But things have changed.Wehave changed.
And now . . .
Now he’s gone.
My eyes burn. I could force the tears away and keep them for later, but why bother? Why should I be strong when bad things keep happening to me? No matter where I go, no matter what I do, things always seem to get worse.
So I don’t fight the tears. I don’t push back against the gods who clearly have it out for me. I don’t yell or stare into the darkness.
Slumping, I draw my knees to my chest, rest my head in my hands, and weep.
I think I’ve been in here for two days. Maybe three? It’s hard to judge, and time has been playing tricks on me. But based on the dryness in my throat, the thirst that has been growing more insistent with every heartbeat, it’s been a long time.
My cup was refilled once. Someone—I don’t know who—came by yesterday while I was sleeping and gave me more water. I drank it, but it wasn’t enough to soothe my thirst. I’ve been trying to stay awake to see if the person who brought the water will return, but so far, no one has come.
I’m crouched at the entrance, staring past the bars with bleary eyes. Is it just me, or is the inky blackness more prominent than before? No matter how long I peer into it, squinting, I can’t make out a single shape.
I’m beginning to suspect that I will die in this lightless place.
At first, when the tears subsided, I tried occupying myself to pass the time. I’d attempted to summon those sparks again, wondering if those blue flames that had devoured the king’s soldiers could help me in this situation. None came, and I gave up when it became clear that I was expending precious energy on a useless endeavor.
It makes sense, in a twisted way, that the sparks are out of reach now. I hadn’t been able to save my friends, so why would I be able to save myself?
The awful truth is that I am completely, utterly alone. There aren’t even any rats in this isolated place.
If not for the cups of water, I would think there is nothing here at all.
My chest aches, getting worse with each passing hour. I never knew loneliness could be physically agonizing, that it could feel like a slowly expanding gap in my chest, destroying me from the inside out.
The loneliness is nearly as painful as my thirst.
Wouldn’t it be fucking ironic if I survived so much only to die because I didn’t get a drink? Water is all I can think about, all I can focus on.
“Please,” I whisper for what feels like the thousandth time, my lips cracking from dryness. My head falls against the cold iron bars. “Is anyone there?”
The darkness swallows my words, and the silence mocks me with its loudness. I didn’t know silence could be loud, but this incarceration is teaching me all sorts of things I never wanted to learn.
Time slips on.
Despair wells up within me, and I clutch at the bars. My chest burns, and my eyes sting. I don’t let the tears fall, though. I can’t afford to lose the precious liquid.
“I need water,” I beg hoarsely. Desperation tinges my words, but I don’t have it in me to care.
It feels like an eternity passes. The silence is screaming at me, and I lose track of how many times I ask for a drink.
I’m not even sure why I’m wasting my breath. My captors, whoever they are, haven’t even shown their faces. Why would they put me in manacles and throw me in here, leaving me to rot?
I’m fairly certain the king isn’t behind this. Even though he made it clear on the night of the ball that he wanted to kill me, I don’t think this is what he had in mind. I imagine that death at the king’s hand is a bloody, painful affair.
If Gabriel were here, I’d ask him, but he isn’t. Every thought of the Hunter is accompanied by a painful contortion in my gut.
My breaths are drums in my ears as time marches on. I release the bars, running my fingers down my bracelet, the sun catching between my fingers.
Please, I think as I rub the token.Please let someone come for me.
I don’t know who I’m asking for help—not the gods. Not even fate. Amelia, then? Or Kadyn. Perhaps the collective of gods-blessed who lost their lives, all of us pawns in a game I still don’t understand.
More time passes. My throat is a desert, and my fingers are about to fall away from the bars when a noise catches my attention.
