The Serpent's Chains

Chapter 22: There's Nothing Special About Me

Sabine

My head throbbed. It was the first thing I felt when I came back to my senses. I blinked my eyes open. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton and blood pounded in my ears.

The men who captured me, they were in the room with me but they didn't look shadowy anymore. They were solid, flesh and blood, dressed all in black.

I tried to move my arms. They were behind me, tied to a chair. I shifted again and found my ankles tied to the chair, too. This wasn't good.

My captors didn't speak but I felt their eyes on me as I tested the bonds.

Other than a single oil lamp on a rickety-looking table, there was no light. I couldn't see any windows which meant I was probably underground or in a basement.

Wherever I was, no one would come looking for me. I was property. If I went missing or died, it would be written off as an asset loss.

The prince hadn't even paid money for me. Why would he think I was an asset worth retrieving?

I was on my own and I would find a way out.

There was no way to remove my collar without my old slave master's hand but if I could get out of here, I could start a new life. A free life.

Twisting my wrists, I tested the knotwork on the ropes that bound me. They were tight but I could move my wrists. That meant I could loosen them.

A prickle of magic went through the air and I noticed my captors looking at each other. There were six of them, probably a team of mages. Hanging around Prince Cole, I learned a few things about strategy. Like how mages used magic to communicate without words. It prevented anyone from overhearing them.

Somewhere behind me a door opened and light streamed in. The door closed almost immediately and booted footsteps approached.

A short figure wearing a cape came around the chair and stood in front of me. They had a mask on.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

Gloved hands pulled the mask off and a pair of brown eyes peered at me from a round, delicate face. Her brown hair was pulled back in a braid and even in the dim light, I could see her brown skin tone matched my own.

She looked... familiar. I felt like I'd seen her before, a long time ago.

That was stupid. There was no way we'd met.

She tilted her head to the side. "Hmm. You're not what I expected."

I furrowed my brow. "Who are you? What do you want?"

On the streets of Vagra, I thought Princess Rosalie was the target. But these mages were almost identical to the ones that attacked me in the garden, only they weren't smooshed. I was sure they were of the same variety.

Two attacks meant I was the target. But why?

"My apologies. I should introduce myself. I'm Cara Sarcon from Stivalia. Second daughter to King Verill."

"The royal family?" I gasped.

"Yes. I've been retracing the footsteps of my sister. Heir to the throne of Stivalia. All my searching has led me to you."

"Me? I'm a slave. I have nothing to do with Stivalia or the royal family."

Cara frowned and studied her fingernails for a moment. She rubbed the tips of her fingers together like she had something on them.

"You wear one of those barbaric collars, don't you? The kind that stifles your magic and forces you to use it at your master's behest?"

I bowed my head and my cheeks stung.