Born to be Empress

Chapter 12 - Change of wind

Phaedra's pov:

Several days passed with no word about my imprisonment. Either the Emperor hadn't decided my fate yet, or he'd already forgotten about me. I wasn't sure which was worse. Regardless, being locked up here was wearing on my nerves.

And then there was the torture. Almost every afternoon, they dragged me out of my cell, demanding I reveal who had poisoned the apple juice. I endured the pain in silence, refusing to betray anyone. The tension was unbearable. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. My body ached, and my soul felt crushed. I knew my doom was imminent, and no amount of hope or resolve could stop it.

The isolation only made it worse. The dungeon was silent and suffocating, save for the occasional drip of water or scurrying of rats.

Narcissa had been released two days ago. As she left, she smiled at me, her voice filled with certainty. "Your luck will change soon," she had said. I didn't believe her. Her optimism was maddening, a cruel contrast to my despair.

Since she'd left, my meals had dwindled to nothing but water. It was the Emperor's orders, I was told. After all, what use is feeding someone with a death sentence looming? I could feel the end creeping closer, inevitable and cold.

I had just been dragged back to my cell after another brutal evening whipping when the loud clanging of metal startled me. A guard was banging his weapon against the bars, the sound echoing through the dungeon.

-"Get up, bitch! You have visitors," he barked, his voice harsh and grating.

I didn't move, didn't even open my eyes. Visitors? What did it matter? Let them come. Let them leave. None of it would change my fate.

The guard's voice grew louder, sharper, but I didn't care. Whatever awaited me—another tormentor, a new cellmate—I was too broken to respond.

-"Leave us. Now!"

The commanding tone cut through the air, menacing and firm. My eyes shot open at the sound of Octavius' voice.

-"Yes, sir," the guard muttered, bowing quickly before retreating from the cell.

Octavius stepped closer to the bars, his expression shadowed with worry. "How are you?" he asked softly, his voice heavy with sadness.

-"I've been better, thank you," I replied, my tone dripping with bitterness. His sympathetic gaze fell on me, and I could only imagine how I must have looked—dirty, bruised, my clothes torn and bloodied.

-"I've tried many times to change the Emperor's decision," Octavius said, his desperation palpable. "But to no avail. I'm truly sorry."

-"You?" I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. "You're apologizing to me?"

The High Healer of the Empire was bowing his head in apology to someone as insignificant as me. I stared at him in amazement, unsure how to process this.

-"I am truly sorry," he said again, his voice steady but laced with regret. "I'll try to send someone to treat your wounds."

-"Thank you, but I don't think it's necessary," I murmured, guilt seeping into my tone.

Octavius' jaw tightened as he glanced away briefly, as though searching for the right words. "I'll try again to convince the Emperor to release you."

-"I don't think he'll listen," I said, shaking my head. "He's already made up his mind. He finds me guilty for not revealing the slave's name."

-"Why don't you do it, then?" Octavius asked, his eyes locking onto mine.

-"And condemn someone else to death?" I shot back, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't."