Page 24 of Bound By Darkness

“Please, I—” His fist collided with my jaw as I gasped for air. Gayle had always avoided my face during my time in the prison.

The sentinel’s fist impacted again, slicing deep. The sting was worse than any of Gayle’s beatings.

“Stop! I don’t know her!” Ellia cried out.

The man tensed his hand as he stood. He left me lying there on the floor as blood dripped from my split lip. “I suggest you keep quiet and answer my questions when I ask. Otherwise, I might not stop next time.”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked back to the entrance. “What is everyone doing? Line up!” he yelled. “Including the both of you.”

Ellia groaned as she lifted her arm underneath mine. “Come on.”

My legs threatened to buckle underneath me as I glanced at her. “I’m… fine.”

Ellia’s eyes softened. “You’re not fine.”

“I would be if you’d follow the rules and keep low.”

Ellia’s lips pursed together, but she said nothing more as we lined up at the entrance. Before we left, she’d already wiped the sweat from her brow four times. My heart bled for her state, but staying near her would kill me, and break the promise I’d made.

I needed to stay away from her if I was going to survive to find Thalia again.

Quietly, while no one looked, I thumbed the necklace I’d smuggled in my pocket, and prayed her strength would pass through it.

Dirt caked beneath my nails as the pickax drove into the solid mass of stone before me, clouds of dust coating my lungs in its vile stench.

Oil lamps lit the underground fortress. It was a massive cylindrical tunnel with no faelight in sight. Not even a wisp of fresh air met the depths at which they had sent me. One incorrect swing and the ceiling above would crush me before I could scream to the gods for favor.

Ellia stood next to me as her pickax barely made contact with the wall. Her swings were pitiful andher cart was only a third full. She’d hardly collected any black material, and her skin was slick with sweat and grime.

“Five minute break!” a sentinel shouted as a cart raced down the makeshift tunnel system.

The cart stopped at the bottom.

Rations.

Prisoners fled to the cart, their chained hands grabbing the limited supply from inside as they fought against each other for an extra pouch of water like a pack of kelpies.

Dropping my ax on the ground, I headed toward the fray. Thirst clung to my throat, begging me to trample those around me as I reached my arm into it.

A man to my left shoved me out of the way, his long arms hauling pouch after pouch to his chest.

I pushed my way back to the cart, my arms straining to reach the bottom?—

It was empty.

Not a pouch or morsel of food remained.

Tears pricked my eyes as I sauntered to my section, my legs collapsing upon arrival.

My stomach and throat screamed their protests, but I had nothing to offer them.

“You… you didn’t happen to grab a pouch did you?” Ellia asked, her eyes swiveling to mine.

“No.”

“By the Mother,” she cursed, her pickax clanging against stone as she sat next to me. “I was hoping there would be something left.”

I nearly scoffed at the statement. I’d give anything to have a sip of water or taste stale bread if it meant the ache in my stomach would stop.

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