Page 2 of Hopeless Kingdom
When my eyes slowly open, I’m staring right at Darrio. The corners of his lips are turned down, and his steely gaze is filled with worry.
Regret is held there in his beautiful eyes.
Fuck him.
With a jarring movement, my head slams back into Daxdyn’s perfect nose.
Pain soars through my skull but I don’t pause to feel it.
A groan is heard with the sound of a satisfying crack of his nose.
I hope it heals with a slight angle.
He deserves more than just a small flaw on his absurdly gorgeous face but it’s the best I can do at the moment.
He releases his hold on me, his hands coming up to cover the crimson blood that’s gushing from his face. Then everyone on the ship is on me. My legs bend beneath their force. Their strong arms push me face down onto the damp floor. The smell of wood fills my senses as my cheek smashes into the deck.
“Zakara stop struggling. Just stop.” Darrio’s voice pushes past the angry shouts of the soldiers and it only fuels my aggression even more.
My teeth bite down sharply on an anonymous hand. My palm sneaks around the dagger strapped to my thigh and I manage to sink it into a shining black boot.
A stream of curses is all I hear just before one of them threads their fingers tightly through my long blonde hair. Pain shoots through my scalp and it’s all I feel as he flings my head into the deck.
Ryder’s quiet voice hums through my consciousness just as everything begins to blur.
“Trust me, Kara. Just trust me and everything will be okay,” he says. The pleading sound of his voice sounds far off in the distance.
Then my heavy lids close to the blackness.
Chapter Two
A Prince and a Pawn
My eyes flutter open to more shadows, and I blink hard before I realize I’m actually awake. Throbbing pain stings through my skull, and I close my eyes once more. All around me is the beautiful sight of pure nothingness but I know where I am.
It’s easy to identify a jail cell without really trying. The soft pads of my fingertips skim over the floor. My forearms pick up the grit of dirt, and my stomach sinks as I realize they’ve removed the cloth hiding the scars running up the inside of my wrist.
Metal grinds across the uneven brick floor. My hands are unshackled but strange cuffs remain around my wrists. The metal bites into my flesh, weighing my hands. Damp grime crumbles beneath my touch and my palms push down my jeans to wipe the dirty feeling away.
A consistent and shuddering sob echoes through the room. My heart pounds and I don’t want to move. I don’t want the others to know I’m awake. Taking a deep breath, moisture and mildew cloud my lungs. It forces me to clip my oxygen into small sips of air.
I stand and, without making a sound, I trail my hand along the iron bars. The cold feel of it skims across my fingers as my hand weaves in and out of each and every bar.
It’s small; the size of one of Lady Ivory’s walk-in closets.
The important thing is I’m alone. The others are locked away in different cells. I listen closely to try to count the number of cries I hear. Only one. If there are others, they aren’t as weak as the loud man wailing into the night.
My muscles ache with intensity, but I make steady work of going over every inch of this space. Slowly, my fingers skim across each particle of dirt on the ground. When nothing is found, I begin to feel blindly at the smooth bars again.
A weapon.
That’s what I’m searching for.
A loose screw or a sharp rock. If I’m ridiculously lucky a whole bar might wiggle free with a cruelly sharp point designated for Prince Ryder’s little lying heart.
I scoff at my dark thoughts and continue feeling up the bars one by one.
“There are no secret swords hidden away; not in your cell at least.” A smooth, masculine voice that drips with self-satisfaction runs through the darkness.
