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In the silence that followed, I could hear the distant hum of machinery, the occasional whir of a flying vehicle zipping past the house, and the low murmuring of the locals hidden in their homes.
But all these noises seemed distant, inconsequential against the echo of my exposed secret.
Madison heard it, too and gave me a look.
With that, they marched me upstairs to the attic, thefloorboards creaking beneath our weight, their earthy scent filling my nostrils as they ushered me into a small room.
The attic was musty, dust motes swirling in the weak light streaming from a small window.
“Give him the female too,” Onshev said. “We’re not uncivilized.”
Madison was tossed into the room with me.
Dust hung in the air as the door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the silence.
“My estate manager will be keeping watch outside your room,” he said, “so don’t be getting any funny ideas. You have until morning light to make your decision. By then, I hope you come to your senses.”
He dragged Aznai with him, and they headed back downstairs.
I looked around the dim room, my thoughts a whirlwind.
Onshev knew my identity, and he was going to exploit it.
And I, Prince Rurdrax, was his captive, a pawn in his greedy game.
But as I sat there amidst the dust and shadows, I knew one thing.
Onshev had made a crucial mistake.
He had underestimated me, mistaken my royal blood for weakness.
He would soon learn that I was not a man to be trifled with, royal or not.
For now, I had to plan, think, and find a way out of this mess.
And I would.
After all, the game had only just begun.
15
MADISON
Iwatched as Lorik’s usually calm composure unravelled.
His fingers scrabbled against the window’s bars, the metal cold and unyielding under his touch.
The faint light filtering through the window caught the glint of desperation in his eyes, which darted around the room, searching for an exit.
A trace of the dusty attic air was beginning to settle on my tongue, and I tried to swallow it down, but the taste lingered.
“Madison,” he muttered, pulling at the bars with all his might. “I can’t stay here. I need to escape.”
There was something hauntingly primal in his voice, a rawness that I hadn’t detected before.
But more than his evident desperation, my mind kept replaying Onshev’s offhand comment, echoing with implications:
“We both know you can afford it. You and your family.”
