Chapter 38
T ime blurred into a meaningless haze.
Consciousness returned only to find me in one of two places: the damp cell or the cold table.
My only markers of time became the irregular deliveries of stale water and moldy gruel, and when Rasher offered his sparse conversation.
His accent and bitter words about the royal family marked him as no Sunnevan.
The cold edge to his voice betrayed his Esmeray origins.
Sometimes I found the provisions waiting. More often, drugged stupor clouded my mind during their visits.
A hooded figure brought the rations, their form obscured by heavy black robes, hands hidden beneath thick gloves.
The food and water carried a bitter undertone, and darkness claimed me soon after each meal.
Pride kept me from eating until hunger broke my resolve.
Without sustenance, I'd never find the strength to escape.
Vanya's training had covered torture and capture, but nothing could have prepared me for this systematic destruction.
What would she think of her heir now, trapped and broken?
Though lips remained sealed, my secrets locked away, I could still feel myself losing in this dark game.
Better to die with honor than break under torture. If they gave me a blade, I'd end this nightmare myself.
I've learned my tormentor calls themself the Alchemist. Each session leaves another cut carved into my flesh. The cuts were precise. Clinical. Just deep enough to draw blood for whatever twisted purpose they had in mind. Sometimes consciousness breaks through their potions. In those moments, their ravings about blood magic and gods echo through my drugged haze.
This time, they wanted me awake for their experiments. Cold metal restraints bit into my wrists and ankles. The chain around my throat allowed barely enough room to breathe.
The Alchemist loomed over me, dark satisfaction glinting in their eyes. "Your beloved prince seems in no hurry to find you."
I attempted to jerk my head aside as much as the chain allows, but their words found their mark like poisoned arrows.
"Oh, come now. Surely you've wondered why no one's come for you?" The Alchemist's poisoned words slithered against my skin as they leaned closer to my ear. "After all, your dear prince has been quite occupied. Word is he's already selected a new bride to replace his vanished princess." My muscles tensed beneath the restraints, a slight tremor running through my limbs despite my efforts to remain still.
"You're lying," I snarled, but doubt clawed at my heart.
They produced a scroll, letting it cascade open before my eyes. "See for yourself."
My eyes raked across the parchment, my heart plummeting as I recognized the kingdom's gossip column. There were no demands for my whereabouts, only stories of Oryn and...Ingrid and the idea that she would be taking my place and healing my poor lonely mate's heart. My fingers trembled against the cold metal restraints, nausea coiling in my gut.
"He never truly loved you, you know," their poisoned words slithered through my mind. "He saw the power you hold and sent you to me. To harness such an important gift."
The sight of Ingrid's name made bile rise in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the text away. Tears burned behind my closed lids as memories of our wedding night crashed through my defenses. The tenderness in Oryn's gaze, the warmth of his touch. Had it all been nothing but a beautiful lie?
"Please," I whispered, the word breaking as my resolve shattered.
"Face the truth, Alora. You're alone. Abandoned. Forgotten." The Alchemist's dark laughter echoed through the chamber as they mixed my blood with something that glowed an unnatural blue, their quill scratching frantically across parchment.
"While the Artans possess great power, their blood lacks a certain... essence." Glass clinked against metal as they moved between their vials and instruments.
"But yours..." A glass shattered against stone. "Your blood contains exactly what I need."
"Perhaps the bloodlines must be... merged." Their words sent ice through my veins.
"We'll make her ascend one way or another," they whispered reverently. "All the power of the gods flowing through her veins."
Their dark muttering grew closer as they approached, brandishing another needle that caught the torchlight.
"Touch me, and I'll ensure you all suffer," I snarled, thrashing against the chains while they loomed above me, lips twisted in a cruel smile.
"Oh little pet, you won't live long enough to try."
The needle pierced my skin like a shard of ice, and liquid fire spread through my veins.
"You're the key I've been waiting for." Their words blurred at the edges as darkness crept into my vision, the potion dragging me down into another imprisoning slumber.
My captors' words echoed through my mind, wearing away at my hope like water on stone. I began to question everything – my memories, my feelings, even my own worth. Each taunt, each cruel reminder of my isolation carved deeper wounds than their physical torments ever could.
In the rare moments of solitude, I'd stare at my hands, willing my shadows to appear. But the magic that had once been an integral part of me remained frustratingly out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke. The emptiness where that power used to reside felt like a hollow cavity in my chest, another reminder of everything I'd lost.
"What's the point?" I murmured to the cold cell, my voice cracking.
"Pardon?" Rasher's deep voice drifted through the silence.
My stomach churned with acid recalling the document my captor had shown me—the one detailing Ryn and Ingrid's involvement, my throat closing with each strangled breath. The memory of his citrus and sandalwood scent turned acrid in my mind, a mockery of everything we'd shared.
The thought of her triumph sent rage coursing through my veins like poison. My nails carved bloody half-moons into my palms as her mocking laughter haunted my thoughts, a phantom sound that refused to fade.
Weariness crushed me beneath its weight, turning my limbs to lead and each breath into a battle.
Freedom became a cruel mirage, shimmering just beyond reach, mocking me with promises it would never keep.
No doubt she was reveling in her victory, celebrating my imprisonment while she claimed what was mine. What should have been mine.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I pressed against the stone wall and gazed at my only ally in this wretched prison.
"What was the point of any of this? The marriage. The mate bond." My voice cracked with bitterness. "If they only wanted to use me, to claim my body, why bother with the charade?"
Nothing made sense anymore.
"They'll tear you apart and leave nothing but scraps," Rasher said, his shadow stark against the iron bars.
"Keep your wits sharp. While there's breath in your lungs, there's fight left in your soul."
I huddled against the frigid stone, a broken thing seeking comfort where none existed. Reality pressed against my closed eyelids, refusing to grant even the mercy of temporary escape.
In that moment, surrender whispered through my mind like a poisoned caress.
The shadows that once answered my call now pressed against me like a shroud, suffocating and cruel. They whispered of failure and loss, of hopes crumbling to dust on my tongue.