Xander
Tonight is no different.
Arriving at the last cell, I fight to keep my breaths even as I search the darkness of the small space, working my eyes from left to right and back again, my fingers curling around the hilt of my sword.
The subtle scent of rose clings to this cell now from the soap Tienne gave Bella.
She has accompanied me on almost every visit to check on the shifter, helping her bathe and making sure that her wound is actually healing.
The progress has been slow, but there has been progress.
Even if the shifter has been mostly unconscious this entire time.
Something shifts in the shadowy corner, and I nearly jump back, startled to see her sitting up. “Good, you’re awake.” Relief hits me hard as I fold my arms over my chest. “How are you feeling?”
She snorts, as if the question is a stupid one. Squinting, I lean a little closer to peer between the bars of the cell.
“When you are training to become a murderer, do they tell you that staring at your victims for an uncomfortable amount of time is the first step? Or is that your particular brand of cruelty.”
“Is it a cruelty to be looked upon by me?” I ask her plainly. Her amber eyes narrow, and the hairs along the back of my neck rise.
“By anyone loyal to the king? Yes.” Righting myself, I take stock of what I can see of her cell. Tienne left supplies after each of her visits, but it doesn’t look like Bella has touched them since waking up. “How much time has passed?”
“Since when?”
She grumbles something, an insult I have no doubt, before she scoots closer to the end of the cot, coming more into the faint light from the nearby torch. “Since I was first brought down here.” You idiot gets silently tacked on.
“Just over a week.” Which meant it had been roughly three since Princess Rhea and Flynn escaped.
Realization falls over her as her fingers reach for the hem of the oversized dark blue tunic she wears.
Her moonlight-colored brows dip low towards her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything else. “How are you feeling?” I ask again.
“Has the king come down since the first visit?”
“No. Are you wel—”
“Why are you here, then, and not the king?”
My tongue pushes behind my teeth, annoyance flaring at her avoidance of my questions.
“As you might imagine, a king has more important things to do with his time than spend it in the dungeon.” She lets out a bitter laugh, the sound drawing forth more of my ire.
“Do not think that means he has forgotten about you. Or that he won’t find ways to make you suffer if you don’t give him what he wants. ”
“It’s pathetic how much control he has over you guards.
You can threaten me all you like, Xander, but just as you hold no power outside this dungeon, neither do you have any inside of it.
” The accusation lands pointedly. She will never understand my position.
My sacrifices. I don’t even need her to, but her words still cause something thick and black to congeal in my throat.
The weight of all the choices I’ve made poised to choke me yet again.
Anger rushes to the surface, and the shifter’s eyes land squarely on mine almost as if she can tell.
“Who dressed me?” Her other hand flattens over the dark pants she wears. “I was not wearing this before.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I unfold my arms and bring my hands to my hips. “Tienne helped a little, but you did most of it yourself.” She blinks, her hands stilling. “Do you not remember?”
She swallows and frowns. “The memory is blurry. I remember standing here, and you were near the opening of the cell—” Her eyes widen. “Did you watch me change?”
I jerk my head back. “Of course not.” When the look on her face says she doesn’t believe me, I grit out all the details of what happened from the moment Tienne and I stepped into the cell over a week ago to now. Then, for good measure, I add, “I have zero desire to see you undressed, shifter.”
Instead of the malice I expect, all that I see sweep over the planes of her face is relief. She blows out a breath, returning to running her thumb over the hem of the tunic. “To answer your question, I don’t feel as if I am walking the plank to my death anymore, though my leg still hurts.”
“Good,” I say simply. “Have you eaten?”
She stares keenly at me. “What do you think?”
Fair point. My armor creaks as I adjust my stance, a hand coming to rest on the hilt of my sword.
Bella’s gaze drops to it, her breath quickening.
“I will make sure you are brought food and water daily. A necessity, I will tell the king, in order to get you to cooperate.” It’s a threat as much as it is an offering, and the shifter doesn’t miss either connotation.
Her gaze narrows, full lips peeling back and showing her canines.
It hits me then that I don’t know much about shifters’ abilities in their mortal forms. How much it differs when they turn into an animal.
“Thank you for your kindness,” she mocks.
I shrug, cocking my head to the side. “I’m simply doing what my king bade me to do.” Bitterness once more seeps into me, but I’ve said the lie so many times that I’m able to quell it before it mingles with my guilt.
She sways where she sits and quickly plants her hands on either side of her hips, her nails scratching at the cot’s surface. “Ever the king’s lackey.”
“At least I’m free.”
She lets loose another unamused laugh. “So you say.” Then she is moving slowly down onto her uninjured side, tucking her hands beneath her head as she carefully stacks one leg on top of the other, knees drawing in towards her chest.
“I have questions, Bella.” Silence. “The king demands answers.”
She sighs, tired and pained. “Tell the king he can go to hell.” I grit my teeth together. “And Bella is not a name you have permission to use.”