Page 53 of Daughter of Shadows and Ash

Time blurred into a meaningless haze.

Consciousness returned only to find me in one of two places: the damp cell or the cold table.

My only markers of time became the irregular deliveries of stale water and moldy gruel, and when Rasher offered his sparse conversation.

His accent and bitter words about the royal family marked him as no Sunnevan.

The cold edge to his voice betrayed his Esmeray origins.

Sometimes I found the provisions waiting. More often, drugged stupor clouded my mind during their visits.

A hooded figure brought the rations, their form obscured by heavy black robes, hands hidden beneath thick gloves.

The food and water carried a bitter undertone, and darkness claimed me soon after each meal.

Pride kept me from eating until hunger broke my resolve.

Without sustenance, I'd never find the strength to escape.

Vanya's training had covered torture and capture, but nothing could have prepared me for this systematic destruction.

What would she think of her heir now, trapped and broken?

Though lips remained sealed, my secrets locked away, I could still feel myself losing in this dark game.

Better to die with honor than break under torture. If they gave me a blade, I'd end this nightmare myself.

I've learned my tormentor calls themself the Alchemist. Each session leaves another cut carved into my flesh. The cuts were precise. Clinical. Just deep enough to draw blood for whatever twisted purpose they had in mind. Sometimes consciousness breaks through their potions. In those moments, their ravings about blood magic and gods echo through my drugged haze.

This time, they wanted me awake for their experiments. Cold metal restraints bit into my wrists and ankles. The chain around my throat allowed barely enough room to breathe.

The Alchemist loomed over me, dark satisfaction glinting in their eyes. "Your beloved prince seems in no hurry to find you."

I attempted to jerk my head aside as much as the chain allows, but their words found their mark like poisoned arrows.

"Oh, come now. Surely you've wondered why no one's come for you?" The Alchemist's poisoned words slithered against my skin as they leaned closer to my ear. "After all, your dear prince has been quite occupied. Word is he's already selected a new bride to replace his vanished princess." My muscles tensed beneath the restraints, a slight tremor running through my limbs despite my efforts to remain still.

"You're lying," I snarled, but doubt clawed at my heart.

They produced a scroll, letting it cascade open before my eyes. "See for yourself."

My eyes raked across the parchment, my heart plummeting as I recognized the kingdom's gossip column. There were no demands for my whereabouts, only stories of Oryn and...Ingrid and the idea that she would be taking my place and healing my poor lonely mate's heart. My fingers trembled against the cold metal restraints, nausea coiling in my gut.

"He never truly loved you, you know," their poisoned words slithered through my mind. "He saw the power you hold and sent you to me. To harness such an important gift."

The sight of Ingrid's name made bile rise in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the text away. Tears burned behind my closed lids as memories of our wedding night crashed through my defenses. The tenderness in Oryn's gaze, the warmth of his touch. Had it all been nothing but a beautiful lie?

"Please," I whispered, the word breaking as my resolve shattered.

"Face the truth, Alora. You're alone. Abandoned. Forgotten." The Alchemist's dark laughter echoed through the chamber as they mixed my blood with something that glowed an unnatural blue, their quill scratching frantically across parchment.

"While the Artans possess great power, their blood lacks a certain... essence." Glass clinked against metal as they moved between their vials and instruments.

"But yours..." A glass shattered against stone. "Your blood contains exactly what I need."

"Perhaps the bloodlines must be... merged." Their words sent ice through my veins.

"We'll make her ascend one way or another," they whispered reverently. "All the power of the gods flowing through her veins."

---