My head began to spin; my breath came out in shallow pants. Had my clothing always felt this tight? I couldn’t stay here. I just couldn’t.
The potion! You need that potion.Counting backwards from three, I sucked in another breath.You can do this.Ignoring the feeling that the walls were moving inwards, I squinted into the dark.
The door to every cell was shut. All but a single cell at the end of the chamber.
Sword firmly grasped in my trembling, blood-smeared hands, I crept slowly towards it, careful not to make a sound. Even my shallow breaths had halted, out of fear of being discovered by unwelcome ears.
In turn, my senses were heightened. I was on alert for any sign of movement, any noise. Yet all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating a death drum inside my chest.
Sword raised, I stepped inside the cell and was hit with the metallic tang of blood in the air.
The windowless cell was dank and occupied by a figure lying face-down in a pool of blood on the ground. Manacleswere secured tightly around the figure’s wrists, though they lay motionless. Utterly and hopelessly motionless.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Feeling faint, I approached the figure, and with each step closer, it became undeniable.
Hugo was dead.
Chapter 25
I forgot everything.
Forgot that I felt like I was in a casket, forgot why I was here, forgot where I had come from, forgot who I was.
All that existed in the world was Hugo’s lifeless body.
Somehow, I was bent over in front of it. I hadn’t even realized I’d moved. For a moment, I felt as though I had shifted out of my body and was observing the scene in front of me like a shadow on the wall.
From this surreal vantage point, I could see my own terror-filled eyes scanning his corpse. I could sense my alarm at the sight of the bloody wound on the back of his head, weeping a puddle onto the dirty floor. I could feel my confusion as I discovered the shards of broken glass speckled amongst the blood, like chips of ice floating in a crimson sea. I could taste my distress at the realization that it was the remains of what had once been my potion.
A cough and a splutter from the corpse jolted me back into my own body, back into reality.
The ragged breathing told me it was not a corpse. Hugo was alive. Barely, but he was alive.
I didn’t know whether to scream in horror or weep in relief. I did neither, as I frantically scanned the side of his face that was not drowning in blood.
“Hugo?” At the sound of my quivering voice, his eyelids fluttered, as though he was fighting to prise them open. “Hugo, it’s Alara. Who did this to you?”
His responding whimper was like a wounded animal in distress. A wave of nausea rose in my stomach.
“I’m going to get help. You’re going to be alright.”
Another whimper.
Before I could leave, he startled me by grabbing my arm. His grip was weak, and his fingers were icicles. He didn’t speak, but I knew from this one small gesture that he wanted me to stay.
I placed my hand against his forehead—a pallid canvas coated in sanguine paint—and I recoiled at the contact. His skin was freezing beneath the sticky warmth of his blood. He didn’t have much time.
“Listen to me,” I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice was cracking. “I have to go find help. Hold on. Please.”
Choking on a sob, I didn’t look back as I stood and sprinted out of the cell and back through the chamber. Lungs screaming in protest, I didn’t falter as I made my way down the hallway over shards of broken glass, until I reached a spiral staircase. Mind in a haze, I didn’t think anything other than,Hurry,Hurry,Hurryas my feet pounded up the stone steps, two at a time.
So absorbed in my desperation, in my purpose, I didn’t notice the solid wall until I collided into it.
No, not a wall. A person—a member of the Royal Guard, flanked by several more guards.
At the sight of them, I came undone.
My cries of distress were met with harsh commands to explain myself.
