Prisoner

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Today, we're going outside."

I looked up from where I was sitting on the sofa in the lounge, slurping out of a juice box.

Ryk had entered the room without much of a sound and I briefly wondered if he just stood there like an idiot before he spoke, but it was hard to tell. He simply smiled, like he was expecting me to jump up and cheer. I curled my lip at his suggestion and looked back down at the magazine I was flipping through. Had no fucking idea what most of it said or referred to, but it was a good way to learn about my enemies.

According to this issue of Demonic Fashion, a company created and run by Hades's son, Malachi, the Hadiferian family had a huge following. A majority of the realms approved of their leaders, and the whole royal family, even something that they affectionately called the Cousins, which apparently now included Six, Three, and Seven.

I rolled my eyes. Fidiots would drop on their knees for anyone who gave them the slightest attention, so it made sense that they fit right in with everyone else. They were also making their way into the spotlight with this issue.

I couldn't contain a choking laugh at the interview with Three.

Yeah. An interview. With fucking Three.

"I love Styx," Three's interview said, "I've never seen so many damn people in one place and not trying to kill each other. It's like everyone is just happy being here. It's fuckin' wild." Yeah, of course Three would be drinking up all that attention, especially in the photo they chose for his interview. They'd dressed him all up nice and fancy like some kind of fashion model and he was posing in an overstuffed chair, one leg folded over the other, this fancy rich man look to him.

I had to admit. He made the rich guy look good. He always had good looks, but the military uniforms never suited him. He looked stiff and uncomfortable. Made sense why the fucker had gotten a lot of strikes for sauntering around in his underwear. He just didn't like the uniform, but damn did he preen and pose like a fuckin' showdog in his new getup.

I went to turn the page to see what Six's interview was like, except suddenly Ryk's hand was reaching down and snatching the magazine from my hands. I cursed, jerking my head up to pin him with a glare that he ignored as he tossed the magazine on the nearby table.

"Joxeia says some fresh air will be highly beneficial to your therapy," Ryk informed, making me roll my eyes, "He wants you to do a lap around the house outside and then meet him in the garden for therapy." Oh great, so now I was being forced to walk around like a fucking dog on a leash, then brought to the garden for the warm fuzzies of a thousand brightly colored flowers.

I almost laughed.

Flowers.

The almighty Hades had a motherfucking flower garden.

What a loser.

Shaking my head, I rolled over and settled down on the sofa, reaching for the remote to the TV.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm going to lay here and watch the match," I responded dismissively, turning the channel to watch the only thing I could find that was somewhat enjoyable. It was some kind of martial arts battle where trained soldiers could actually move up in rank in the military if they kept winning fights. The only downside was that a lot of the fights ended up in death. So it was either die or win a rank. It was highly monitored, which was annoying, but I guess it made sense if you didn't want all your soldiers dying in a dumb fight.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," Ryk said, reaching over to grab the remote, shutting off the TV. I groaned and pressed my face down against the pillow, wishing I could jump up and put his head through the pretty glass picture window that looked over the forest outside. Except I couldn't even get up right away, so I was left slowly pushing myself up and trying to steady myself onto my feet.