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I was fine.
I didn’t know how long I would be fine, or for how much longer I would even be alive, but it wasn’t a lie.
And that meant a lot to me, for some reason.
My throat constricted as they stepped into their room, and I felt Namir’s curious gaze sweep over me before the door shut behind them.
Rather than leading me further down that same hallway, Horvis turned and led me back to the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I checked, ignoring the swell in my throat and the stress tightening my shoulders even further than they were always tightened.
“To the third floor. Something tells me that if I put you down here, Espen is going to end up pacing a far-too-visible hallway,” he drawled back.
“So you think he’ll be interested in me.” I didn’t phrase it as a question—I didn’t need to. The man had already given me the answer. I just wanted to keep him talking.
“I think there’s a reason your portion of the prison was full of women.”
Huh.
I hadn’t known that.
Then again, my cell had been enclosed, without a way for me to see anything other than the sky from within the structure. That glimpse of the sky had kept me sane over the months I’d been in the castle.
Horvis and I climbed another staircase, and I remained on guard. After the life I’d lived, it was my default. Always waiting for an attack, always waiting for an injury.
Always waiting for my life to end.
It was a brutal cycle of pain, nightmarish recovery, and constant fear.
The bastardly dream kings certainly hadn’t ever bothered with giving me a break from my painful memories or the miseries of my life while I was asleep.
“Here you are, miss…” he trailed off, and I knew he was waiting for a name. I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of knowing it and informing the king, so I only shot him a smirk and strode into the room.
If Espen wanted to know anything about me, he’d have to come and ask me himself.
I shut the door behind myself, and then collapsed against the thick wood.
My shoulders were shaking, my knees cracking as they collided. Every part of me hurt—and quivered—and throbbed.
A shudder tore through me, and I slid down the floor until I landed on my ass.
I was so, so tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of being angry.
Tired of the sadness and pain that accompanied this life I’d been forced to live.
Tired of the awful memories that constantly assaulted me.
And lonely.
Stars, it hurt to be alone.
I’d had to be the strong one for two decades in that prison. Even after I’d been assaulted, I’d had to be strong. I’d had to hold it together for Vena and Diora, I’d had to act like I was fine and pretend that I believed we would make it out of that hellhole alive. I’d had to pretend that I was consumed with the need for revenge, to act like all I felt was fury toward those who had taken my family from me.
I’d been the coals burning in the wreckage of my family’s home for so long that I didn’t know anything else.
