Chapter 32
MYRA
The room carried many stories, stories Myra couldn't even begin to peel from the bricks and detangle. So much torture had transpired within this cell. In this entire godsforsaken castle.
The pain soaked the ground beneath her. It was so embedded into the very foundation of the castle that Myra didn't know if it would ever disappear.
Some scars were so deep that even when no marks were left, there was no erasing them.
Yet Myra was learning to find comfort in the agony that swathed the cell in shadows. Because, to an extent, the company of the pain wrapping around her was better than the fear and anguish of the living.
King Rian had fought the healer the entire time they were in that wretched room.
But more than that, he was fighting her . After the Frenzian King had screamed and fought Myra's attempts to soothe his mind, Domitius had left disgusted by Myra's failure.
Dr. Thorne and Myra were forced to stay, though. The hours were long and slow to pass. Only when the healer had enough and Myra could barely keep her eyes open as blood dripped from her nose from exertion did they stop. By the time the guards had led her back to her cell, her mind was weary, her limbs exhausted.
She had never encountered such a strong-willed mind before. Every time she tried to soothe his emotions, to break him down, his anger and rage came back tenfold.
To some extent, she was glad that Rian was fighting it, for she did not wish for King Domitius to succeed.
Yet, she did not wish to see Rian in pain either.
Days later, Myra leaned her against the wall, dreading the day the guards would come to retrieve her once she had recovered. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried not to think about the experiments, what became of the Pontian, or what would become of her brother if she failed.
But she had to believe Mynhos was still safe. Because if he wasn't...
Taking a deep breath, Myra attempted to steady herself. She brushed her palms against the rough concrete and focused on the pebbles scratching her skin. She let the cold ground seep into her flesh and fill her body.
She exhaled and counted to four.
Then, she repeated the process.
As she exhaled and her heart rate began to settle, a rattling at the door sounded, jolting her. Her heart thundered in her chest, the panic quickly returning as if it had never left.
She pressed her back against the wall, her nails scratching her palms as she curled her fingers inwards.
The door creaked open, and a guard stepped forward, balancing a tray in his hand. Myra's shoulders dropped, and she quietly sighed in relief.
It's only dinner .
The guard set the food down in front of her. As Myra reached for the porridge and took a small bite, her stomach turned when the door clicked shut and the guard remained inside the cell.
With the bland porridge thick in her throat, she cautiously peered at the guard. The man, however, continued to stare ahead at the back wall of the cell, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides.
Although Myra had not fully recuperated yet, she reached out to his mind, to the emotions at the surface. Fear, concern, and hesitancy tainted her tongue.
"Is there--" Myra swallowed as the guard turned his attention to her.
Although armor covered his form and prevented Myra from identifying him, there was something familiar about the guard and his presence all the same.
She forced out, "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"That depends," the guard said. "Why do you not eat?" he asked, pointing to the bowl in her lap.
Myra blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You have only taken one bite. Are you not hungry?" Concern dripped from the man's words, yet Myra could not understand it. The guards never cared about her well-being, not more than the king made them, anyway.
"I--I do not have an appetite," Myra admitted.
The man nodded. Shifting on his feet, he glanced at the door, his armor creaking.
Then, he did something that surprised her even more: he squatted in front of her. And although Myra could not see his pupils beneath the shadows of the helmet, she could feel his stare boring into her, as if he were searching for something.
She pressed her back further against the wall, sweat beading on her neck. "Why are you here?" she whispered.
His breathing was heavy, and a dense apprehension spilled around him. After a moment, he shook his head. "I shouldn't have come," he muttered to himself.
He pressed his palms against his knees to stand, but something overtook Myra, and she reached for him. He halted, staring down at her small fingers wrapped around his wrist. She didn't know what stupidity had made her do it, but something in his emotions twirled in the space between them that had her reaching out.
The man slowly sunk back down onto his heels. He grabbed the collar of his armor and scratched at his neck beneath the metal, revealing skin rubbed raw.
He muttered a curse under his breath, then removed his helmet entirely.
Myra gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief before she could catch herself.
The captain of Rian's guard stared back at her. The whites surrounding his dark brown eyes were stained red, and the golden-brown skin beneath his eyes was tinted purple.
"Shit. I really shouldn't have--"
Laurince tried to stand again, but Myra only tightened her grasp around his wrist.
"Wait, please," Myra said, the words nearly a plea.
Laurince observed her for a moment. But then he must have seen something within her face, for he sank back down. Still, he remained silent, staring, pondering, hesitating.
Myra might not have known Laurince well, but she knew he cared deeply for his king. If he was wearing an Ardentolian uniform, perhaps there was a reason for him being here other than delivering her food.
Jaw twitching, Laurince's eyes flicked to the door. Dread filled the room as his attention remained on the door for a second too long.
He mumbled, "I shouldn't be here. It was risky to come. Even riskier to show you who I am." He brushed a hand through his short black waves, his fingers shaking slightly as he ran them through the silky strands.
Myra loosened her grip around his wrist and folded her shaking hands in her lap. "Why are you here?" she said lowly.
One of his hands rolled into a fist, his knuckles blanching. "I just"--he took a deep, steadying breath--"I need to know." His determined gaze met hers.
"Know what?" she asked, confused.
"Is he alive?"'
Her lips parted then closed before finally asking, "You do not know?"
Laurince shook his head. "He..." His brows twisted with pain.
Myra knew very little about Laurince and what kind of man he truly was beneath the armor. But she did understand people's emotions, and his fear and pure concern were potent. "You can tell me," Myra whispered.
Laurince rubbed a hand across his face. "The king has been missing from the public eye since the wedding. They said he was injured and then had fallen ill, needing to be isolated. But I saw him leaving the castle and followed. I was surprised to find him taken here of all places. I was even more surprised to learn he was locked in the dungeon. When I discovered that you were being taken there...I had to find out." Laurince wrung his hands together, peering at her. "You have seen him, though?"
Myra nodded. "He is alive, but I cannot say he is well." She swallowed and forced the words out, no matter how hard they were to say or how confusing they were in her mind. "The other man--they took him, and I don't know what happened to him. I do not think he is dead, but I am not sure that is a blessing either."
Laurince's brow creased. "What do you mean? What man?"
Myra, however, held her tongue as she narrowed her gaze. Laurince was the Frenzian king's guard. He had to know the truth. How could he have not?
Was this some sort of trap? Was this another ploy of King Domitius's?
She wasn't sure. Even though she felt no malice or treachery spilling from his emotions, she proceeded carefully.
"Have you been in the tunnels beneath the royal temple in Frenzia?"
"The tunnels?" Laurince asked, eyes narrowing. "What do they have to do with anything?"
Myra pursed her lips. "So you know they exist."
"Well, yes. They're ancient, but they are no longer in use. From what I've heard, they're no longer passable after centuries of decay." He shrugged.
Myra's gaze flitted across his face as she tried to find traces of a lie.
She found none.
Swallowing, she said, "There are creatures that live in cages within the tunnels."
"Creatures?" he repeated.
Myra nodded. "Prince Sebastian and the late king were conducting experiments. King Domitius somehow got wind of it, and now he has begun his own experiments with the prince's assistance."
"Fucking Sebastian," Laurince hissed. "I knew something was amiss when he was the one I saw getting out of the carriage." Laurince shook his head and returned his gaze to her. "Do you know what these experiments are?"
Myra bit her lip. "They tell me very little," she said at last. "Though I fear the results."
"Yet you help them?" he pressed, his gaze turning cold.
Myra shifted uncomfortably and said, "I have no choice."
He scoffed then. "Everyone has a choice."
Guilt wrapped around her throat. She felt sick as she thought of what she had done for the king.
Laurince cocked his head to the side as he observed her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What does he have over you?"
Her eyes widened. "I--I never said--"
"You do not have to. It is written all over your face."
Myra gulped. Then, as she exhaled, she whispered, "My brother. He has my brother."
Laurince pursed his lips, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "He has my king."
Myra squirmed at the mention of King Rian.
"Did you only come here for answers?" she asked.
Laurince observed her for a moment. "Tell me this first: do you agree with what the king is doing?"
Myra looked around the cell illuminated by Laurince's torch. "If I agreed with everything the king did, I wouldn't be here, now would I?" she muttered, gesturing towards the cell around them.
Laurince shrugged. "I still don't know if I can trust you."
"Yet you came in here anyway?"
"Obviously," Laurince said, his gaze narrowed.
"Why?" Myra asked again.
He scratched the scruff covering his jawline. "I...I don't know. I guess I came here because I didn't know who else to go to."
"But you don't know me."
"You have a point," Laurince said, assessing her. "Back home, when you were with the princess, you seemed...caring, kind, honest."
Myra snorted before she could catch herself. All lies.
Laurince raised a brow. "Are you not those things?"
"It's complicated," Myra mumbled.
He hummed as if it was that simple. As if Myra hadn't betrayed everyone she cared about. Then he said, "Most things in life are complicated."
"I suppose that is true," Myra agreed bitterly. "Are you an honest, kind, and caring person, Laurince?"
"I like to think that I am." He pursed his lips and grimaced. "Then again, I was not kind to the man I stole this uniform from, nor did I care for his life."
Myra's eyes widened.
"At least I am honest," he said, lifting a shoulder before dropping it in indifference.
Myra twisted her hands in her lap. To an extent, Laurince had a point. Nor could she pass too much judgment for the wrongs he may have committed to get here. Although Myra had never killed a man or even physically harmed one, she had done heinous things during her lifetime. She was still doing terrible things, things that went against all her morals.
She may have been kind, but she was not a good person. Not in the slightest.
At least Laurince wasn't pretending to be someone he was not. He never claimed to be a good person.
Her gaze swept over the cell. Too many weeks had passed inside this decrepit place. How long would the king keep her locked up? Would he ever let her go? Doubtful.
For years, Myra had looked the other way.
Enough was enough, she determined.
She might not know if she could trust Laurince, but she could at least work with him.
Myra took a deep breath and said, "While I wish I could claim to be all those things, I am rarely honest. I care deeply, but I can be incredibly selfish. I try to be kind, but even though I often try to have the best intentions, I often seem to hurt the ones I love, even if they do not know it."
"You can claim to be dishonest, yet that might be the most honest thing I've heard in a long time," Laurince replied, tilting his head in thought.
His gaze stayed on her, but its intensity became too much to bear. Myra dropped her attention to her hands in her lap.
Then, a hand fell atop hers. When Myra flinched, Laurince retracted it immediately. "Apologies, I did not mean to scare you."
"I..." Myra bit her lip, then released it. "I'm fine."
"It is all right not to be fine, you know," he whispered, his voice more gentle than she deserved. "You are a prisoner."
"For the things I have done, I deserve to be."
Laurince reached out again. But this time, when his hand wrapped around the back of hers, Myra did not jump.
When Myra met his gaze, Laurince offered her a sad, knowing smile. "We have all done things that we regret. But our past does not have to define us if we do not give it the power to do so."
Myra did not know what to say. As she looked at him and the silence spread between them, she wished she could conjure the strength to act out against the king. She wished she could refuse him. She wished she did not have to let her fear consume her.
As Laurince's lips parted, another question on his tongue, a clattering sounded in the distance.
His gaze hardened. "I must go. If someone finds me here..." He shook his head, his words trailing off as he stood.
Panic rose in Myra's throat, and she scrambled to her feet. "Wait!"
He spun toward her, raising a brow.
"Don't...don't leave me here. I cannot..." Tears sprung to her eyes. She hadn't had a conversation that wasn't filled with threats for so long. Gods, how she missed feeling human.
"I'm sorry," Laurince whispered, raising his helmet. "I'll be back. I promise."
But as the door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place, Myra feared that if he ever did fulfill that promise, it would be too late.