Martyred Soul

Chapter 2

I wake up to a pounding skull and aching limbs, making me wish that I were still knocked out. I keep as still as possible because—for one—I don’t know how bad I was hurt and—for two—I need to take in my surroundings before announcing myself awake to whomever I am with. And I am with someone, several someones, because murmuring breaks through the waves of nausea slapping against my brain.

I calm down and slowly take everything in. The inside of my eyelids are a light orange, meaning light.  I also feel heat. Judging by the slightly ashy smell, I must be by a campfire. My arms are above my head and tied together with something scratchy—a rope. My legs are tied together as well. Underneath me is a damp, cold stone. I know where I am. I taste the air and confirm my theory; it’s stale. I’m still in the cavern, but captured.

I take deep breaths, steadying my racing heart.

I need to know who my captors are.

I listen intently to the murmurs around me.

“Prince Simeon, I have prepared some left-over food for the assassin.”

Another voice, “If it were up to me, I’d let the demon starve.”

“But you’re not in charge, I am, and I say we feed her.” This voice is all too familiar.

So in the end, the Prince wins.

But this isn’t the end! It won’t end until I give up and I will not be giving up anytime soon.

Somebody leans down and, with cold hands, opens my eyelids.

My eyes flash into focus on his. It’s the stocky one I punched. With satisfaction, I notice a nasty bruise blooming on his jaw.

He jumps back, stumbles over his feet, and falls to the ground. “Simeon, she’s awake!” He reports, his voice cracking.

My eyes open now, I notice others chuckling at the startled soldier. Most eyes were trained warily on me, though.

I see the Prince by the fire. He has bruising covering both eyes and bruises up and down his arms. There are even multiple bruises covering his shirtless chest. So he hadn’t gone away unscathed.

I curl my lips as he meets my gaze.

“On second thought,” he says, “don’t feed her today.”

My stomach growls, loudly, as the man by the fire tosses the food into the flames.

I take in my surroundings, reaching out past the fire. There are eight tents positioned in a circle around the fire. Most of the men are in the tents, sleeping. Except for the five men with me.

The stocky one stands by me with his hand on his sword. The one on my left, I realize with surprise, is the one I stabbed in the stomach.