Page 13 of A King So Savage

First things first. What were the chances of escaping this cell? Because she wouldn’t waste time hoping Carson would rescue her.

Other than the lamp, she did not see anything useful as a weapon. There was a wooden chair, but it was constructed as sturdily as the table. Both were heavy, chunky pieces of furniture she’d never be able to lift high enough to inflict any meaningful damage, especially with an injured wrist.

Which you brought about on yourself, remember?

Maybe there was something sharp in the bathroom. A razorblade. A nail file. Anything with a pointed edge would give her a small advantage.

When Ava stood, the room spun like a kaleidoscope. Bracing herself against the wall resulted in a sharp pain lancing up her arm.

Snatching her hand back, she cradled it against her chest and closed her eyes until the pain receded to a dull ache. The dizziness eased. Being drugged and injured placed her at a severe disadvantage. No matter. It would not stop her from getting out of this mess.

She continued exploring the cell. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d not eaten since the morning of her abduction. How many days had it been? Two? Three? Not knowing the passage of time filled Ava with anxiety. Her life revolved around punctuality. Schedules. Lists. Calendars. The lack of time awareness sent her adrift.

Floundering and lost.

It appeared no one had entered while she slept. Kingston’s promise of food had not yet been fulfilled. How long had she slept after the doctor administered that sedative?

Making her way to what must be the bathroom, Ava swung open the door and immediately covered her eyes. She needed a second of adjustment and spent a few moments blinking before she could truly see.

The brightly lit room was startling compared to the shadowed austerity of the cell. In direct contrast, this was a huge, luxurious space of expensive ivory marble and gleaming fixtures. A built-in wall niche held thick white towels and various toiletries. An oversized soaking tub stood alone in one corner while an expansive shower built from marble slabs took up a quarter of the entire space. A separate door revealed a private toilet.

It was a bathroom suitable for royalty. And it made no sense it existed within this dungeon.

Stepping to the double sink area, Ava turned the handle and cupped her hand. She drank straight from the faucet. The water was icy cold, which was not surprising. It was also sweetly refreshing and contained no hint of the metallic, rusty taste one might expect.

Splashing her face with icy water she glanced at her reflection in the enormous mirror.

“Oh, God,” Ava breathed in dismay.

Her dark blonde hair was a hornet’s nest of tangles. Within her deathly pale face, her eyes appeared twice their normal size and were hazy with apprehension. A scrape on her chin was a reminder of how hard she’d landed on Kingston’s desk. That uncharacteristic show of temper goading her attack only proved how easily he could overpower her.

And blood was smeared down her neck. Not her blood. His. A sense of pride swelled inside her chest. It was foolish, of course, to think she’d actually seriously injured him with that spontaneous attack, but at least she’d given him a reason to wonder if she would do the same again if given a chance.

Ava cast a longing glance at the shower stall. She quickly abandoned the thought of cleaning herself up. No way was she shedding her clothes. Not when someone could be watching her every movement on a secret camera system.

She could see no evidence of that in this bathroom, but it did not mean cameras weren’t there. It was a worrying thought, but a more pressing matter was making itself known. She must relieve her bladder and the need was growing urgent.

A close inspection of the toilet room did not reveal tiny blinking red lights or anything resembling a camera lens. Not that it mattered at that point. It was either use the facilities or soil herself.

Very quickly and with as much grace as she could muster, Ava tended to business. An almost hysterical giggle escaped her as she finished. That was probably the fastest she’d ever peed in her entire life. Surely, it was some sort of world record, at least among women held as hostages.

When she exited the small room, she hurriedly washed her hands. It was disturbing that the soap carried the divine scent of rosemary and lemons and the hand towel was soft and luxurious.

Why waste such expensive touches in a dungeon bathroom?

Ava shook away those thoughts and got back to the business of escape. A quick examination of the items on the shelves as well as the cabinetry beneath the double sinks only revealed more toiletries, toilet paper, and towels.

No razors.

Nothing appeared suitable for use as a weapon. Unless she removed the tank lid from the back of the toilet. Maybe she could bash someone in the head with it, but the thought of wounding anyone in such a brutal way turned her stomach.

“Stupid idea, Ava,” she muttered. How would she even lift the lid and hold it aloft with her injured wrist? “Stupid.Stupid.”

The only option was the lamp… It would be awkward with only one hand but not impossible.

Ava made her way back to the cot in the cell. Examining the lamp, she discovered it was made of intricately forged iron creating a series of interconnected circles. It mimicked the iron rings embedded in the walls, and that thought made Ava’s hands tremble. The lampshade was creamy ivory and a delicate contrast to the rustic design.

Hefting it up in her good hand, Ava considered the possibility of what she envisioned.

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