Conor left, heading off to Greencloak tower to play hero.
Devin remains at the castle, trapped and frustrated that he failed at his nectar ceremony.
Rache is tied between staying at the tower and finishing her dues or joining Conor at Greenhaven wit...
Rache woke up to the mother off all headaches dancing in her brain. With a groan she slowly pushes herself up into a sitting position. She rubs the back of her head and winces at the bump forming. Looking around she takes in her surroundings.
The floor was grimy, black, and definitely not the best area to be passed out on. The only source of light was a dimly lit candle that illuminated stone walls and iron bars. Standing up shakily to her feet Rache stumbles towards the bars. Peering through the slots she can see no other soul. Lifting her hand off the bar a strange black substance peels off.
Light pours in and Rache covers her eyes from the glare.
"Ah, she's awake," a voice observes. Rache knows the voice but not from where.
"You were out for quite a while," the voice continues shutting the door. Rache drops her hands and sees Zerif grinning through the bars.
"Now I don't know how you bargain with people, but locking them in a cage isn't the way to go," Rache suggests.
Zerif just continues to grin triumphantly, "do you want know where we are?"
"I'm going to go with some fifty shades of grey stuff," Rache answers crossing her arms.
Zerif frowns at that, "sarcasm won't save you now. The correct answer-"
"Wait, I know! Your brain? It's very empty."
Zerif sighs in frustration, "no, we are in the Trunswick dungeon."
"I don't mean to sound rude, oh wait I do, but that's wrong. I've been whipped in the dungeon and this ain't it."
"This is lower underground. If you want out just agree to drink the Bile."
"Nah, boi."
Zerif rubs his forehead, "you are very stubborn."
"Thanks."
"Then you will remain here. Everyday I will return with your one meal until you agree," Zerif turns to leave.
"WAIT!" Rache yells in desperation.
Zerif spins around with the triumphant grin back on, "you will take it?"
"No, I was just about tell you that I hate you."
Zerif growls before leaving.
"Guess that means I skip today's meal," Rache grumbles.
She sits back down on the floor and leans against the wall. There was nothing to do, but wait.
~~~
"I really hate you," Rache says on the third day.
"And she speaks," Zerif answers unfazed by her insult. He slides the tray of food in under the bars.
"I know you're trying to break me, but can I request something other than bread."
"Not trying to break you. Just trying to show that I'm right. It's not just bread, it's also water and rice."
"Exciting," Rache says sarcastically.
"So have you decided?"
"Maybe you didn't notice, but I just told you I hate you. Generally that means no."
"In that case," Zerif says, "see you tomorrow."
~~~
The next day Zerif arrives with just bread.
"This meal looks enticing," Rache says. Zerif doesn't give her a glance before leaving.
~~~
"No," Rache says the second she sees a silhouette in the door frame.
"Alright," Zerif answers before shutting the door and leaving Rache without food.
~~~
Two weeks pass in the same way. Rache receives one meal and always says no. Finally Zerif arrives with something other than a meal.
"Look at what I have," he tells Rache jiggling a set of keys.
"Wonderful," Rache says monotone, "my answer is still no."
"Gerathon has decided that it makes no sense to keep you locked up when it is clear you don't care about your own life," at that Zerif put one of the keys in the lock and turns it.
Rache bolts up and runs to the bars. Zerif leaves the room and keeps the door wide open. Rache slams the cage door open and sprints up the stairs to freedom. The room she enters is the original dungeon at the bottom of the Trunswick home. Grinning Rache takes a deep breath before coughing.
"Freedom tastes stale," she mutters. She opens the final door and takes the stairs teo steps at a time. Rache laughs at the feeling covering her. Two weeks in a dinge cell with only Zerif for company once a day gives a person a new perspective on life.
Rache has a hard time deciding whether to eat a real meal that wasn't bread, sleep on a bed that wasn't made of floor, or wash herself. She decides to clean off the grime she gained first. Passing one of the windows she realizes that it's night out meaning the servant mess is closed.
"I can survive another day," Rache says regretfully. She makes it to her room and wets the cloth. Looking in the mirror she realizes that she can count all her ribs. Once clean she also notices that her clothes don't fit right anymore.
Sighing in relief Rache crawls under the covers and has her greatest sleep yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aye, I really hate Zerif.
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OH HEY WOULD YA LOOK AT THAT IT'S THE NEXT BOOK.
You know what that means! This story is almost over.
