Page 27 of The Book of Legends
After being dragged up what feels like a thousand steps, my body finally gives up. My thigh muscles are on fire, each step sending a dull ache up my spine.My knees threaten to buckle, my shoulders scream from the chains digging into my wrists, and my lungs burn like I’ve inhaled smoke. But I don’t get the satisfaction of collapsing. A shove by a massive guard sends me hurtling forward. The moment my knees slam into the cold, polished wood floor, pain shoots up my ankles.
A growl rips from my throat as I glare over my shoulder at the bull-headed asshole who shoved me. “Bastard.”
He grins, showing two massive tusks, his nostrils flaring like he enjoys the scent of my suffering. “We’re not the only ones that stink, human.”
Then he slams the heavy wooden door shut, the sound booming like a cannon against the high walls. I flinch, the vibration rattling my bones. The echo lingers, a cruel reminder that I’m alone.
I shift and hiss as the metal shackles bite into my raw waist, the skin chafed.
I scan the room; there is a single window. It’s pitch-black outside except for the eclipse of the moons. There are no clouds, only millions of tiny stars with no sign of dawn looming. The room is large. No damp walls. No stench of piss or rotting flesh. This isn’t a dungeon.
The room is beautiful. Black walls loom like shadows, but intricate gold foil accents gleam under the glow of the three eclipsing moons.
A massive four-poster bed sits in the center, draped in sheets darker than ink, so rich they shimmer like crushed velvet. The wardrobe near the far wall is just as dark, its gilded edges catching the silver moonlight from the narrow window.
It should feel luxurious. But all I feel is trapped.
My breath catches, my chest tightening as an image of Lox’s face flashes in my mind. His weathered face, kind eyes. His last words.“Try not to die.”
My fists clench, nails biting into my palms. The dark prince sent him to his death. And for what? For surviving? For helping me? How can a man so devastatingly beautiful be so cruel?And worse, hate his own
kind?I grit my teeth, the exhaustion turning into something sharp and cold when I barely make it to the bed, barely able to kick off my shoes. I groan in relief when my body meets the soft mattress, plush enough to swallow me whole.
The sheets smell like cedarwood and something faintly like spice. The moons shift behind the clouds, casting the walls to glimmer like crystals. My lips are chapped, feeling rough on the tip of my tongue, desperately wanting some water, but I’m so tired I can’t move.
My eyes grow fearfully heavy; only one thought lingers before the darkness takes me.
The dark prince promised he’d hurt me, but I’mdrowning in something far worse than pain.
Somethingcold and wet touches my lips. I shift, my breaths short, and the touch returns. It’s cool and featherlight. My lips part, instinctively seeking more relief. Sitting up with a sharp inhale, my mind scrambles; the last thing I remembered is being shackled, exhausted, and
filled with hatred.
A soft gasp escapes me. My eyes flutter open; behind my glasses, the blurred outline of a figure forms. A young woman stands at the foot of the bed, holding a cloth in one hand and a cup in the other. Her hair is a cascade of fiery red, glowing under the flickering sconces, and her moss green dress clings to her like ivy. She’s stunning. Perfect.
“Who are you?” My voice is gravelly, like I swallowed rocks.
She doesn’t flinch. Her mouth lifts into a smile, as if my reaction is predictable.
“My name is Nieve. I was sent here to make sure you were okay.”
I lift my shackled hands. “Does it look like I’m okay?” My voice drips with sarcasm, the skin of my wrists marred with angry welts.
She doesn’t falter. Her smile widens, as if what I said is no big deal.“I can help with that.”
She places the cup and cloth on the small table by the bed before lifting her delicate hand.
A black metal key materializes in the empty space above her palm, appearing as if the air itself willed it into existence.
Magic.
She tilts her head. “Here we are.”
My mouth opens, the questions fighting for dominance in my head, but I won’t argue. My wrists ache. My body screams. I hold out my bound hands.
The key slides into the lock with a soft click. The weight falls from my wrists like a huge burden has been lifted.
The metal clicks when she turns. “There we go.”
