The Queen's Conquer

Chapter 56 : Breakage

I'd just like to say, I sobbed while making these next two chapters.

Listen to "Give Me Love" by Ed Sheeran (the bridge of the song is the best part) if you want to experience the full-on, heart-wrenching episode I endured. I recommend starting halfway through this chapter and the entirety of the next one for the best experience.

Viewer Discretion Advised

Conflagrate • [con-fla-great]
Start to burn or burst into flames.

🖤

~+~

~ Samuel ~

I've been dragged out of that damn cell once more. This time without Xander.

He's been left behind for whatever inexplicable reason. Though I've grown sick of the lack of explanations I've been receiving, it's safe to say—considering my stay here so far—there won't be any in the near future no matter how much I demand them.    

All I remember after awakening abruptly from my endless sleep on that cold stone floor was being hauled out of my depressing prison by several rogues. I didn't bother asking any of them why or what for, either.

Now, I can barely walk on my own as they continue to keep me upright in these narrow corridors. Somewhere between the blurs and motions, I eventually reach my destination: that cavernous throne room. But this time, it's not hollow and lacking life.

Voices of all ages and decibels echo within the space. It looks as though a dinner of sorts is occurring, the tables that were once hugging the rocky walls now evenly spaced throughout the room, lined with long wooden benches where lower ranks seem to be enjoying their meals. And I've been brought into the middle of it all.

I'm filled with mild confusion as I'm taken to the front of the room where a short, empty rectangular table is situated. I'm settled into one of the four high-backed wooden chairs, the structure burning fiercely into my wounds as I relax against it; it's impossible to locate a singular part of my body that doesn't hurt anymore. And I have to consider for a moment if this is another one of Maddox's sick jokes.

I can only guess there have to be at least thirty dozen or so warriors in here just from the incessant chatter. Some of them spare me their vulgar looks, but most keep to themselves.

I grip the armrests of my chair, trying to make up for the rawness of my back. But with my lack of energy, there's barely enough strength to give. The rogues who'd carried me from my cell stand on either side of the wooden seat, attentive and aware of my pain, it seems.

The air quiets for a moment as someone enters. Their protruding footsteps travel through the throne room and meet the other end of the table I'm sitting at. I'm grateful I don't have to look up to know whose eyes are trained on me, but I'm disgusted that his presence has become easily recognizable.

"Carry on," Maddox announces, and the room returns to its lively state.

It's not until he sits in his own seat on the other end of our table when I force myself to lift my gaze through my dirty hair. Maddox looks beastly as ever—no different from our last confrontation. My words remain trapped behind my teeth, worried that I'll waste my strength questioning the reason behind all of this.

Platters of different dishes and pitchers of varying colorful beverages are set on the table before us along with silverware, plates, and glasses. I stare vacantly at the general as I watch him serve himself while one of his rogues pours him a glass of whatever dark liquor he prefers.