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Claws bite into my upper arms as I writhe in the demons’ grips, snarling and kicking at anything I can reach. My toes skid across the marble floor as I grapple for any kind of foothold, but despite my best efforts, we do not slow down.
I can’t remember the last time I saw anything of what lies beyond the dungeon doors, but now that I’m faced with the sight of the palace yawning open around us, I can’t help the awe and dread that mingle painfully in my belly. The sounds of my struggle against the demons holding me echo off of vaulted ceilings, made louder by the dark stone of the walls and floors.
Hallways wide enough to fit whole armies begin to narrow as I’m led deeper into the palace, the ornate sconces and beautiful paintings adorning the walls becoming fewer before they’re replaced entirely by nothing but cold, empty expanses of stone. The complete lack of extravagance tells me we’re heading away from the main part of the palace, but I don’t know if that’s something I should be glad for or not.
“Keep moving,” the demon to my left hisses, jerking me forward so hard that I lose my footing. I stumble, certain I’m about to fall when the other demon jerks me upright at the last second.
I grit my teeth against the cry of pain bubbling at the back of my throat. I don’t want to give the bastards the satisfaction- they’re stronger than I am and have thwarted my every effort to get away, but that doesn’t mean I have to fall into the submissive role they so clearly expect of me.
We round a corner suddenly and are greeted with a sudden blast of heat and near-deafening noise. Demons of all types move about in the kitchen, chattering and squawking to one another over the clatter of pots and pans.
The smell of real, warm food makes my mouth fill with saliva, my stomach screaming in protest as the demons drag me through the hustle and bustle of the kitchens toward a small, nondescript door on the other side of the space.
Demons fall silent as I pass them, the feeling of all those unnatural eyes pressing against my skin only heightening the fear swirling through me. A part of me wonders if I should renew my efforts to get away, having far more potential weapons available to me here than I did in the hallway, but my desperation to avoid whatever waits for me beyond that door pales in comparison to the fate I’d meet at the hands of this many demons.
I’d be lucky to make it out in one piece- hell, I suppose I’m lucky to still be in one piece.
I swallow the fire raging inside me, promising myself that I’m just biding my time. I’m not giving up, or giving in- I’m lying in wait.
The small comfort that thought gives me dissipates quickly into confusion as I’m shoved past the small door in the kitchen and into the room beyond. A huge, porcelain tub takes up the majority of the space, flanked by a small wooden dresser and what looks to be a vanity, complete with a simple, oval mirror on the wall behind it.
Two servants stand on either side of the tub, and it’s with no small amount of relief that I note that they look far more like people than the animalistic trolvor demons who dragged me here.
The door slams shut behind me, and I only realize that the demons who escorted me have left when their razor-sharp talons on my arms are replaced with the soft, firm hands of the servants within. I start up my desperate fight for freedom immediately, snarling and scratching at the demons, but their hands don’t budge.
Feverish panic begins to swell in my throat as they rip my dirty, ragged clothes off of my body. I fight to try and cover myself, terrified of what they might do, all of a sudden painfully aware of just how alone I am in this room with these two demons. I have half a mind to scream, despite knowing that no one would come to my rescue, but don’t get the chance before the demons thrust me into the scalding water of the tub.
A bucket of water is dumped unceremoniously over my head, filling my open mouth and drowning the scream building behind my lips. I choke, clawing blindly at the demons around me.
I blink the water from my eyes, sputtering and gulping down heaving breaths as I take a good look at my new captors. They are, as I initially noticed, at least more human looking, but when I finally take a good look at their faces my blood comes to a standstill in my veins.
Where their eyes should be, there’s nothing but a deep, empty gouge, as though a shovel was dragged across their eye sockets. Patches of ill-formed, scarred skin stretch blankly over their empty sockets, and a new, feral type of fear grips me.
Are they going to take me to whoever did that to them? Is that what they might do for me?
Primal terror grips me, and I begin to try and fight them off again, kicking and snarling and snapping anytime their hands get near. One of the demons manages to grab me by the back of my head, their long fingers winding into my dark hair and holding me steady.
“Behave,” the demon behind me scolds sharply, as though I were merely a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I scream my frustration, fighting against the hands wound into my hair harder, but my struggle only earns me a sharp, blinding pain across my cheek. Stars dance across my vision, and for a moment, I can only sit stunned in the bathtub.
“If you do not behave, we will be forced to bind and gag you. Do you understand?” The demon snarls in my ear. I nod, trying not to wince at the pounding ache radiating across my face. If they bind and gag me, I’ll have no way to defend myself- so, at least for the time being, I have to sit still.
I only hope another opportunity for escape presents itself before it’s too late.
The demons mistake my sudden stillness for submission, and go back to work, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of my skin and out of my hair. If the circumstances were different, I might actually enjoy getting to bathe- it was a rare treat when I was in the dungeons, and even then, we typically had to use washcloths and the cold, dirty water the trolvor provided in bowls to attempt to get clean.
The blind demons move with a deftness that seems contradictory to their lack of eyesight, never faltering in their movements. I find myself wondering if perhaps they’re able to see by some magic or spell, but it doesn’t matter. They clearly aren’t at as much of a disadvantage as I thought, which just reinforces that my only choice is to bide my time and hope that there will be an opening for escape.
I stew in my own thoughts as the demons pull me from the water, one of them rifling around in the nearby dresser. No one who is taken out of the dungeons ever comes back, at least not whole. I’ve heard the women whisper about what happens to those who are taken, but I never fully allowed myself to consider that those rumors might have substance beyond the terrified whisperings of prisoners.
The King who presides over the demons, King Asmodeus, is rumored to hand out the women in the dungeons to his most brutal and vicious generals. Some women say that they eat the captives they take, and others say that they’re used as breeding stock… but whatever the truth is, I don’t plan to be used for either. For anything, if I can play this correctly.
“Arms up,” the demon by the dresser commands as he turns back toward me. I obey, lifting my arms over my head and trying not to cringe at his sudden nearness as he slides a thin, white gown over my head. The fabric is almost entirely sheer, draping around my body and putting nearly everything on display. The neckline swoops low between my breasts, my pebbled nipples poking through the gauzy fabric.
I wait for his next command, certain that I’ll at least be wearing something over this sorry excuse for a dress, but it never comes. Instead, the demon at my back guides me to the vanity, shoving on my shoulders and forcing me to sit on the stool.
The demon drags a brush through my long, knotted hair, working out the mats as I stare at myself in the mirror. I haven’t seen my own reflection since before I was taken from Protheka, and the difference in my face alone is shocking.
My skin is no longer the golden tan it once was, having sallowed to a sickly yellow color. My cheeks have hollowed out from lack of real nutrition, and the dark purple smudges beneath my green eyes look more like war paint than the badges of exhaustion they are.
