A Story of Blood and Thorns

Chapter 9

We arrive in the capital in the hours before sunrise. I press my face against the bars to see what the capital looks like as we pass by.

From what the dark allows me to see, the buildings here are squat, with dark wood roofs shaped into cones and white paint peeling away from the walls. We thunder over the cobblestones streets, passing by a bridge that crosses a river and ends on the other side, encased in shadows and fog. A tingling feeling creeps up my neck until we clear the bridge.

Isadora snores beside me. The wagon hits a rock in the street and she falls into me, her blade coming free and clanging on the floor. I quickly shove it back into her coat before propping her up. On the other side of the wagon, the rest of the prisoners sleep, except for Sabien. He watches me with a hawk-like gaze as I turn back to the passing city.

As the sun rises, the darkness lifts a little from the streets. Details, such as murals on abandoned streets and water in puddles, become apparent. In front of us looms the palace.

Gardens surround it, a maze of hedges and flowers. The palace arches into the sky and I imagine the sharp points of it piercing the sky. Blue and white swirls decorate the outsource, with some gold scattered throughout. Balconies jut out from the stone. A figure stands on one, a white dress fluttering around it. They watch as we pass under an arch, and disappear as the wagon takes a turn towards the belly of the palace.

Isadora wakes as we slow to a stop. The stench of bodies and their wastes are enough to make me gag. Chains clink somewhere in the tunnels.

The back of the wagon opens. A guard reaches in, his hand grabbing Isadora and hauling her out. Another guard grabs me and clasps me in cuffs. I hear flesh hit flesh and a man gets out of the wagon, his nose bloody.

Once we're all out of the wagon, the guards chain us together in a line. They force metal cuffs around our ankles and necks, so tight that I have to scuffle, or I'll trip. I try to turn my head to the side. The collar stops me before I can move an inch. The guards sneer at us as we're urged along into the corridors of the prison.

"Move it!" one of them barks at me. He prods my back with his sword. "Hurry it up, thorn girl. Or you'll be out in confinement."

As if I'm not already. But judging by the anticipation lighting up his face, I'd rather not find out what he means.

One by one, the prisoners at the back of the line are put into their own cells. Soon, it's just me and Isadora. Sabien is somewhere down the hall, separated from us by a few people.

The guards take me into a cell across from Isadora. "Don't cause trouble," one warns, before locking the door on me.

Isadora throws herself against the bars. "If you touch her-"

"You'll what?" A guard attempts to touch her face and she bites at him. He withdraws his hand, shaking with laughter. "You'll beat me? You'll kill me? With what?"

She brandishes her knife at him. "With this."

"Knife!" the guard yells. The rest of the guards run over to him, drawing their swords. They form a ring around the cell. Isadora waves her knife to keep them at bay while they move in on her. I bite my nails as they advance, barking orders at each other.

"The king's coming!"

A guard rushes down the stairs. He takes in the commotion in front of him. All it takes is a second before he shouts at the men to grab it and shut Isadora up. They comply immediately. One of the guards grabs her wrist, cutting his arm on the swinging blade, and the others rush forward to get the knife and subdue Isadora. They pull her against the bars.