you didn’t want to get out of here.”
“I don’t,” I say, shrugging. “But tunnel-digging is a good way to pass the time.”
He snorts and then tosses me a burlap sack. I manage to drop the pipe and catch the sack before it hits my face. I open it and peer inside. I find a blanket, a change of uniform, some apples, water bottles, packaged snacks, and even some candy.
“Cellwarming gift?” I quip.
“Pretty much. The guards upstairs are pissed at you. They all voted to let you starve down here.”
Geez, it was just a little tail swipe. I grab one of the packages of crackers and dig in, eating all six in rapid succession. Thank goodness. If they left me down here much longer, I would’ve seriously started to worry about how hungry I’ve become. I have no doubt that this prison would gladly starve some of its inmates.
“But not you?” I ask, my mouth full of food and dry crackers flying out as my cheeks bulge like a chipmunk.
He shrugs and sits down against my closed door, hiking a knee up to rest his forearm on it. The move looks way too sexy for my food-starved brain to ignore.
My stupid tail goes a-thumping.
I quickly shove it in my pocket and turn back to my tunnel. Well...it’s more like a divot. I’ve only managed to dig about an inch down through the weakened wall in the corner where the iron cracked and split open, revealing crumbling rock behind it.
“Is that a tail in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Rook teases.
“Ew,” I say quickly, digging through the rock harder than necessary.
“Ew?” he repeats. “What does that mean?”
“It means come up with better lines,” I reply.
“Your tail doesn’t mind my lines,” he says with a teasing glint in his eye. “It’s happy to see me.”
I scoff. “My tail couldn’t possibly be happy to see you. It just...likes cellwarming gifts. That’s all.” I lie, trying to keep my voice incredulous despite my cheeks starting to flush.
“I think your cockatrice likes me.”
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder and drop my pipe, flexing my sore hands. Picking up the satchel again, I pull out one of the apples—bright green, my favorite—and bite into it.
“Pshhhh...you wobbled at me first. That meansyourcockatrice likes me,” I say around my bite.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”
“Yeah. All the time,” I say as I chew. “That’s why I still do it.”
He chuckles, the shadows curling into the clefts of his dimpled cheeks. “You don’t get along with her, huh?”
I swallow the sour apple down. “She sold me off to a power-hungry, psychopathic rival alpha without even consulting me or telling me until it was done. What do you think?” I deadpan.
