Page 7 of Seized to Sacrifice
He frowned. Why now? The Beast hadn’t escaped his confines since Nyx and Rye had brought him here after finding him in the arenas up north so long ago that the ‘Beast of Kitore’ – whose skills had been unmatched in the most famous fighting rings in the Light Realm – had long since dissolved into myth.
Even now, he could feel the other half of himself unsettled in a way he hadn’t been since the very beginning of their banishment, pulling at the chains he’d forged inside himself when Nyx and Rye had locked him in the dungeon, not letting him free until he was in control of the Beast.
He went into his room, closing the door quietly and sinking onto his bed. What was happening to him? Whatever it was, he couldn’t let the others know or he’d find himself in a similar predicament to the woman downstairs.
* * *
She
Her head throbbed.Fevered nightmares wracked her, and nothing made sense. Her arms and legs thrashed. She could hear someone whispering brokenly, making noises and, at some point, realized it was her own voice that she couldn’t quiet.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was dimly aware that she was very ill. Would she die down here? Would anyone care? Did she have kin looking for her?
She languished in semi-consciousness, trying to remember some tiny shred of detail about herself, but failing.
She opened her eyes and found she was on the floor, the chains gone. She was awake enough to wonder what had happened for a moment, but the thought was quickly eclipsed by how cold she was.
It was day. A sliver of sunlight came through the grate high in the stone wall. A cry came from deep in her chest as she tried to stand but fell back, too dizzy and weak to do much more than sit on the ground and wait for death. She noticed a tray in the corner and crawled to it, finding a crust of bread and some water. The bread she didn’t want. Her stomach revolted at the mere thought of food, but she drank all the water thirstily.
She coughed loudly, and it sounded brittle and hollow. There was a rattling in her chest. She was no expert – at least she didn’t think she was – but it didn’t sound as if she’d survive much longer.
She lay amongst the dirty reeds again though she knew she should move. The slab across the cell would be cold, but dry at least. If she fell asleep down here in the damp and rat shit, she might well never awaken.
But she didn’t have the strength.
She didn't know how long she lay there, but she gradually became aware of someone standing outside of the cell. She doubted she could even lift her head to see who it was, but he saved her the trouble of trying when he began to speak.
‘If you think to garner anyone’s sympathies with this farce, you’re a fool. You'll get none,’ the man from the town drawled. ‘Play act all you want, Elle, you’ll get nothing from us. You already took it all.’ He chuckled and it was a dark and cutting sound that spoke of desolation. ‘There’s nothing left for you to steal from us. Not now.’
She heard his hard footsteps receding. A faraway door clanged shut and she was alone again.
Elle.
She tried out the name in her mind, mumbled it aloud. But it didn't feel familiar to her. Nothing here did; not the fortress nor the men holding her captive.
That wasn’t her name. Wouldn’t she know if it was? She’d had some tiny hope that theydidknow her. Even if they hated her, they’d at least be able to tell her something about herself. But she wasn't who they thought.
The next time one of them came, she would explain that they had the wrong woman. She would make them understand.
She lay on the floor until the sliver of light had made its way all the way across the cell and began to fade.
Someone was there. It took all of her energy to open her eyes and when she did, she saw the third man. The one who had taken her by the throat before and threatened to throttle her. The one with the chiseled features and broad chest, the thick, dark hair plaited away from his green eyes. Aye, she’d noticed all three of them well enough while they’d been pushing her around their hall, each one as cruel as he was beautiful. Was this one here to put her out of her misery?
‘Please,’ she whispered, but it came out as an indiscernible whimper. She coughed. ‘Please,’ she said more loudly, putting everything into making herself heard.
But all he did was stare, his face impossible to read, and her head fell back to the floor. She closed her eyes again.
‘Not her,’ she whispered with the last of her strength, willing this man to believe her. ‘I'm not her.’
‘What?’ he asked. ‘What do you mewl there on the floor?’
He entered the cell and crouched over her.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘whoever you think I am … not her …’
She sank into nothingness and when she woke later, she felt a little warmer. She realized that there was a blanket over her, and she was now lying on the dry slab. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, she wrapped herself in it like a cocoon though the shivers did not abate.
* * *
