Chapter 5

Evryn didn't wake up when they first entered the cell. She didn't rise from the sleep she had fallen into until her arm was nearly pulled out of it's socket. A startled scream escaped her lips as her eyes flew open. There was nothing she could do to prevent the shackles from being locked around her wrists. The metal clawed into her skin, a confinement even less forgiving than the iron bars of the cell She was forced to her feet.

There was only one torch lighting the area that she could see, and it was being held by a guard looking considerably displeased. He just watched as the other two guards dragged her out of the cell and down the row of cells. Evryn's shoulders ached from being pulled so hard, but her arms were the least of her concerns. Where was she going? It felt strange to leave the cell for the second time in two days. She had never left before the previous morning. Not once.

Up the stairs. Not the stairs, it was a set of stairs she had never seen before, at the opposite end of the prison from the stairs that led up to the castle. She couldn't make out anything around her. It was an ascension into an unknown destination. A strange sense of excitement coursed through her, not too far off from fear. Perhaps she would have been more afraid if there was a place she didn't want the stairs to lead to, but she could think of nothing worse than the cell she had just left.

When they reached the top, her legs burned from being limply dragged up the stairs. The stone was ravaging her knees and there was no position that she could move them to prevent it The pain was consuming. Nothing else was processing in her mind.

At the top there was a door that, once opened, almost hurt just as much as the journey to it. There was light that seared her eyes to look at. Brighter than she could remember ever seeing. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to open them. The guards didn't stop, they didn't seem fazed. They didn't seem to care. They were accustomed to such light, Evryn supposed most people probably were. It wasn't until they were several feet away from the door that she opened her eyes again.

She was met with blinding white light. She blinked rapidly until it began to fade into something different. White faded into green and blue and gray.

The air moved around her, a flurry of activity. Nothing was still. She was outside. The air had a taste, a taste similar to fresh water. She inhaled as much as she could, sure her lungs would burst from such intake.

Everything was so vivid. She wanted to stop moving, to lie down and take everything in. It was a scene straight from her dreams. Grass a shade of green she hadn't seen in years. Skies so blue she could stare for days.

It was a world that had been as it was for years, hidden from her. A world so intense and complete. Just a staircase away. It had taken Evryn multiple years to erase her longing for such a place. It took her multiple years to forget that the outside world existed, and there it was.

But it was over before she could even make sense of it. The stone walls of the castle closed around her and devoured all of the sunlight. She hadn't even noticed that the pain had left her until, like the stone, it came rushing back. They didn't enter through any main entrance of the castle, it was a small door hidden behind a visually deceiving hill, held shut by a sturdy lock. The guard who held the lantern also held the key. He had no issues unlocking it.

Inside there was a corridor unlike any she had ever seen of the castle. Empty, dark, damp, and uncannily narrow. So narrow that the broad shouldered men in armor had to twist their bodies in order to proceed. The progress slowed as there was no longer an easy way to pull her along. Eventually, the third guard grabbed Evryn's legs, completely lifting her from the floor. Even though she still was being stretched beyond comfort, it was a welcomed relief from being dragged.

Somewhere along the way, she closed her eyes. Darkness seeped into her mind. Darkness and pain, that's all she thought of. There was nothing else. The glimmer of light she had seen was now gone, left behind like it had never really existed. She wondered why people ever got their hopes up, why she had ever gotten her hopes up.

Rejection is a devious thing. To have something taken away that was never really yours even though you had been deceived into thinking that it was. Brutal denial.

She was a live example of rejection. From the moment she left her home for the last time. From the moment she was thrown into her cell for the first time. She was denied a proper life, robbed of purpose. That was, out of all the things that were taken from her, the hardest to endure. She had no purpose. Sitting in that cell year after year had taken away everything she could call her own. Nothing was left of who she was. All that remained was a body that was useless and a mind that could hardly function. It was no life at all, really.

Evryn hadn't realized her consciousness had slipped until it returned. It was a strange sensation. Her limbs felt as if they were floating in thin air. There was no stone in front of her anymore. There were wooden beams stretching out above her. She was lying down and looking up at the ceiling. It was a bed beneath her, such a comfort she hadn't experienced for as long as she remembered. There were no chains attached to her.

"Sit up."

She heard the voice before she saw it's source. But she didn't need to see it's origin to know who it belonged to. A panic seized her, stronger than any cuff ever had. She forced herself to sit up, palms pushing against the mattress beneath her. Everything in her screamed in protest.

Brown eyes met her own. Closer than before.

Suddenly there was a dark evening filled with fear and anticipation. A mighty king before a clueless girl, his features chiseled and amber from the glow of a flame. His mouth was set in a solid line with a pronounced jaw to emphasize it. Mahogany colored eyes studied her.

Those eyes had doubted her then. That king had given the luck of his crown to the boy standing beside her. But not his son. There was another pair of those same eyes in the courtyard that evening, an identical shade. Those eyes must have seen something in Evryn that the king did not. After his father had instructed him to choose, Prince Hadrien had placed his bets on her. He had given her the luck of his crown. Luck that would supposedly allow her to succeed in whatever she was going to be put through.

But success can be defined as many things. The young prince must have had a different definition of it than Evryn.

Was sitting helpless in front of the king of Vendetta success? Perhaps to him it was.

King Hadrien stood just past the edge of the bed frame. His arms were crossed in front of him. The sun rays from a nearby window just caught the edge of his face. He looked at her with a frown. Evryn struggled to keep her composure. With everything breath she took, there was a sharp pain in her ribs during the inhale. Her left shoulder throbbed. Her whole body was too tense. She waited for an explanation.

"Can you walk?" The question took her off guard. Looking down at her legs, she realized she didn't know the answer. They were bruised, cut open at the knees. Nothing had been wrapped around the raw skin. It came to her attention that her knees stung; a sharp, throbbing pain.

"I do not know." She answered simply. She tried to pretend that instead of a king before her, there was just an ordinary man. A silence remained that seemed to buzz in her ear, made entirely uncomfortable by her motionless suffering.

King Hadrien turned and walked towards the window. "Get up and try."

Evryn looked at him. His jaw twitched. The menacing composure he had the day before was dimmed. His chin was held a little lower, his eyes a little softer around the edges. Not enough to detach any of the significance that he radiated, but just enough to suggest that not all of his sharp edges were as lethal as they seemed. She wondered what was different than it had been before.

It took her a moment to comprehend his directive. It felt as if she was controlling a body that wasn't her own. No muscle in her body was eager to make the attempt, but she forced them to try. Any healing beginning in her knees was erased as soon as she bent them to step on to the ground. The bed frame was higher than she anticipated and her feet landed on the carpet with a thud. A sharp breath escaped her lips, louder than she would have liked.

Hadrien turned around to face her once again. He said nothing. Evryn covered her face with her hands, welcoming the brief moment of consuming blindness. She was torn apart from the inside out.

As soon as her feet had slid to the ground. her legs had began to shake. She should have given up then, admitted that she had been destroyed to the point of not even being able to stand up successfully. Surely it would have been believable. Instead, she shifted her weight to the soles of her feet and stood as tall as she could, like it was the greatest accomplishment of her life. Considering the excitement of the majority of her life, it very well may have been.

Just as she moved to let go of the bed completely, she was stopped.

"Answer me this." The king said. "What, just now, motivated you to stand up?"

Why would the king of Vendetta care about her motives? Why would he care if she could walk or not? Why would he care enough about her life to take it away from her? Evryn wanted to scream. She wanted to run, to get away from this king and everything he has done to her. She hadn't looked at him as he spoke, or after he spoke. She let her head fall between her arms, both of which were now pressed into the mattress, sinking into the blankets. She closed her eyes. "I would say that it is the same thing that motivates me to stay alive, Your Highness."

Let him figure that one out. There was a hidden intent behind her reply, though it probably was very obvious. Evryn turned her head to look at the king, she wanted to see his reaction. He had pretended not to understand the previous morning, the question is whether or not he would keep the act going even without other eyes watching. What would he claim to know when it was just her before him?

There was nothing. Hadrien met her gaze, completely unfazed. As if her words had not even penetrated his exterior. No reaction.

Evryn braced herself against the edge of the bed, now looking at the embroidered pattern of the blanket. She waited for his response, expecting something that would put hers to shame. She didn't know what it was like to have a normal conversation, couldn't remember how smooth and effortless it was. All that she was accustomed to was ask and answer, talking with fear of the reply to come. She knew that wasn't how it should've been. But she knew, with the king before her, there was nothing else.

"I like to finish what I start." the king said, with a hint of thoughtfulness in his tone. "That is why I continue with this life."

There was a small tear in the blanket, one that almost certainly had not been before. Evryn had ripped it's threads while she listened.