Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
“You know I cannot.”
“I know you will not,” I remind him. “Cannot and will not are two very different things. You will not, so you do not get to worry about my virtue, understand?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I am not trying to upset you, princess.”
I bite back a sigh of frustration, hugging the pillow I have on the blanket with me. “I know, Balon. I’m very grateful for your company. It’s just…it’s miserable in here. You can understand me wanting to be free.”
“I know.” Balon pauses. “I will donate to the temples and ask the gods for a sign.”
“Yes,” I say eagerly, sitting up. “Do that. If the gods tell you to free me, you must act.” I want to reach through the walls and shake him with excitement. Maybe he’ll get a message from the gods. Maybe they don’t want me in here, either? Maybe just the thought of me putting myself through this is enough? It’s the slenderest of hopes, but it’s all I’ve got. “Ask the gods for guidance and let me know what they say when you return.” I pause and then add dryly, “I’ll be here.”
“I will indeed ask,” Balon replies. “Just be careful around the Fellian. They are pure evil to the core.”
I think about the unpleasant Fellian somewhere in this tower with me. He’s definitely not someone I’m inclined to spend a great deal of time with. I think the feeling is mutual. The few times we’ve crossed paths, he’s made it quite clear that he despises me. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to be the sacrifice for his people either.
Perhaps he feels just as trapped as I do.
“So,” Balon says cheerfully. “Did I tell you I have a new horse?”
Chapter
Eleven
Hours later, Balon leaves, promising to return in two weeks once more. He professes his love for me and reassures me that he will ask the gods for guidance, and I’m left with that to tide me over. When he’s gone, I get to my feet and pick up my blanket and pillow, folding it and placing it atop one of the many scattered empty trunks I’ve left near the doors. I’ve been here almost a month now.
I feel just as trapped as that first day.
But I have a hope now, however small.
It’s this hope that makes me restless and full of energy. I grab a plank of wood from one of the trunks and my guttering candle, which has melted down to a nub, and head for the kitchens. Maybe I’ll make myself more potion since I’m not ready to sleep. My mind is racing with everything Balon has told me this night. My sister has a son. The war has started and we are winning. He is going to pray to the gods to ask for a sign.
I wonder if I should pray, too. I consider this as I descend the stairs to the kitchens. The fire is out, and I move my candle close by, tossing the hunk of wooden board into the fireplace for future use. I’ve never been devout, and it feels as if it would be insincere if I tried, but tomorrow, I decide, I will devote myself to the goddess and beg her to let me free. I clasp my hands to my chest and bow my head. “Please, please please,” I whisper. “Please, goddess. You don’t want me here.”
A dirty lock of hair slips over my cheek, reminding me that it’s been a while since I’ve washed it. I finger my hair thoughtfully. Bathing has been difficult. For the first week or two, I struggled with getting myself dressed, medicated and fed. There’s been no energy for anything else. I’m settling in now, though, and I’ve been giving myself quick sponge baths with cold water but it’s not the same as a nice, warm bath.
And I’m not ready to go to bed yet.
Excited at the prospect of a warm bath, even if it means a lot of work, I haul the tub out into the center of the kitchen and start pumping water into one of the pots to boil. I hang it over the fire and then eye my tinderbox. It’s nearly empty.
Maybe a cold bath, then, before my candle dies on me entirely.
I pour the water into the tub, then continue to fill it with pot after pot of water. It must be warm outside, because the water itself feels like a tepid bath. It’s surprising, given that the tower stays cool at all times. Because of the darkness and the stone insulating us from the sun? Not that speculating on the weather does me any good. I run my hand through the water, then tug at the laces of my dress, loosening them enough that the entire thing will slide off my shoulders. It pools onto the stone floor and next to go is my sweaty chemise. I kick off my slippers and get into the water, sinking low into the tub. It doesn’t quite cover my breasts and the water is definitely cool and my soap is upstairs, but it makes me feel a little more human again to bathe. I relax and drag handfuls of water over my skin.