Page 179 of A Bond in Blood

There was silence on the other side. Or perhaps he could not hear me. I did not know. Not with his shadows blocking everything.

My legs gave out from me while I fell to the ground.

“I hate you,” I whispered, pulling my knees upward.

“I hate you.”

I repeated my words, cradling myself while I rocked in place, and I was unsure if they were directed at my captor or myself.

Death

Judgement

Pain

Wrath

Treachery

My back laid against the cold surface of my prison while words from voices I did not know whispered in my head. Vile, grotesque voices. Tones meant to cause fear.

My body had not stopped shaking, for possibly hours, and my tears had long dried. I had no concept of how long Ulrich had left me in the room. Allowing whatever horrors that filled this space to infiltrate my mind and soul.

I began to wonder if this was a new war in our game. If I had been a fool to believe our battles were ending.

If every possible soft touch and gaze he’d given me in recent weeks had been a ploy to manipulate me. To trap me into becoming comfortable. To allow him the conquest of my body and mind.

There were shouts on the other side of the wall—raised, angry voices—but I could not make out who they belonged to.

My body continued shaking. From fear, exhaustion, or cold, I did not know.

Click.

Hands gripped my arms, pulling me back into the hallway. My eyes closed with relief.

“What is the purpose?”

It was Frode.

“Why your grace?”

I did not look up. I did not want to gaze upon his face.

Ulrich’s presence was muted compared to the presence in the room I’d been trapped in. Feet touched my arm, and I knew it was him.

Silent and watching above me.

“She has to understand,” he replied.

I did not respond or open my eyes when his arms were lifting me into the air. The smell of him was one I had grown too close to. An earthy, smoky scent with a hint of floral. Like the soap in the bathing room. One that brought me comfort when I’d slept in his arms the night before. Or nights before? I was not sure. I only knew the smell now made my stomach turn with hate.

I refused to lay my head on his chest while he carried me away from the torment he had forced upon me. Instead, I allowed it to hang back, my hair a curtain of fire. My body went limp in his grip, my determination to make his trek difficult with my weight.

I kept my eyes closed while he continued to carry me. My mind tried to map our path, tried to pick up on which hallway he took, but I was too exhausted to fully understand.

A door slammed open and scurried feet echoed behind us.

Was it Frode? Atroll? I could not tell.

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