No. She had seen his face. His shock, his fury, and barely disguised panic.
Esmyra witnessed the love in his eyes.
But now, as the guards dragged her away, all she could focus on was breaking free. She kept her head low as she tried to gather strength.
Their plan was to extract information on the whereabouts of Elowynne through torture. The glint of steel in both of the kings’ eyes betrayed their intent. If the cuffs prevented mental intrusion, they would resort to more brutal measures.
Would they carve her flesh with velsinyte blades? Would she turn into a husk right there in their dungeon?
Well, maybe if they just fucking asked nicely, I would’ve told them where she is.
A subtle snort left her. Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t have done that.
“I didn’t hear anything funny,” one of the guards said to the other. “Did you?”
“Sure didn’t.”
That was when one of them struck.
It wasn’t a blow to the face or a scream-worthy lash. No, it was crueler than that. A sharp twist of her wrist had it snapping, her tiny bones breaking and paralyzing her for half a heartbeat. Her knees buckled as she screeched, her hand hanging limp in its cuff.
“Fuckingprick,” she hissed.
The other guard tightened his grip, fingers digging bruises into her other arm as they yanked her forward with renewed force.
But even then, none of their inflicted pain was comparable to the sharp ache in her spine. It hadn’t eased since she woke up on the ship. If anything, it had gotten worse.
They dragged her down the steps then. They were out of the moon-lit halls, passing by carved statues of ancient elven kings as they descended to the underbelly of the palace, lit only by torchlight.
The corridor narrowed until it felt like a cage closing around her.
They stopped at a door reinforced with iron bands. One guard pulled a ring of keys from his belt, the other pressed a hand to her shoulder, pinning her to the wall.
The key turned with a grindingclick.
The door groaned open, revealing a room where chains hung from the ceiling, and drains were carved into the floor like gaping mouths.
“Creepy,” she muttered under her breath.
One of the guards stopped mid-step and turned sharply. “What was that?”
She gave him a slow smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just admiring the hospitality.”
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he shoved her hard between the shoulder blades, making her stumble forward into the center of the room. She silenced the scream climbing her throat at the sudden pressure to her already agonized spine.
The other male moved toward the center of the room, where a chair was chained to the floor, and rusted iron cuffs bolted to its arms.
They wouldn’t be able to use those bolted cuffs so long as she wore the ones currently on her wrists.
“Get the chains,” one barked. “We’ll need to strap her down.”
Oh, fuck no. Think Esmi, think. What did Drae teach you?
As they grabbed her arms to force her down, her mind ticked fast, remembering everything he taught her in hand-to-hand combat when they were down in Maerinys.
She needed to start by finding their weaknesses.
The guard on the right was older, likely not difficult to disarm. The other was cocky, overconfident, and didn’t keep both hands on her when he should.
