Black Blood

-B2- Chapter 38

The black skirt of my dress seems drenched with the icy water. The goosebumps haven't left my skin since my arrival. Just like the goosebumps, the shivers and chattering teeth don't stop for what I think are hours. The sense of time is quickly lost under tens of meters of ground. There is no daylight or clock. Only the rustling of rats over the stone floor, the dripping of water, and occasionally a groan from one of the prisoners.

Despite the cold, I lie with my head against the wall, my legs pulled up against my body, and my arms still tied behind my back, staring ahead at the bars. Sleep comes and goes, grabbing me for a few minutes before the water droplet wakes me up.

I only vaguely remember what happened before my arrival here. Micca, I kissed Micca. The dawn that came to the door and the black eyes that looked at me before it went black.

Elien.

It was Elien who flew in through the crack in the window and helped me into the darkness. I shouldn't have left that night. Novak and Alisha don't know what they did to Elien like I do. He may be young, but he's stronger than he looks.

My eyes shoot open from a loud scream echoing through the dark corridors. The torches are lit, something I missed in my dozing in the darkness. The dark corridors seem to hang in the twilight. Not bright enough to see the back of the cell on the other side, but the water running along the bars can be seen.

'No, no, no, don't do it.' What follows is a loud scream of pain that seems to cut through my bones. Laughter follows the screaming, echoing through the corridors. I close my eyes to shut out the sound of the torture.

'It must be the sound of home, right?' My eyes shoot open as quickly as they closed. That voice, that voice that has been etched into my brain. The voice I tried to wash out of my ears. The voice that still sometimes follows me in my nightmares.

The voice of Christiaan.

The man standing in front of me hasn't changed much in two years. The brown hair is still in the same slicked-back style as before. The same amount of wax, the same color. Only the length seems longer than I can remember. Those dirty brown eyes have the same dark look, his arms crossed in the same position, and even the sickening grin is on his lips.

The only difference I can notice is the amount of muscle. The man was always muscular, but he seems to have gone to the training fields more often in the past two years. Maybe it's a mix of the darkness in the dungeons and his dark blue clothing, but it's hard to see.

The neat dark blue pants are tight around his body, as is the black blouse. It's the dark blue coat that expresses his wealth. The silver embroidery-decorated fabric hangs down to his knees, fastened with silver buttons at his chest. The edges richly decorated and finished with rhinestones. The pins expressing his rank hang from his chest, more than I remember but too far away to see clearly. The large, heavy black boots complete the outfit.

I look at my husband without giving him an answer.

My husband. The title never disappeared, just as it never felt like it.

He lets his eyes disapprovingly roam over my body before taking a step closer to the bars.

'Do you know what? For once, I'll be honest. I didn't expect you had it in you. You've always been stubborn and bad at listening, but staying out of the hands of the army for two years. That's almost an achievement.' Before, I would have looked away, but now I stare straight into the brown eyes while the shouting in the background continues.

The man takes another step towards the bars, just close enough to see the pins on his jacket. He always wore the dark blue one with the silver sword that represents the title of general, and the blue crow for dawn.

The black hand with the eye is new. The symbol of the king's advisor. Formerly worn by Frederick Nimman, who is undoubtedly now rotting in the ground. I never had much contact with the man. He was one of my father's many yes-men.

The last pin is the most striking. The silver diamond. The symbol of the king's reserve. If the man dies, the wearer of the diamond gets the crown in the absence of heirs.

It doesn't surprise me that my father gave Christiaan those titles. He already had both titles when he married me. Now he only has the pins to show them.

'Looks like you've noticed what your departure did to me. The moment you walked out of the infirmary with that blonde slut, everything got a lot better here. Speaking of that blonde slut, you should have seen how many people were in line to see her crucified naked body. People were lined up to see the first dead night rider.' I take a deep breath through my nose to contain my aggression.

'The dragon meat also sold well.' My hands wrap around the chains behind my back. The nausea that comes with the mere idea is barely containable. I don't want to dwell on what happened to Rave for a second.

Christiaan looks around thoughtfully, as if he's looking towards the shouting and thinking about something.

'That blonde brat was a lot less fun in comparison. His name was Viko, if I remember correctly? I do remember the screams during the skinning. He held out for a long time, I'll give him that. There are few who can last eight days. If he had opened his mouth, it might have gone faster, but the poor bastard didn't say a word.' My hands tighten around the iron chains as I clench my jaw.

'The prize for the hardest catch goes to the black-haired one. Unfortunately, he was barely alive when he came in here after a days-long fight with the army. He was gone within an hour of the whipping.' Christiaan is doing this on purpose. He's trying to provoke me and it's not going to work. I won't give him that victory. There will come a time when this man ends up in my hands and dies a very long and painful death.