The Prison (Book 1)

Bed Rest

I knew there was someone watching me sleep even before I opened my eyes. Perhaps it was my sixth sense that alerted me to the presence's watchful gaze, scanning me from head to toe. I felt it pass over my body like a couple of laser beams, taking everything in.

My eyes shot open as a sudden numbing pain assailed me, making me groan loudly. I felt like a brick wall had collapsed on top of me, burying me under a pile of rubble. Then, the pain focused and began to emanate solely from the right side of my body, beneath my rib cage.

"Ohhh," I moaned and squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, stunned by its intensity.

Why was I hurting this badly? What had happened to me-

It all came back to me in a rush, slamming the breath out of my lungs. My exoneration. Schneizel's disappearance. The arena. The fight. The knife...

I supposed I was lucky to be alive. A little higher and the knife would have pierced my lungs. Then it would have reallyhurt.

First a wounded arm, now a knife wound in less than two months. Thank God I was leaving soon because I doubted I'd survive another month here with my singular talent of attracting mortal danger.

"Call the doctor." Schneizel's gruff voice pierced the silence of the cell, startling me out of my thoughts and practically out of my skin.

My eyes flew open to see that he had been the one watching me from a chair in the corner of the cell.

"Schneizel!" I croaked in an exhausted-sounding voice that grated on the ears. Overwhelming happiness flooded me and I scrambled to sit up despite the pain, wanting to throw myself into his arms.

Our eyes met only briefly before he got up, turned around and left the cell, leaving me alone in it.

I was stunned into silence.

That was not the reaction I was expecting. I'd expected to sit next to me, take my cold hands in his warm ones and kiss them as he told me that I was going to be alright. It was what Schneizel had always done.

Disheartened and anxious, I tried to sit up again when a figure appeared at the door. It was the doctor Schneizel had called for him, dressed in scrubs and carrying a black briefcase. The elderly man stepped into the cell, drew the chair that Schneizel was sitting on close to the bunk bed and sat in it.

"You're finally awake," he commented as he briefly glanced at my lying form and then placed his briefcase on my lap.

"How long was I out?"

The doctor opened his briefcase and extracted a thermometer. "Two days."

I sighed in disbelief. But what did I expect? I'd taken a shank to the ribs; I ought to be glad I'd been out of it for only two days.

"Why aren't I at the infirmary? Or a real hospital?" I asked.

"Once your condition stabilized, it was best for you to return to your cell where Schneizel could keep an eye on you. You have a history of attracting trouble, or so I've been told." The doctor informed me.

I blushed, embarrassed to realize that I had a reputation for being easy prey and accident prone. When I opened my mouth to ask another question, he slipped the thermometer into it, effectively silencing me.

I wanted to ask when Schneizel had gotten back, and where he'd gone. There was so much that needed to be said between us now that I was leaving prison.

Yet what I'd briefly spotted in Schneizel's eyes right before he left the cell scared me a little. It wasn't the usual warmth, longing and borderline reverence I saw in his eyes, but a coldness that worried me. I'd seen a strange iron-clad conviction in them that I'd only ever seen when he was about to do something drastic, like end a life...

Once the doctor removed the device from my mouth, I asked with a thumping heart, "Where has Schneizel gone?"

The doctor gave me a look that said: How should I know where the King goes?

Right.

As if sensing that I meant to get up and find him, the doctor warned, "You need bed rest. Your wound is freshly sutured; you mustn't move and risk re-opening it. I'm afraid the infirmary isn't that well-equipped to handle an internal bleeding."

I sighed. Evidently I was restrained to my bunk and couldn't go find Schneizel. He had to come to me.

****

"Schneizel, is that you?" I croaked as I opened my eyes and was greeted by pitch darkness. It was now the middle of the night, the prison eerily quiet and fast asleep. I'd stayed up as long as I could, counting the steel bars on the door as I waited for Schneizel to return to the cell, but he never did, much to my immense disappointment.

Had he finally returned?

I scanned the room and found him sprawled in the same chair he'd been sitting on before, his long legs extending in front of him. My heart fluttered, nearly beating out of my chest cavity. Once again, I was awash with delight and joy at the sight of him.

"Schneizel!" I breathed, relieved, a small smile stretching my dry mouth.

Even in the darkness, I could easily make out his piercing blue eyes as they stared at me.

"Are you alright?" His voice was distant, cold.

"Y-Yes." His behavior was flustering me.

With his face bathed in shadows, he looked every bit the satanic demon the inmates thought him to be.

I shuddered as I was reminded of my first impression of him the day I met him in this very cell. I'd thought him a dangerous man whom I had to stay as far away from as possible. It didn't take long to find out that my initial assessment of him was true, but he was my dangerous man now.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

I suddenly felt like there was a palpable distance between us. Like something had changed.

Schneizel didn't answer.

"A-Are... Are you okay?"

He looked away.

"What's wrong?" Dread gripped my heart, tightening my chest.

"I..." he began, but stopped. It was clear he had something to say, but it seemed that the mighty King was at a loss for words.

"Tell me," I urged. Unconsciously, one of my hands closed around the bed sheet, as if I was bracing myself for impact. I knew that the only reason why Schneizel was at a loss for words was because I wouldn't like what he had to say.

A figure appeared at the door and it opened for him.

It was Schneider.

When Schneizel saw who it was, he flew out of the chair and grabbed Schneider by the throat, slamming his face into the wall. 

*~~~~~~~~~~*

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