The blindfold pressed hot against my eyes as a hand shoved me into a chair. The guard's callused fingers cinched the knot before the cloth fell away. The only thing breaking the spell of darkness was a single oil lamp flickering on a table in the stale, windowless room.
Without warning, the guard grabbed a fistful of hair from behind. I flinched as a curved razor glinted at the edge of my vision. I held my breath as he raised the small blade to my scalp. The cold metal kissed my scalp — a novacula—the same tool the bathhouse groomers used, tugged and scraped against my scalp. Clumps of curls slid down my neck and scattered on the floor. When he finished, I ran a hand over the harsh stubble left behind.
The same man who arrested, blindfolded, and dragged me into this room to shave my head stood to my left, silently smirking. I turned around when the second guard barged into the room. He brushed past me and the scattered curls before sinking into his seat across from me.
The guard leaned forward in his seat, his beady eyes glinting in the lamplight. "How did you get in, Prince?" His glare dared me to speak. A dozen excuses clawed at my throat. The keys were not supposed to work. It was never my idea to break into a prison. I opened my mouth only to catch myself from exposing the name of the person I was trying to protect. Romeus.
My interrogator's tone grew sharper. "How did you get into the prison?"
My voice shook. "Th-through a cave door."
The guard exchanged a glance with the one standing beside me. "So, where did you obtain those keys? And I am not talking about the ones you stole from me?"
His beady eyes almost matched the amber pin on his breastplate. My blood turned cold. Now I remembered the same steely gaze from the hallway. He was the same guard I bumped into in the hallway!
He pulled out a set of keys attached to his belt.
I pressed my lips shut.
"Did you and your little friend have any help from inside? I find it hard to believe you could walk into a locked prison without immediate capture."
I shook my head. How we got in without getting captured upon entry was a miracle. It was then that I realized he was not looking at just me. I looked up at the guard beside me. The dim light barely grazed his smooth but youthful face. He had to be close in age to Barbarius, though nearer to my stature.
Perhaps he was the guard I unknowingly impersonated. Fabius. The name rushed into my head before the young guard's voice snapped me from my stupor.
"I know nothing of this plot, sir. This imposter came before I could arrive for my shift. I was late trying to find my armor he stole!"
The young guard requested to leave, but the seated older guard declined. Instead, he pointed to the shiny novacula resting on the table.
"Thank you, Fabius, but your services are not over until I say it is over. Let this be the last time this happens under your watch, or you will be sharing a cell with Troy!"
The young guard's face fell. But the way his face twisted in rage at lightning speed scared me more than the blade to my scalp.
The seated guard broke the tense air. "I am going to ask you one more time before I give Fabius permission to slit your throat: Where did you get the keys?"
My vision blurred as the blade crept closer to my throbbing throat. I wanted to escape, but any sudden move and the blade would slice my throat open. Tears pooled in my eyes. My voice cracked. "Home!"
The guard behind me pressed the cool blade against my throat as the interrogator sat back in his seat, watching me squirm in my seat. "Who helped you? Besides Romeus."
YOU ARE READING
Domain of Power-The Dreamer (Book 3)
Historical FictionOn one fateful evening, someone comes and takes away everything in an instant from you. Someone is out for blood against the royal family. The oldest son has gone "missing" and Troy now finds himself the next target. On the verge of death, Troy reco...
