Page 14 of Her Royal Blood

He had no reaction to me, good discipline on his part. He took his job very seriously.

“So I assume you just let that guy come on in my hut?” I continued to barb at him.

“I’m here to make sure you don’t get out. I don’t care if others get in.” He was a man of medium size, but boy was he ugly; nasty scar on his neck, hair coming out of moles, unkempt and foul smelling.

He stared out and didn’t make direct eye contact. He must have thought guarding me was an honor since so little probably happened on the island. I assumed they had their brawls and disputes, but the men and women were too battered and misused; they probably lost all of their fight after a few months of incarceration. That wasn’t going to be me.

“Ah that explains it,” I said and he blocked my path so I couldn’t go anywhere.

“Follow me,” he instructed and I had little choice but to do as he commanded.

The Guard took me to the main hall where other prisoners were seated at long tables crammed up against one another eating some kind of gruel as their morning meal.

“You will get three meals a day, they are served here. If you don’t come to meals on time you don’t eat. Get food then I’ll take you to receive your work assignment, unless you’re killed before then.” He remained stoic and was very optimistic about the prospect of me meeting my end before lunch.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I told him and got in line with the rest of the prisoners waiting to be served a spoonful of slop.

Just as I neared, a prisoner standing in front of a large black cast iron kettle stopped the line and the guard shadowing me put his hand out in front of my chest to make sure I did not advance further.

“This is empty,” the prisoner said, looking at the pot with a few scoops of gruel still clinging to the bottom. “I have to get another.”

The guard minding the feeding line, nodded his head as the prisoner took the pot to the kitchen and the rest of the prisoners stood waiting for him to return. Either the prison guards were sticklers for freshness, or someone was just about to poison my food. No one in any prison that I knew of would let even a few portions be wasted. There was enough food in that pot to feed at least ten more men.

I didn’t say anything while the prisoner went to get a fresh batch. When he returned, I was ladled a generous portion in a metal bowl. It smelled off. Granted oatmeal that had been stored in the damp or heated and reheated over several days did oftentake on a rancid odor, but this was different. It had a nauseating grip that peppered the air as steam wafted up to my nostrils.

The guard followed me to the table where Hawk and some of his friends were sitting. I perched myself at the end of the bench and didn't say anything to anyone as no one looked up from their food. I remembered the warning I’d gotten about making noise, so I didn't say anything until I took a spoonful of gruel and gagged even before any of the vile stuff touched my mouth. It’s definitely been poisoned, but worse, the poisoned meal was being served to other prisoners.

I stood up and dumped my food into the nearby trash bin.

“What the hell are you doing?” My guard asked as I rushed to the serving table and stopped the line.

“This vat has been poisoned,” I said as I muscled the pot of slop to the garbage, dumping its contents into the bin.

“You won’t eat for a week,” my guard told me as I rummaged around in the discarded oatmeal to find the dead animal that had likely poisoned it.

The smell was too rancid not to be rotting flesh and then my fingers, while digging through the slime and ooze, found the culprit as they curled around a long smooth carcass. I gripped it tightly and yanked out the dead animal to show the dining hall a snake as long as my arm.

There were gasps of shock peppered through the hall and those who’d taken a bowl after me dumped the gruel on the floor.

“You’re trying to kill us,” one prisoner yelled at a guard who pulled a bullwhip from his belt and snapped it into the air.

“Silence,” the guard yelled.

I stood up on the nearest bench and addressed the prisoners seated before me.

“I’m Prince Lex Redveign of Navarrah City, heir to the throne. I’m aware of Polonius offering to trade my life for a placein his Crypt Claw army. I want to let it be known that I’m a skilled warrior. I’ll defeat you as I’ve been raised to be lethal.” The guard with the whip made long strides quickly closing the space between us with his whip poised to strike.

“Get off that bench!” he hollered as he moved closer. “I want to see you how well you fight with your back crossed in bloody stripes.”

“Come at me,” I glared at the advancing guard. “I’ll not be diplomatic with the next person who tries to threaten my life. You try to kill me and you’ll find no mercy.”

In an instant a prisoner stood up and broke a plate, momentarily grabbing the attention of the guard holding his whip.

The prisoner rushed at me and hopped up on the bench while the other prisoners seated there cleared away.

“I’ve got you, Redveign. I ain’t stayin’ on this rock any longer,” the prisoner lunged at me with the shard of plate in his hand. “I’m taking Polonius’ offer over yours.”

I jumped off the bench and he followed me down. He took a few swipes with the shard of plate and I kicked my heel into his kneecap sending him crumbling to the ground, using his shock to my advantage I stamped my foot on his neck and he died in an instant.

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