Breaking the trance she seemed to be caught in, Adalia looked down at her feet as she stood awkwardly in the corner, feeling weaker with each second that passed. She hadn’t eaten in what seemed like forever, and it was taking a toll on her body.
“Are you ready to answer my questions, girl?” The king’s sharp voice drifted to her ears.
She wanted to speak; she wanted to ask for water, but Adalia was fading fast, her mouth struggling to form words. Her ears began ringing and before she could steady herself, the surrounding room turned black.
Adalia’s coughing woke her—she needed water.
She was back in the cell, her body free of chains, yet her wings were still bound. Not that it mattered. She didn’t have the strength to use them, anyway. A dull ache throbbed in her ribs and she lightly brushed her fingers over the area, wincing in pain. Hermemories returned. How could she forget the feeling of a solid boot as it contacted her body, cracking bones and rupturing blood cells? When the Thorn had pushed her into the cell, he’d kicked her in the ribs, causing her to black out once again.
She spied a small tray near the door with a cup of water and a piece of bread. Adalia scrambled, pain erupting from her body as she did so. She devoured both in seconds. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do.
Dragging herself backwards, she rested against the wall and closed her eyes. How did this happen? One minute she was freeing the Thorn woman and the next minute she found herself trapped inside the very walls she vowed to never enter.
If only Nikolas were here. Tears pricked her eyes, and Adalia quickly wiped them away. She needed to focus if she was going to make it out alive. Maybe she could just answer the king and he would let her go.
Pain washed over her in waves and Adalia gave into it, unconsciousness claiming her as she slumped to her side, not waking until the sky was black, and serving wine to the royals was the theme again.
It had been the same routine in the dining room that evening. And the next. And the next.
The king would question her, Adalia would refuse to answer and then she was forced into serving them liquor while scantily clad. She was thankful when the king pulled out his veslo and started playing a tune. It meant that the focus shifted away from her, and they would return her to the dungeon.
Chains clanked together as she walked, her head hung low. Adalia wasn’t sure how much more of this she could endure. In Lucius she was a major, one of the highest rankings in the King of Lucius’s army, and years of training had helped her to channel painand turn it into resilience. This kind of pain was different, though. Not only was it physical, it was mental, too.
If one of her soldiers, or someone of her ranking for that matter, became trapped in Oscuro, would she come for them?
Would the King of Lucius come for her?
The Thorn shoved her into the damp room so roughly she fell to her knees, the sound of them crunching against the hardened ground echoed in her ears, and she fought back instant tears.
The Thorn slammed the cup of water down and left her cell, shutting the door behind him and locking it securely.
No bread today. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was worth talking if it meant she could have some food.
Adalia crawled on her hands and knees towards the water and drank it all. Wishing there was a small crust to eat.
Her mother made the best bread, warm, fresh, covered in butter and honey. Her stomach growled. Pulling herself into a sitting position—wincing with every move she made—Adalia softly groaned and leant against the icy surface of the stone wall.
Sighing, Adalia let her head gently fall back until it rested against the wall.
Movement caught her eye as someone stepped out from the shadows in the corner of her cell. Adalia’s head whipped around, and she met the steely gaze of the blue-eyed male that sat silently at the table with every meal. How had he suddenly appeared in the room without making a sound?
Something about his presence brought fear. How did he get in here? How long had he been watching her? Yet, as her shock settled, a strange sense of peace followed.
“Who are you?” she asked, pushing herself against the wall and standing to her feet.
“No one of interest, but at your service, my lady,” he answered as he took a small bow.
Adalia shook her head. “I don’t need your services. I need to go home.”
The stranger placed his hands in his black trouser pockets and paced the room. “I’m sure you would, but you see, my father simply will not allow that.”
“Your father?”
The stranger stilled, distaste flashing across his face. “The king.”
Trepidation washed over her as she realised that the man standing before her, mysterious and handsome, was the prince of the dark world in which she was currently held captive. Adalia swallowed her fear and stood as tall as she could.
“Why won’t your father let me go? What use am I to him?”
