Page 23 of Cage of Darkness
“Never.”
He nodded. “Prisoners are punishednaked.”
There was no way she was taking offher clothes. He’d have to kill her first. “I am not a prisoner. Iam a political hostage. There is a difference between thetwo.”
He readjusted his grip on the cane. “Ican lift up your tunic to expose your back. I can inflict thepunishment there.”
Allyssa nodded, unable to utter aresponse. She turned to face the wall. The soldier pushed her shirtup, revealing her bare skin.
Before she could thinkabout how humiliated she was, there was a softhissand then awhackas the cane struck her back,sending a searing pain through her entire body. She cried out inagony, not expecting it to hurt so severely. There wasanotherhissasthe cane came down again, slapping against her skin. She wanted tofight back, but she knew she was at his mercy. Fighting against himwould only prolong the punishment. And she had the feeling that hewasn’t hitting her as hard as he could.
Anotherhissand then awhackas he struck her skin again.She screamed, her back throbbing with a pain she never knewpossible. Tears poured down her cheeks.Hiss,whack. She cried out, her voiceechoing in the dungeon. Blackness hovered at the edges of hervision.Hiss,whack. Herlegs started shaking. If the soldier hit her any harder, the bonesin her back would break. Neco had told her that the point ofinterrogating or torturing a person was to break them. Until thismoment, she didn’t understand what he meant.
After ten lashings, the Russek soldierpulled her tunic down, covering her back. The fabric felt likecoarse sand being rubbed against her skin. When he unlatched themanacles, she collapsed to the ground, wanting to crawl into ahole. Reaching down, he lifted her up. Without speaking, he carriedher back to her cell, laying her on the straw. A minute later, shepassed out.
Chapter Ten
Allyssa woke up in excruciating pain.Carefully lifting her tunic, she felt her back—it was covered withwelts. Lying on her stomach, she prayed the throbbing discomfortwould lesson soon. At least her parents were safe because ofher.
She had no idea how much time hadpassed since she’d been beaten, or even what time of day it was.The only light in her room came from a small oil lamp encased in aniron cage hanging on the wall. A bowl of mush and a cup of waterhad been placed in her room. The thought of eating was too much,and she drifted back asleep.
***
Time floated by. Every so often,someone shoved food into her cell. She slept, lay awake thinking ofher parents, and slept some more. A voice in her head kept yellingat her to eat so her body didn’t waste away in this hellhole. Nomatter how dire the situation, her mother had never given up, soshe couldn’t either. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up,crawling over to the tray. Trying not to breathe in its awfulstench, she ate the gritty food, almost vomiting several times. Shecouldn’t think about how it smelled like rotten meat—especiallysince there wasn’t any meat in the food. It was best just to holdher nose and swallow. When she finished, she curled her fingers,making a fist, and got to her knees. People had survived far worsethan this. Sitting there crying would do her no good. Her fatherwould insist she get up and fight for herself—right now that meantregaining her strength.
She stood. While her back hurt, itwould heal since no permanent damage had been done. She walkedaround the perimeter of her cell, sweat beading on her foreheaddespite the cold, damp air. After five rotations, she went back toher cot and laid down. That was enough for now.
The next morning, she forced herselfto eat and complete ten laps around the cell. Her strengthgradually returned over the next couple of days, and the pain ofbeing caned began to fade away to a horrid memory. Once Allyssafelt well enough, she started exercising. The days were long. Thenights longer. Her father had been right—the worst part about beingheld captive was the mental aspect of it. She desperately tried tokeep her spirits up so if an opportunity to escape presenteditself, she’d be ready.
***
The interrogator returned. Withoututtering a single word, he took hold of Allyssa’s upper arm,leading her back to the room he’d caned her in.
“Are you going to hit meagain?” she asked.
He didn’t respond as he shoved heronto a crude wooden chair. The floor below the chair was coveredwith dark red, almost black, dried blood. The interrogator liftedher right arm, placing it on the arm of the chair. Then he swung ametal devise around her wrist, locking her arm intoplace.
“What are you doing?” sheasked, panic swelling inside of her.
“You are not interrogatingme,” he mumbled. “I will ask the questions; you willanswer.”
He knelt, taking the chain bolted tothe stone floor and wrapping it around her ankles, securing herfeet to the ground. He stood and took her left arm, locking it tothe arm of the chair.
“Where are your parents?”he asked.
She gulped. Whatever he planned to do,it had to be worse than the caning. Perspiration beaded on herforehead. “I don’t know.”
“What were their plansbefore you were kidnapped?” He picked up some sort of tool, holdingit in the palm of his hand.
“They were at the castlewhen I left. They had no plans beyond sending me to Fren.” Herbreathing sped up.
“Did you sign a marriagecontract with Prince Odar?”
“Why does the queen care?”she replied.
He took a step closer. “Do you carefor Prince Odar?”
“No. Now let me go. I’veanswered all of your questions.” Sweat dripped down her cheeks. Ittickled, but she couldn’t lift an arm to wipe it away.
