Page 163 of Dance of Madness

Maybe I do deserve to be locked in here.

The basement door shudders as it wrenches inward. Nero walks in, not looking at me, a tray in his hand. He walks over to the door of the cage, unlocking it with another heavy metallic clank.

Part of me wants to point out to him the absurdity of even locking the cage, considering I can’t evenreachthat side of it since I’m chained to this one. Or, even more absurdly, locking the door to the basement, as if I’deverget that far.

But I stay quiet as he swings the cage door open and steps in. I try to catch his eye as he moves toward me, but he purposefully avoids my gaze as he drops the tray at my feet.

“Food,” he grunts, nodding at a bottle of water, a bag of pretzel sticks, and a slightly burned piece of toast.

I don’t care how pathetic I look: I instantly drop to my knees and attack the food, almost swallowing the toast whole as my stomach groans in joy. I choke down half the pretzels before I reach for the water. Then I tense as my bladder screams.

“Nero?”

No answer.

“Nero, I have to use the bathroom.”

“Your commode awaits,” he growls, pointing to the bucket.

“Nero…”

His piercing green eyes finally swivel to clash with mine. “What,” he snarls darkly.

“I…I’m not going to use a fucking bucket.”

His lips curl. “Oh, is this not up to standards for a princess like?—”

“It’s not up to the standards ofhumane fucking conditions,” I snap coldly. “May Ipleaseuse an actual bathroom?”

He draws in a slow breath through his nose.

“Fine.”

He walks past me, squatting down to the lock that keeps my chain attached to the bars, and uses a key to open it. He stands again, pulling the chain behind him, tugging it when it goes taut.

I'm on a freaking leash.

“Well?” he mutters.

I stand on shaky legs, walking barefoot after him as we exit the cage. I turn to head for the door that leads to the stairs going up, but Nero tugs the chain, pulling me in another direction.

“This way.”

I follow him across the large basement until he reaches another door and tugs it open on rusty hinges.

There’s a toilet and a sink inside.

I blink and then slowly turn my head to stare openmouthed at him.

“This works?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Yes…?”

“And it was here the whole?—”

“If you’re still mistaking this for the Ritz fucking Carlton,” he snaps, “I’d be happy to pour more cold water over you while you’re sleeping next time.”

I shift my eyes past him, to the bathroom.

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