Page 43 of Cruel Prince

“Hello!” This time, when I call out, it’s more of a plea. “Is anyone up there?”

I chastise myself for coming down here. Nothing good ever happens to anyone who goes into a basement. That’s why they always put that in horror movies!

“Hello!”

Okay, Skye, deep breath. It’s just a little darkness. You’ll be fine. Just move slow and steady. Retrace your steps.

I begin to shuffle my feet forward, moving slowly and carefully. My head makes contact with the pipes above, and even in the dark, I see stars. “Shit!” I rub the sore spot.

Okay, go slower. Take your time. Start again.

Shuffle forward, feel around. Shuffle forward, feel around. So far, so good.

The temperature drops and I swear a little breeze tickles my face. Must be the airflow from the doorway.

Too confident, I move faster than I should. My foot catches on something, and just when I think I’ve managed to right myself, I kick my other foot and bang it full force against a hard object.

I go flying, and because I can’t see, it seems like I’m airborne for a long time. My hands make first contact with one of the shelves. I try to grab on, but all I manage to do is push it so that both it and I crash hard onto the floor, and from the sound of shattering glass, I can tell it was all the dinner plates and glasses I passed earlier.

For a while, I stay down, breathing hard, assessing as much as possible the damage I’ve just inflicted upon myself. My palms and knees sting like hell, and if I’m not mistaken, I took a good hit to the ribs.

“Ouch.” I move just a tad and glass crunches beneath me, imbedding itself into my knees. Out of all the days to wear a skirt, it had to be today.

I look upward. Or for all I know, it could be down. At this point, I’m not sure of anything.

“Help!” I cry, hoping one of the guards will hear me.

But what are the odds? There are two doors and a floor between us. I’m screwed.

Think, Skye, think.Unfortunately, all I can think about is the pain and the fact that nothing but willpower will get me out of this.

Ignoring the sting of glass sliding into my flesh, I push myself up. I remain still for a moment, catching my breath, wishing I could wipe away the wetness from my eyes—not that I’m crying, but it hurts like a bitch—yet afraid to accidentally put glass in them.

I try to find my way to the stairs again, this time much more carefully. Every inch I gain is agonizing, and all I can do is pray that my sense of direction doesn’t lead me astray.

The next time I hit something, it’s a step. I nearly slump with relief, but I’m so desperate to get the hell out of here, I don’t allow myself the luxury.

Fast as I can, I rush up the stairs. But when I reach the top, it’s only to find that the door has shut completely. I shove at it, pushing my shoulder against it with all my might. I even resort to slamming my injured palms against it.

“Shit!”

Now I do want to cry, and suddenly, the darkness isn’t just darkness anymore. It’s an all-consuming abyss of nothingness and I’m stuck in it all alone.

“Ahh!” I scream. “Fuck!”

I drop down onto the step and sulk. If God is real, he’s either abandoned me or believes I can handle a lot more than I can and he’s testing me.

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter if I can handle it. I’m in this and don’t have a choice.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Shutting my eyes against the oppressive lack of light, I press my back to the door and heave. Again and again, until I break out in a sweat.

Finally, I hear a click. Something gives, and the door swings open and I’m falling onto the floor at Arran’s feet.

“Fuck!” I hear a second before I’m lifted. I barely have a moment to get my bearings as he rushes to the kitchen with me in his arms. He sits me on the counter right next to the sink, then he’s shuffling through drawers. “What did you fucking do? You’re all fucked up, Skye!”

“I…” I peer down at my hands and legs and discover why he’s so upset. “I fell.”

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