Blood dripped from the princess' shackled wrists as a tear slipped down her cheek. The darkness and silence were absolute.
Veanna shifted on the ground, the cold grip of iron clasping her arms. Hopelessly, she twisted her arms, hissing at the sting of metal against her sore skin. She had no prayer of slipping out of her bonds, and dropped her aching hands back to her lap.
She no longer bothered to scream; choosing to save her energy rather than cry out in vain. If a rescue came it would find her, and she would no longer give her captors the satisfaction of her cries if they were the only ones to hear.
Despite her resolve, rebellious tears refused to halt. She leaned her head against the stone wall at her back and closed her sightless eyes. A dull throb echoed from her temples, her wrists and ankles were worn raw by the chains, and there was a hollow ache deep in her stomach.
Veanna didn't know how many days she had passed alone in captivity already, or whether it was currently day or night in the eternal darkness. All she had to measure time was the rhythm of her breaths, the pounding of her heart, the throbbing of her wounds.
When she heard movement in the dark, she thought she was imagining it. But she did not imagine the clunk of a lock, the groan of hinges, or the blinding light that poured in. Her flash of relief was cut short by the cold tendrils of fear as a figure was silhouetted in the doorway.
"We are ready for you, Your Highness."
VOUS LISEZ
Midnight Moon (The Bleeding Crown Book 1)
Fantasy"I'm going to fight the Order, not cower from them." She sounded steadfast, like abandoning her resolve would bring her closer to death than Faltis had: like a Queen. "Stay away if you like, but I'm doing this, and if you want to stop me, you'll hav...
