Page 74 of Of Kings and Thieves

The Harrow turned back to Col. “So, my slippery prince, what will it be? Will you bow to me and let your people live, or resist and doom them to a stony grave?”

Col said nothing, but the fury in his eyes promised untold violence. I shared the sentiment.

“Is this enough proof for you?” The Harrow looked at me with a pointed expression. “Or do you need further convincing?”

A roaring sound filled my ears, fury lashing through me. The stone statues stared back with hollow eyes, their agonized expressions forever etched on their faces. Col’s fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

“Choose carefully, Andris,” The Harrow taunted, licking his lips as he savored the torment he was causing. “Your decision will shape the fate of an entire kingdom.”

“Damn you,” Col snarled, fists trembling at his sides.

“I’m afraid I need a clear answer.”

Col looked at me, at the tears running down my face. Even if I had not been captive, I knew he had no choice. “I’ll cooperate.”

Col’s words rang through the courtyard with finality.

“Ah, there’s no need to worry,” The Harrow replied, following his gaze. “As long as you’re a good little king, she’ll remain unharmed. For now. Moredanea, prepare our guest for his new role. We have much to accomplish.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The guards marched me back down the same steps that had brought me to the courtyard. Instead of heading to the labyrinth, however, they turned into a new section, where the stench and filth made me gag, and tiny cells lined long, twisting corridors. The dungeons.

Thrown into a damp cell, I fell onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor. A guard followed me into the cell, and I struggled to gain my feet, panicking at the threat of him.

He took my ruby ring. Immediately, I felt the loss of Col’s presence. Not wishing for anyone to know the ring was of value, I pretended to be upset about the guard stripping me of my now filthy clothes. After barely a backward glance, he left me in nothing but my small clothes.

Disoriented and cold, my breath hitched as I struggled to right myself. I sat up slowly. The musty scent of rot and mold filled my nostrils, forcing me to choke back bile. Every bone in my body ached, but at least I was still alive—for now, anyway.

Col?

My first thought was of him, always him. But he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Our connection was broken. I ached with the loss, wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. If I’d only been able to talk to Col, I could endure anything. But they had taken him from me, as well.

If I didn’t find a way to cope, I’d lose myself completely to fear, and that was not an option. Left alone, I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to hold on to some semblance of warmth in this dank hellhole, and concentrated on the fire of hatred burning bright in my belly.

* * *

I was jolted from my fitful sleep as rough hands seized me and dragged me out of the cell. The two guards gripping my arms were as cold and ruthless as the stone walls that enclosed us. As much as I wanted to resist, I knew it would only make things worse. So, I let them haul me down the corridor, each step bringing a new surge of dread.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Shut up and move,” one of the guards growled, his grip tightening painfully around my arm.

We left the dungeons and moved into the castle. As they navigated the maze of passageways, the walls grew smoother, gilded sconces replaced the flickering torches, and paintings and tapestries adorned the walls. We eventually arrived at a heavily carved door, which swung open to reveal a room more lavishly decorated than any I had ever seen. The air was thick with the scent of roses and rich perfumes.

“Get her cleaned up and dressed,” ordered a voice that made my blood run cold—Moredanea.

She stood by a window, her back to me, as servants scurried to carry out her command. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage like a caged bird, as they stripped me of my soiled small clothes and forced me into a bath. I bit back a yelp as the hot water met my chilled skin, steam rising around me.

“Be gentle, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered through gritted teeth as the servants scrubbed me with rough brushes.

“Silence,” Moredanea commanded without even turning around. I swallowed my retort, focusing instead on enduring the scrubbing that left my skin red and sore.

When they finally deemed me clean enough, the servants wrapped me in a scratchy robe and guided me to a chair. As they brushed and styled my hair into an elaborate updo, I couldn’t help but feel like a doll being dressed up for some twisted game.

“Better,” Moredanea murmured, her eyes raking over me with a mix of curiosity and something far more sinister. I shuddered under her scrutiny, wondering what sort of torture required that I be bathed and dressed.

The gown they draped over me was beautiful—a rich emerald green that would have left me breathless in any other circumstance. But as the final laces were tightened and the last pin secured, all I felt was suffocated. This dress, this room, Moredanea’s presence—they were all just another form of captivity, another chain to bind me.

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