“Mmm.” She let out a satisfied moan. They must have arrived at their destination last night.
The hazy fog of sleep dissolved. Her muscles tensed. No, not sleep. She had slipped into unconsciousness. And she wasn’t alone when it happened.
The memory flooded back to her, the three men in her tent, the dark magic they possessed.
She had never encountered sorcery like that up close. Magic in her lands was small. Creating fireworks from thin air, predicting futures. Parlor tricks compared to the powers the first descendants of the gods had been able to wield long ago.Thatkind of power had faded.
Could they have been fae? She had never witnessed their true magic, she only heard stories. Helaina doubted that was the case. In texts, the fae’s magic was described as light and majestic, unified with nature.
That power she witnessed was ominous and disturbing.
Lethal, those men were lethal.
If they could appear in her camp without anyone noticing, surely they could be near right now.
With that thought, her head shot up, whipping from side to side. There was no one here. She was alone.
Carefully, she placed her palms at her sides, bracing her weight on her bony arms as she lifted herself up to take in the surrounding space. Sconces lined the circular room with flickering light. She noticed a small carved nook to the side with a toilet, sink, and mirror. There were only three other pieces of furniture: a bed, a dresser, and a compact nightstand where her three books lay stacked in a neat pile.
Was this her cell? Some sort of dungeon?
She glanced at her wrists and ankles. She wore no chains, no ropes or shackles. She breathed a sigh of relief to see her tempest tears remained right where they should be. They hadn’t stolen them.
Across the room, she saw an archway, the dark wooden door underneath slightly ajar. She was free to come and go. They were very confident she had no chance of escape.
With that power she’d witnessed, they would be right. Their glaring difference in size more than suggested that hand-to-hand combat would be utterly useless.
Shimmers of cerulean gray danced on the rock surrounding her exit. There were no windows or sunlight here, only the flicker of the sconces.
Was it possible she was underground?
She looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon.
There was nothing.
She could try and use her own power to escape, even if she couldn’t control it. She clutched her bracelet, toying with the idea of finally taking it off.
A lick of dread crept up her neck at the thought of using her power. She had never harnessed it willingly—not ever. The idea of calling upon it scared her, but the thought of staying here was even more terrifying. If it was life or death, she would use it to get out of here.
Drops of water from the ceiling cast faint echoes in her ears as they fell. She thought she heard more falling water in the distance—rain maybe?
She stood, brushing herself off. Her nightgown had been replaced with a tunic and trousers she recognized as her own. It was cooler here, and although she was grateful to be in the thicker wool material, she was horrified at what that could mean.
Did someone... did they change her clothes?
She couldn’t for the life of her remember putting these on herself. How long had she been lying there unresponsive? It was impossible to tell if it was day or night here. How much time had passed?
She rolled her sleeves up one at a time, then the legs of her pants, carefully assessing her own body. There were no new bruises. She closed her eyes, internally scanning for any pain or soreness. As far as she could tell, no one had touched her. Surely she would feel if there had been some sort ofintrusion, if someone had assaulted her in her sleep. The only feeling she perceived was the familiar emptiness in her stomach.
Relief swept over her.
“Thank the gods,” she breathed out loud. She didn’t appear harmed in that way, at least not yet.
A pair of black boots sat propped against the side of the dresser. She snatched them up while attempting to mentally organize a plan. The choices were simple: wait for someone to come back, or take her chances with whatever lay outside that door.
She liked the sound of the latter—at least she wouldn’t be trapped like a rat with no exit.
She tried to make sense of where she was. It certainly wasn’t Keles. It was far too cold. The autumn months were mildly brisk in her homeland; this air had a bite to it.
