I lean against the door and let myself breathe.
My hands are shaking. My legs threaten to give out. My stomach is still cramping with hunger, but I ignore it.
Slapping his hand away felt right in the moment. Necessary. Mine.
But now, alone, the weight of everything crashes down on me.
I’m a prisoner in a fortress full of warriors who either hate me or want to use me. I’m bound by iron to a warlord who could crush my skull with one hand but instead plays games that make my skin flush and my stomach flip.
My family in Red Hollow probably thinking I’m already dead.
My village let me go without a fight.
My future is a black void I can’t see past tomorrow.
Tears sting my eyes. Hot and unwelcome.
I bite them back viciously. Refuse to let them fall. Press my palms against my eyes until I see stars.
I will survive this. I will find a way out.
But tonight, alone in the wolf’s cage, the words ring hollow.
Tonight, I let myself slide down the door until I’m sitting on the cold stone floor, arms wrapped around my knees.
The scent of smoke drifts through the window—it smells like my mother’s bakery. Like Saturday mornings when she’d let me help knead the dough before opening. My father would come in smelling of leather from the tannery down the road, and we’d eat fresh bread together while it was still warm.
The memory hits so hard, I have to bite my lip to keep from sobbing.
They’re gone. That life is gone. Everything I knew is gone.
I sit there for a long time—minutes or hours, I don’t know—before I finally drag myself to the bed and curl on top of the furs, still fully dressed. I pull the sewing awl from under the pillow and grip it in my fist.
My only weapon.
My only comfort.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but every sound makes me jump. The wind howling outside. The wolves baying in the distance. The guards shifting positions outside my door.
Their voices continue in low conversation—unchanged, steady.
Then: different footsteps.
Soft. Deliberate. Moving down the corridor toward my chamber but trying to be quiet about it.
My eyes snap open.
The footsteps stop outside my door.
The guards’ voices continue at the same volume. They don’t react. Don’t call out. Don’t challenge whoever just approached.
Ice floods my veins.
The handle rattles. Slow. Testing. Seeing if it’s locked.
It is.
But someone is trying to get in.
