It felt like an eternity, holding Christine's body. I could feel the warmth slipping away from her until all that remained was cold and darkness.
When I finally stopped crying, I pushed her off of me. I still remember the sound her body made as it landed with a dull thud on the cobblestones of the dungeon floor. There was some slack on the chains that bound me.
For the life of me, I couldn't stop crying. I cried my eyes out until I passed out—covered in my best friend's blood.
I woke to the door swinging open. The creaks, and the door dashing into the wall, were enough to jolt me awake. Two guards entered, followed by Pike. They didn't even look at me. Instead, they went straight to work, picking up the corpses—including my best friend's. Pike even swept up the place, crushing a few overconfident rats along the way.
"Damn vermin," he muttered. "I hate this job. But it beats being a beggar."
I didn't know who he was talking to.
The guards said nothing.
I couldn't see their faces. Their helmets made them faceless.
I stayed quiet and withdrawn—trying to detach myself from the moment as much as I could. Still, I listened. I watched. Why now? Why clean this place now? I questioned. What could they possibly want?
It gnawed at me, so I finally asked, "Why clean this place? What do they have in store for me, Pike?"
"Oh, she talks," Pike said, looking genuinely surprised with a hint of sarcasm. "You're going to have a guest today. The Baroness ordered us to clean the place up. Feed ya too. But not clean you."
He turned back to the door and, with help from one of the guards, hauled out what was left of Christine.
Once they finished with the rest of the bodies, Pike reached just behind the door and pulled out a plate of food and a wooden cup of water.
If you want to call it food and water, go right ahead. It looked like rotten mutton and limp vegetables, with a side of murky water. Peasant scraps. But I was starving—and even scraps would do to curb my hunger.
I snatched the plate and scarfed it down as fast as I could.
"You shouldn't eat so fast," Pike said. "You'll throw up, and then we'll have to clean this place again. Take your time. No one's going to steal your food. Not even the dogs."
As he said that, I nearly threw up.
The food was revolting—bitter and oversalted. Sure, they were feeding me. But nothing with real value. They wanted me alive, just barely. Weak and on the edge of starvation.
And the water… that was something else.
The cup had little bits of something floating in it—unusual specks, insects perhaps. The inside was coated with a strange residue. I couldn't bring myself to drink it.
But I ate the bowl of food in its entirety. It made my stomach feel good knowing it had something in it.
Pike took the plate from me and the cup, and looked me up and down.
"Smart girl," he said. "I wouldn't have drunk that water either." He tossed it onto the wall, just beside me. "Not to worry, they're not trying to poison you. Well—maybe just make you a little sick, is all." He smirked. The guards grabbed both my chains and stretch them tot taking away what little movement I had.
"Now off we go."Pike and the guards left as quickly as they entered. But this time, they left a torch hanging on the wall, beside the torturous tools. At least I wasn't in darkness anymore.
I could feel the dry blood on my hands, face, and chest. I tried to use my dress to wipe it off, but it seemed to only make things worse. Who could they possibly have come meet me in this place? Did they hire a torturer? Someone with experience in breaking people?
I didn't know what to think, I didn't know how to feel. All I knew for sure was this deep, searing pain from the burned over wound my aunt gave me. The pain was faint if I didn't move, but I had to breathe—and with every exhale came agony. With the light, I could finally see it. It looked puffy, with white pus seeping out of the sides.
Of course its infected. There's no way it wouldn't be.
A few moments passed—enough time for me to rip off a piece of my dress and use it as a bandage to tie over my wound. The pain was intense, searing, as if the fire was still licking the wound while I fastened it around my rib cage.
Soon enough, I heard steps approaching and the door being jostled open. My aunt Lysa came in first.
"There she is," she said, gesturing with her hand toward me. "The lioness you requested."
A man dressed in a black robe walked slowly into the room.
He said nothing at first.
He wore a hood that cast a deep shadow over his face, obscuring his features from where I sat.
"I would speak to her alone."
"Leave us," he said.
Aunt Lysa's disdain for his request was plain on her face.
But even though she was the Baroness—the one who controlled this place—she offered no protest.
Instead, she replied, reluctantly, with a hint of frantic discomfort laced in, "Of course. Take your time. I'll be right upstairs. Pike, leave him!" she said, sternly flashing her head toward him.
"Ye-yes, my lady," Pike answered timidly, as he and Lysa exited. The door closed behind them.
The hooded man stood there, silent, staring at me.
All I could do was stare back.
The silence was finally broken.
"I have come a long way to see you, Justine," he said. "I wanted to offer you a proposal. But it would seem you've fallen quite a bit."
He stepped closer.
I couldn't see it clearly at first, but now I noticed the rhinestones scattered across his robe. They formed strange symbols and patterns—but one stood out the most: two snakes coiled around each other, winding upward, each one looking directly into the other's eyes.
The symbol was embroidered with rubies for snake eyes and other gemstones, gleaming in the center of his chest and trailing down to the hem of his robe.
"I meant to speak to you before you left Austria," he continued, "but alas, I wasn't capable of reaching you back then. When I heard you fought off an entire invasion on your own, I was shocked. The Orwil blood still has some fight left in it—"
He paused, eyeing me.
"—and in the form of a woman, no less. A beautiful one at that. Well, sadly, deeply scarred. At least they did not touch your face, though—possibly deliberate. Let me guess. They wish you to marry her son," he said nonchalantly. "Not a bad idea. Uniting the two of you could solidify your legitimacy, even if it was just a little incestuous."
He approached slowly, and I forced myself to rise to meet him on equal footing.
"Oh, I see it in your eyes," he murmured, burning holes into mine. "You still have fire in you, even after all they've done. Impressive."
"I never thought there would be another from your line with such fire. I met your brother a while back. Good boy, but I suspected he didn't have what it took to truly lead. And when I say lead—I mean it. Leading is a set of qualities that you either have or you do not. Your late brother, I dare say, was not one of those people."
He leaned back and folded his arms underneath the robe.
"I was going to offer you a marriage proposal. To a king on the edge of Europe. He would have treated you far better than your own family ever did, I'm sure of it. But now? I doubt he'd still want to deal with you—not with all these… burns and scars."
He tilted his head.
"A shame."
I narrowed my eyes as he meticulously examined my bruises, scars, and burns. He even moved away what was left of the upper part of my dress to look at my chest.
"God has blessed you so much," he said.
I tried to move away from his hands, but it was futile, me being chained to the wall. "Who are you?" I said.
"Oh, my name is of little importance. But you may call me the Amlock."
"Amlock," I repeated, bewildered.
"Don't fondle me. I am still a lady," I said, moving my chest away as he reached for it.
He stopped, a shocked look written across his face. "I like you, Justine," he whispered. "Even now in your disheveled state, you still resist. I believe you are a proper ally."
"I wish to see you freed…
"But there's only one way that could happen. You must deny this wretched fate of yours. I don't know how but… yes…" the Amlock said in a rather sadistic tone.
"Surely they won't just free you on my request. After all, they did this to grab power. But I know just the thing to get them to comply.
"We will have a Hunt…" smiling from ear to ear as he said it.
With that, he quickly turned and briskly walked out of the dungeon.
"Best get a good sleep tonight, Justine. That is, if your captors allow it."
I said nothing to his advice.
I would be involved in a Hunt. But why? How would a Hunt benefit me now? I was more confused than I was before meeting him. Maybe this will work out in my favor. Maybe…
An hour passed in silence. At least they left the fire on, so I wasn't in darkness, and the place was relatively clean. The smell was finally bearable.
And just when I thought I could start to breathe easy, I heard his footsteps.
The dungeon door swung open with ferocity, Raymon bursting in and walking straight toward me. He backhanded me hard across the face. I nearly passed out from the sudden blow.
"What did you tell the Amlock?" he yelled furiously.
I, cathartically, answered, "Nothing, he—"
"Liar!"
He grabbed the metal studded whip and used the pommel to lift my chin, just so he could look me in the eyes.
"You are defeated. Your people think you're dead. And you deny me? Refuse to marry me? Now an ally is at my door and you seek to win him over with your womanly slights?"
He raised the whip and lashed me across the thigh. I screamed in pain.
The whipping went on for what seemed like forever—him screaming insults and hitting me with enough force to split my skin wide open.
"I will not be made to look weak. I will not be made a fool again by you," he said in blind rage.
When he was finally done, he was exhausted. And I was a bloody mess.
The metal-tipped whip ripped apart what remained of my dress—and left me with cuts all over my body.
I could no longer think or hold onto consciousness consistently. I didn't think it could get any worse—but I was wrong.
Raymon unbuckled his pants and took me as I hung there from the chains.
I passed out before I could see what was next…