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I stare at Kellyn, who still bleeds on the floor.
He doesn’t make a sound, and I wonder if he’s in shock. I know I am, but the knowledge doesn’t seem to help. I can’t make my limbs work. I can’t feel… anything. The heat of this place is now lost on me.
But I do register the hands that eventually grip me.
“This way, smithy,” Strax says. “You’ll need a full night’s rest before starting work tomorrow.”
“Kellyn,” I say, trying to get his attention, even as I’m dragged backward.
The mercenary doesn’t move. If I could just get him to look at me so I can see his face. I need to know he’s okay. In pain, of course, but okay.
But he doesn’t turn before they take me from the throne room entirely.
“Someone needs to see to him,” I say, finally daring to speak to the men holding me.
Their grip only tightens, and I try to pull from it.
“Won’t you send someone to help him?” I beg.
“That will depend entirely on how well you cooperate,” Strax answers.
At that, I stop fighting. I place my feet on the ground and walk willingly toward whatever our destination may be.
I recognize it after too long.
They put me in Serutha’s old rooms. Her prison is now my prison.
And Kellyn put me here. He’s bleeding somewhere. I don’t want him to die and I want to kill him myself andcould he stop being so damn confusing!
The door to the rooms closes, and Strax locks me inside.
It’s been so long since I’ve been alone.
But this is not the kind of aloneness that heals and refreshes the mind. I’m in danger, in a strange place. My sister might be dead. Kellyn might be bleeding out.
And I’m alone.
Terrified.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
I collapse to the floor and weep. It’s not long before my breaths come too quickly and the panic takes over entirely.
Helplessness pervades everything. I bang against the walls of my own mind, trying to find an escape. The air is sucked from my lungs, my whole body is on fire, and I’m certain I’m going to die. Eons pass as the walls close in, and everything grows blacker and bleaker.
And then exhaustion takes over.
I don’t sleep long. Of that, I’m certain.
A bag of bricks weighs my shoulders down, and my brain has been replaced with cotton. My eyes are crusty, and every muscle I have is sore and bruised. None of this is consequential, however.
Ravis has Kellyn, and he’s going to use him to force me to work.
Unless he let him die in the throne room overnight.
My thoughts try to spiral out of control again when someone enters my room. A maidservant, dressed plainly in a lightweight dress that shows off her calves and arms. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t say a word to me. She holds a rather large pot in two hands and takes it right to the washing room, dumping the steaming contents into the tub. It takes her several minutes to bring in each bucketful of water.
