Page 122 of Ravenrose

If they kill me, they can’t use me.

He can’t use me.

That’s how I win.

Mind made up, the nervous energy coursing through me is too much for this little cell to hold. I pace and pace, but still can’t get the anxiousness I feel fluttering inside my chest to settle. If anything, my heart only beats faster the more I try to calm myself.

I distract myself by searching for anything—anything else to focus on.

It’s not long until I start to pick up the sound of voices, laughter, and shouts drifting down from above me. The soldiers have begun to ply themselves with food and ale. The sound of music even makes its way down to the dungeon cells.

Bad music. I wince at the gods-awful screeching of strings that were meant to be a tune. But the laughter only grows louder the more drunk the soldiers get.

Good.

The drunker they are, the better my chances.

Now, if only Ayer will partake… I almost laugh out loud at the notion.

No.

It’s hard to picture the grumpy captain up there, enjoying a drink and a laugh with some friends—hard to picture him enjoying anything, honestly. The man lives in a perpetually cold state of misery.

As the hours drag on, I’m thankful once again to Hari, as I wrap the thick cloak he gave me tighter around myself.

The cold is settling into my bones. I can see the warmth of my breath in the air. I force myself to focus, making plans of escape, playing through various scenarios.

I will not beg him for anything.

I will not kneel.

Not to him.

Not to anyone.

Chapter 52

ROWAN

Time passes slowly when you’re locked in the dark.

What’s it been, hours? Days? Years, maybe? Years certainly feels like a possibility…

My body trembles from the cold, from the dark, or the anticipation of what’s coming… I’m not sure which.

Not being able to see has me on edge, and I jump at the slightest sound. Every little creak—a threat; every shift in the wind outside—a monster.

I sit with my back against the wall farthest from the door. My eyes stay peeled on the dark corner I know holds the cell door. I don’t dare sleep, even though I’m exhausted.

Watching.

Waiting.

I think I hear something from behind the door, and immediately, it has my full attention. It’s late—very late if we’re considering dining-hall time… The men upstairs have gone quiet—off to bed or passed out on a bench, perhaps. It’s far closer to the morning hours than the evening.

I can make out the faintest jingle of keys behind the door as the bearer searches for the right one.

My heart leaps into my throat.