Seventy-three nights after meeting the General
The binds in the empire were not made of metal.
A thick rough-spun rope bound my arms together.
The brig of this ship housed only me. Rotting wood at my feet.
My view was limited to a wall and a locked door.
It was not a cell as much as a run-down chamber.
There were not even metal bars to hold me in.
Who knew I would miss Kanna’s moss-covered stone so much?
I had no memory of being taken aboard. The battle exhausted my magic to a point where I became little more than a doll.
I did not know how long I had been out for.
Daylight did not reach the brig. I had no way of knowing what time it was, or how long I had been on the ship. It was thirst that finally revived me.
The golden-clad commander must have wanted me alive. He left me a tankard filled with water. Dirty and sandy. It was likely rainwater collected on the ship during a storm. At least it was not saltwater. It was life sustaining. I counted my blessings for that.
My thoughts drifted to Axel. His tall limbs stretched out on the battlefield.
Burns coating his arms. The fire left very little fabric of his cotton sleeves intact.
The charcoal bodies of imperial soldiers, fanning out in front of him.
The brave soul who was about to attempt to take the General’s life with a rusty sword, burned to a crisp. Sword deformed. Flesh turned to ashes.
How little I cared for those poor fallen soldiers when faced with the possibility of losing my alpha. I could not muster up regret for saving him at the cost of my own freedom. I would make this choice a thousand times over if given the chance.
Despite the hunger. The ache in my limbs. The friction of the rope against my wrists, scraping off pieces of skin with every move I made. And move I did.
The ship was brutal in its motions. The violent waves rocking me back and forth like a rag doll.
From the bruises that littered my body I knew that even when I was not conscious, the ship was fighting against forces stronger than it could handle.
If it happened for a single night, I might have been on a large ship caught in a thunderstorm.
It lasted forever. The ship could not have been large.
No matter the size, the ship was insignificant compared to the strength of the sea.
There was little chance to restore my magic. To recuperate. Rotting wood was the only earth to pull from, and it was dying. A slow and torturous recovery awaited me if we did not reach the shore soon.
That night was the first time I was awake when the door to the brig opened. There he was. Gangly limbs and broad shoulders. A scent that was distinctly human. Mousy brown hair glistening with grease from our time at sea. The golden armour did not suit him. He was not worthy of wearing such a thing.
“Who are you?” I asked. My throat tickled with disuse after my days at sea.
“I am the Crown prince,” he said. “And you will address me by title.” I raised an eyebrow at him. There was nothing prince-like about him. He was not hideous or monstrous. A common face. Crown prince Victor was a common man. Nothing like the General. Nothing like my Axel.
“Why did you take me?” I asked.
“My father is in need of a new druid,” he said.
He inched towards me. A foul glare on his face. Did he think he could intimidate me? I looked up at him from my position on the rotting floorboards. I would not stand up for the likes of him. His hand reached for his scabbard, resting on the handle of a knife. I frowned at him.
I wanted to talk back to him. To show him I was not scared of him. I coughed.
He laughed. His mouth was a little lopsided. His eyes remained cold. The opposite of the General, who often smiled only with his eyes.
“Cat got your tongue?” He knelt in front of me. His face too close for comfort. His rank breath made me cough once more. He grabbed my chin. His hand was weak compared to Axel, but his grip was still too strong.
I turned my head away from him. Drops of water from the ceiling. A pool of it collecting on the floor. Hot breath on my ear. Lips almost touching my neck.
“So, this is what the rebel king enjoys after supper?” I tried to scoot away from him as best I could with my limbs still tied.
“No need to be scared. After all, the true king needs you alive.”
I spat in his face. I don’t know what came over me. There was something about his smug look that made me want to hurt him.
“Go to hell,” I said. My voice was worn but never gone.
He wiped at his own cheek, then slapped mine. It hurt, but I did not care.
“I suppose you are pretty.” He stroked my swollen cheek with the hand he used to hurt it.
“Don’t touch me,” I said. My voice was raspy, but my words were intelligible.
On my other cheek, another slap. A kick in my stomach. A knife at my throat.
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked. “I thought you needed me alive?”
His hand retreated. The knife went back into his scabbard. He turned away from me. Leaving me once again to rot. Just me and the brig. I preferred it that way. I felt at peace in the knowledge that while the empire lost half their troops, my alpha was alive and well.