Page 10 of Ruthless Monsters

Nate jumps up from the cot, and he grabs one of the trays before getting comfortable on the bed again. I can’t say the food looks appetizing, but I grab one of the trays for myself, and Prince Callan does the same. Alaric doesn’t move from where he sits.

I find my position on the floor again, and I stir the plate of gray mush with my wooden spoon, unable to bring myself to put any of it into my mouth.

“Tastes like wood shavin’s,” Nate says through a mouthful of food. “You’re gonna want to eat. We’ll need our strength.”

“Unless it’s poison,” Alaric warns gruffly.

Nate shrugs. “Could be. But I doubt it. If they’d wanted us dead, they would’ve ended us when we first came through that portal and were unconscious.”

I still can’t convince myself to bring the disgusting gloop to my lips.

“He’s right,” an unfamiliar masculine voice says. “It’s not poisoned.” It takes me a moment to realize the sound is coming from a small grate on the bottom right wall beneath the cot. Laughter comes from the guards across the tunnel, and I share a look with Nate before moving closer to the right wall of the cell.

“Who is this, and why should we believe you?” I ask.

There’s a dry chuckle. “You shouldn’t,” the voice replies, only answering my second question.

Nate places his tray of food down and frowns. “Fuck, now even I’ve lost my appetite.”

The chuckle comes again, raspy and weak.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re the prince we saw today?” I drawl, assuming that we must be talking to the male prisoner who was whipped mercilessly by the guards.

There’s a beat of silence, but then our new friend replies. “I was.”

“And I’m also going to presume that you shouldn’t be talking to us,” I add.

“Correct, again,” the prince replies. “But provided you don’t call the guards over, we should be just fine.”

None of us ask why he’s risking talking to us. We could use all the information we can get. Even if we can’t trust it.

“So, prince of what, exactly?” Prince Callan asks coldly. “Or,where,I should say.”

There’s another pause before the prince finally replies, “You’re in The Haven.”

“Sorry, but did you say haven? I think that word must have a different meanin’ for our kind, because this doesn’t look like a haven to me,” Nate jokes.

“Trust me, it doesn’t look like this everywhere,” the prince replies. “While it can’t compare to the old city, even I have to admit that what he created is beautiful.”

I feel a little relieved to hear that. If that’s the case, then maybe my princess is being held somewhere nicer than this prison.

“You said ‘he’ created,” Alaric growls. “Who is this creator?”

“Hmm don’t let him hear you call him ‘the creator,’” the stranger replies. “He’d like that too much. But I’m referring to King Celzar. Ruler of The Haven and monarch to the remaining inhabitants of Perstalia.”

Nate lets out a low whistle. “Perstalia? So, some of you survived the blast?”

“Some of us survived,” the prince agrees. “Others, thrived.” There’s bitterness in his tone when he says the last part.

“And where exactly are we in comparison to the old Perstalia?” Prince Callan asks. “Are we in a new realm?”

The prince chuckles again. “Celzar likes to think of it that way, but no. We’re simply far below the surface of our old city.”

Fuck.

We’re all silent as we process that information.

Nate is the first to speak again. “Underground, huh? We can work with that,” he comments, going back to eating his food. “We just need to find a way to return to the surface.”

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