Page 59 of The Throne's Undoing

Myra bit her tongue. She shouldn't have been surprised.

While the king might have shown mercy to the guard before, no one ever escaped King Domitius's wrath for long. It was only a matter of when his ire would be released.

Jaw clenched, Myra squeezed her hands in front of her, and the three walked silently through the halls, taking the same path as before.

The healer, Dr. Thorne, was the first to greet them. He peered at Myra over his glasses, which were balanced precariously on the bridge of his nose. With a humph, he said, "She looks better than the last time, I suppose."

"Sheis right here," Myra spat, her brazenness surprising her.

The healer smirked. "And spritely this evening." He looked at the two guards. "Wait outside."

The guards nodded and turned on their heels. The iron door slammed shut behind them, and Myra startled, her heart thumping as sweat soaked her palms.

"Ready, Dr. Thorne?" King Domitius asked, appearing behind the healer.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Dr. Thorne said with a short bow before disappearing into the room.

The king's smirk sent a nerve-wracking spiral crawling down Myra's spine as he turned around. At least Sebastian wasn't there this time. A small blessing.

The emotions seeping from the room were rancid. Familiar bouts of suffering soaked the air, but something else twisted along with it--something bright yet poisoned.

Excitement.

Myra pressed a hand to her stomach in an attempt to settle the newfound nausea, but it did little to help.

Her other hand began to shake at her side, and she pressed it atop the other, steadying it. She glanced at the iron door that was now closed as sweat saturated the back of her neck. Her leg twitched, her foot lifting from the ground--

"I would think twice before deciding to run."

Myra froze. Her attention snapped to the king before she quickly diverted her gaze, bowing in submission.

She cursed herself for thinking even for a second that she could run and escape whatever awaited her in that room.

Once Domitius had a hold of you, there was no going back.

"My King," Myra mumbled, her voice shaking. "I wasn't--I--"

He scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Save your energy on your pitiful excuses. You will need every ounce of it if you wish to return to my good graces. Perhaps if you are successful, I will even let you see your brother."

Myra gulped, yet hope blossomed in her chest.

"Would you like to see him, Myra?" King Domitius taunted, stepping forward, his toes nearly touching hers.

Myra nodded, unable to utter a word.

He tipped her chin up. "Then you will do exactly as I say," he hissed. "You have already wasted precious time with your dramatics the other day. I will not be made a fool of again. Do you understand?"

She nodded again.

He tightened his hold, squeezing her face. "Good. There is more at stake here than your worthless life. What we are doing will change the course of Ardentol's history--Vaneria'shistory." He released her face with a hard flick and stepped back, smoothing the front of his jacket. "Now, there is no time to waste. We have work to do."

He seized her by the crook of the elbow and pulled her into the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, she gulped as a whirlwind of emotions engulfed her.

Everything from agony to excitement permeated the air, coiling around her limbs and ensnaring her. As it threatened to strangle her, she fought to push through the rising panic.

Dark stains covered the stone walls. From what exactly, Myra could not tell. In the corner of the poorly lit room, Dr. Thorne was rifling through various items on a small metal table: needles, scalpels, perforates, saws, gags, and various ghastly instruments foreign to Myra.

Myra wondered just how muchhealingDr. Thorne did within the castle's dungeons.

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