Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Alfrie
Zara’s hand is still cold as she holds mine. I wish she would leave me. I hate that she came to find me. I hate that she’s seeing me like this. I hate that she’s still so weak and cold and risks getting worse to make sure I’m okay.
Of course, I’m not okay.
My body is bruised and battered. But the aching in my chest will be what ends me.
She told me she’ll get Leer to get me out of the dungeons, but she’s still here tending to me.
She pats my face once more with the wet cloth that’s stained with bloody water.
“Zara, please go and rest. I’ll be fine.
” I’ve never seen her hazel eyes quite so dull. She needs to be in bed.
But she’s scared, and I don’t blame her. I shouldn’t be down here taking the punishment for the evils that Elara committed. I know she’s guilty, and I’ve a suspicion that Hardin has something to do with this. But, I can’t tell anyone.
Why they want Zara dead, I don’t have a clue.
What’s worse is I’m stuck in the dungeons and can’t be sure that she’ll be safe once she walks out of here. I need her to go to Leer so he can protect her. I would gladly take a thousand beatings if I knew she'd be safe.
I lean away from the cloth in her hand, “Please,” I whisper.
She bites her lip, and my hands instinctively flex against the chains, wanting to reach out and touch her cheek. She glances over her shoulder then leans forward, pressing her soft lips to my forehead. The gesture is so small but holds so much meaning.
My heart unravels all over again.
Reluctantly, she stands and calls the guard waiting in the hall. “I’ll bring Leer. And Alix. He can heal some of those wounds.”
I nod, knowing that neither will come if King Hardin has anything to say about it. I wonder if Leer already knows that I’m down here. I would’ve thought he would’ve come here already. Perhaps he truly believes I harmed his princess. Or perhaps he’s finally realized I’m in love with his wife.
I watch as she slips out of the cell and disappears into the darkness.
The guard comes inside and releases the chains from my wrists, giving me a moment to rub them with my hands, before stretching my arms out to my sides as they were before Zara showed up.
My shoulders scream but I refuse to let him see how badly it hurts.
He goes to leave me alone on my knees in the dark, but not before he balls his hand into a tight fist bringing it forcefully to my already bruised cheek.
I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor, and he brings his knee up hard into my stomach.
The wind is forced from my lungs, and I struggle for air.
He takes my hair in his large hand and angles my head up to meet his black eyes. “Oops. You’re all bloodied again.” He drops my head and spits on the dirt next to me. Then he’s gone.
Blood spills from my nose and the metallic taste drips down the back of my throat. I sputter and choke, forcing myself to swallow it instead of inhaling it. I shut my eyes hoping that when I open them again, I’ll be out of here.
If not, I hope they’ll never open again.
Footsteps sound from the corridor. Heavy and determined. I know it’s Hardin before I see him. A small part of me wonders how much torture a body can handle before it simply gives up. I’m sure I’m about to find out.
Keys jingle in the prison door lock and I painfully lift my chin as King Hardin steps into my cell, followed by Elara. The guard closes the barred door behind them and winks at me before making himself scarce.
Hardin circles me, his favorite leather whip at his waist. “You know why you’re down here, Alfrie. You’ll be sentenced to death for the assassination of a princess.”
“She’s not dead.”
Hardin stops his circling and squats down in front of me. “Not yet.” He’s on his feet before I can respond.
Not yet? What the hell does that mean? I need to get out of here. Someone has to warn her—pain rips through my back erasing all thoughts from my brain. The sound the whip makes as it thrashes against my body is deafening.
“As you may have guessed, I’m very disappointed in you.” The whip cracks in the stale air and I arch my back with the impact. “But I’m willing to forgive your crimes. If you give us what we want.”
“Us?” I choke on the word and blood oozes out over my lips.
Long fingers and sharp nails grasp my hair, and Elara’s icy-blue eyes glare at me.
She sneers down her pointed nose. “Show us your true form.” She releases me and lowers down to eye level.
“It would be a shame for the princess to be found dead. Killed by none other than the prince’s most trusted friend.
” She grips my chin in her bony fingers. “I know who you are. Now show me.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” I try to yank my face from her clutches, and her nails dig deeper into my skin like daggers. “What do you want? Tell me, and I’ll do it! Please don’t hurt her.”
Elara releases her grip and stands. “You said he could do it.” She glares at Hardin who hovers behind me, and I prepare for another collision of his whip with my flesh. But it doesn’t happen.
Instead, he stands at Elara’s side, and they scowl down at me. “He can. I’ve seen it.” Hardin crosses his arms. “Fine. If you won’t shift with your own will, then you leave me no choice but to wrest the form from you.”
“I honestly don’t know what you want from me.” My voice is hoarse and gurgles over the blood collecting in my throat. I spit some to the ground, but don’t get the chance to say anything more.
Hardin towers over me, his body now double the size and covered in thick brown fur. A growl starts low in his throat and reverberates the stone walls of the cell as it erupts out of his snout. He’s on his hind legs and sharp claws glisten in the dim light.
He’s hoping the intimidation of his bear form will instigate me into shifting. And I want to. I’ll do anything they ask of me if that means they leave Zara be. But I don’t know what they're asking.
I won’t fight him.
Hardly a fair fight anyway. I’m chained to a wall.
His enormous paw swings forward and the claws tear into my chest with such force, my knees would've buckled if I wasn’t already kneeling. I grit my teeth refusing to cry out or give him any satisfaction that he’s causing me any torment.
“Fight! Shift!” He swings again, his claws catching on my shoulder and ripping open my old wound.
My vision blurs around the wetness that gathers in the corners of my eyes. I squeeze them shut and endure three more violent attacks with his animal talons. Warm liquid soaks my shirt and drops of blood spill down onto the dirt, surrounding me in a circle of red.
Hardin returns to his given shape, and grabs me by my shirt collar, his fist making contact with my face. “Why won’t you fight?” He hits me again. And again. Again. Until my vision tunnels, stars and bright lights dancing around the space.
I guess this is how much torture a body can withstand before surrendering. Hardin grabs my chin in his massive hand and his hideously wrinkled face and black eyes are the last thing I see.