Bloodletter: The Lady Killer **ON HIATUS**

Chapter 11

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Chapter 11

At some point - though Resta was unsure when - the guards hefted her off the ground and began carrying her. This was when she fell asleep. When she woke, she was shocked she'd been able to sleep, what with the threat of death and all.

She was woken by her head being shoved against something hard. And curved. Her hands and feet were bound tightly.

The noise of a sharpening blade was audible.

The sack still covered her head, making any understanding impossible. For some reason, there were no voices around her. She'd assumed there would be jeers coming from all around, the cries of citizens happy to be free of a murderer. But there wasn't.

This scared Resta even more. Who would know she was dead? Would Victor ever know what happened to her? Would anyone? She swallowed, and felt her throat pressed against the curved object.

She sat like that for a long time, her sense of dread only growing. Eventually, she became stiff, and her neck ached from the strain. All attempts to ease her soreness were in vain, for she was bound tightly. Time didn't seem to exist where she was now, for she heard nothing besides the blade and saw nothing.

A male voice ripped Resta from her dark thoughts, "Hello, Bloodletter," he spoke her alias like an insult, and Resta immediately recognized the voice as the one who had garnered her confession. "Do you know why you're here?"

Suddenly, Resta knew why the man had looked familiar before. He was one of the King's generals; his name was Halbard. And he was the king's brother.

The man waited, and Resta realized she still had yet to answer his question.

"Today is the day I die." She spoke it with far greater confidence than she felt.

"Perhaps."

Resta swallowed again. She felt the curved object again. This time, she realized what it was. It was to hold up her head when...they decapitated her. Involuntarily, Resta shuddered. She'd heard that sometimes the heads are still alive for a few breaths. How long those breaths must feel.

"But perhaps not."

These words were not what she was expecting. She was baffled, surely, after months in prison, she was to die. There was no reason for them to keep her alive.

"What I'm offering you is a chance for redemption. A chance to live." She could almost hear his smirk. "What do you say? You will be granted full amnesty of all past crimes. Or you could die, or maybe I should leave you to the rats in that stinking cell?" This prince of mystery spoke as though he knew her answer.

Resta answered his question with one of her own. "What does it entail?" She practically choked on the words.

The general guffawed. "I offer you a chance to live, and you question it? If you agree, you will find out everything you need to know." He repeated his earlier question, "What do you say?"

Honestly, Resta was unsure. Did she want to live, if it was as the king's bitch? What did he want with her? If he was willing to allow a murderer to live and ask this of them, then it must be something truly awful. Something that outweighed her past crimes.

Then, Resta remembered what awaited her if she refused. She could still hear the blade being sharpened, as if it wasn't enough already. Resta was a coward; she didn't want to die. Nor did she want to return to that cell - it would be worse than death.

In the end, her cowardice was victorious. "I say...yes." She would have said more, but she could not. Not because of emotions or anything paltry like that, but because her voice had been unused for so long. Those were the first words she'd spoken these past months.

"Excellent." He paused for emphasis. "Your first task is to heal. You have one fortnight. If you are not usable in that time, I shall personally dispose of you."

That was it, she'd just sold her life away. To a king she despised, who ruled a kingdom that despised her. In a sick way it made her giggle. The giggle spread throughout her until her body was shaking from it. It was hilarious.

If they hadn't thought her mad before, they certainly did now.

She was to live. But was it really living if she just traded one set of shackles for another?

Would you rather eat a dog or kill a chicken?