What if I told you all the royal wenches from Lios were busy sucking cock down at the barracks?

That’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. There are no “royal wenches” other than myself and my sister, because Lionel had no siblings and Meryliese is dead. but I’ve got enough sense to know that I don’t want to push him. No one here believes I’m a princess anyhow. It won’t do me any good.

And I’m starving. So hungry that my stomach feels hollow and painful. I need to eat, or I’m going to become dizzy and sick. Well, sicker, considering I’m going to get sick anyhow if I don’t get my medicine soon. “I would like to eat.”

“Oh would you?” he sneers. “What a fine lady you are. Remember that here, you’re nothing but a slave.”

I don’t respond. Nothing I say is going to make a difference. I could tell him that I’m Candra Vestalin all day long and he’s not going to believe me. Candra Vestalin should be inside the tower, after all, resolutely fulfilling her duty to mankind and the goddess, and I’m the wretched creature that ran from it.

He grunts at my silence and then disappears in a flare of smoke. A moment later he returns, looping a skewer full of mushrooms onto a hook just outside my cell’s “window” and sets a stone cup outside on a ledge. “Your food, lady.”

The guard emphasizes the word as if I’m lying. “I need medicine, too. I have to take it every day.”

His reaction isn’t what I expect. Instead of sneering at me, his eyes widen. He grabs a length of material loose around his neck and immediately covers his mouth with it as he takes a step back. “You’re sick?”

“No, of course not.” His alarmed reaction has me worried and I decide to lie. “For my woman’s time.”

The look the guard shoots me is both one of relief and irritation. “Eat your food, female. If I catch you acting up, this’ll be the last meal you get for a while. Understand?”

I nod. I hate being such a weakling, but I’m no use to anyone if I’m too sick to function. Nemeth needs me—and the baby—alive and well. So I wait in silence until the guard gives me one last glare and leaves. Then, I reach through the bars and grab the skewer with the loop at the end, pull it off of the hook, and drag it into my cell. The mushrooms were grilled hours ago and are cold, but they remind me of Nemeth’s mushroom farm back in the tower, and those were always delicious. I gobble them down like a mannerless child and then lick my fingers. The mug is full of cold water and I drain it, too, then replace the dishes in their spot and retreat to my pallet.

Laying down, I listen to the noises of the cells around me. There’s a woman crying somewhere. A cough. A low murmur of voices. They all sound female, except for the occasional barked command of the guard, who’s male and Fellian. There’s no sunlight around here, and few of the magic lights that lined the walkways as I was dragged inside. I don’t know how deep I am in Darkfell.

I don’t even know if I’m still in Darkfell. How will Nemeth ever find me?

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I fight back frustrated tears. I just have to survive. He’ll come for me. He will. He won’t stop hunting until he finds me, because I’d do the very same for him.

Even so, I’m frightened.

“Psst.”

The sound is so low I’m not sure I hear it at first.

“Psst.”

I turn on my side, staring at the brick wall next to my shoulder, where the hissing sound is coming from. A finger wiggles through a crack in the mortar.

“Psst.” It says again. “Princess. Is that really you?”

Chapter

Seventy-Three

Igasp and turn on hands and knees, pressing my cheek to the coarse blanket and mat that make up the bedding in my cell. The voice I heard, asking if I was the princess. It’s unfamiliar to me, but they’re speaking the Lios tongue. I gaze at the tiny crack in the mortar of the rock wall, where the finger slips away again. I can’t see anything on the other side. It’s too dark. I’m reminded abruptly of Balon and his visits to the tower, the gossip he told me through the wall, and how I’d begged for him to free me.

A wave of longing hits me. It feels like a hundred years ago since those days.

“Who’s there?” I ask when the voice goes silent. I’m tempted to stick my finger through the hole to the prisoner on the other side, but what if it’s a trap? So I brush chips of mortar away from the hole, trying to widen it. “Hello?”

“I’m here.” It’s a woman, speaking softly enough that our conversation won’t be heard by the guards. “My name is Senna. I worked in the palace as a washerwoman. Are you really the princess?”

“I am,” I tell her, excitement racing through me. “It’s me. Candromeda.”

The finger appears through the rocks again, wiggling. “Give me a piece of your hair so I know it’s you.”

Oh. Hastily, I pull a few dark strands free of my messy braid and then wrap them around that wriggling fingertip. It retreats back behind the stone walls. A quiet moment passes, and I grow impatient. “Well?”

“It’s you, isn’t it? You even sound all impatient like a princess.”

Well then. “I’m not lying.”

“I know. I didn’t think it was really you until you mentioned the medicine,” the voice on the other side—Senna—says. “Riza is my friend. She told me about you and the potion you have to take daily. That you get sick if you don’t get your medicine. Why aren’t you in the tower?”

I bite back a sound of excitement when she mentions Riza’s name. I’ve missed Riza so much. I know she’s my maid, but she’s also my companion and friend and a constant person in my life…or at least she was before I entered the tower. “Where is Riza? Is she well?”

“She’s here in Darkfell,” Senna whispers. “She was sold off to a Fellian master and so I rarely get to see her anymore.”

Sold off? Like a farm animal? The idea is horrifying…but she’s alive and well at least. When I get out of this dungeon, I’ll make Nemeth free her. “What about my sister, the queen? Erynne? Is she here too?”

“Aye. She’s the slave of one of the Fellian princes.”

“Why is she a slave?” I choke, horrified. “What happened to Lios? Tell me everything!”

“She’s a slave because she’s pretty,” Senna says, her voice bitter. “When the Fellians took the city, they slaughtered the men and took the women captive. They brought us back to this place, but it’s just another tomb.”

“A tomb?”

“You’ll see.” She chuckles, as if this is all somehow funny. “So what’s the princess doing in the dungeon instead of in the tower?”

“I left the tower when there was no more food,” I confess.

“Mmm, aye. There’s no food anywhere above ground. The goddess weeps constantly, and the rain washes everything away. At least these Fellian bastards have food.” She laughs, and the sound is faintly unhinged. “Up above, we starved. Down here, there’s food but it’s a different kind of hell.”

I blanch. “Why are you down here?”

“Because I spit in my owner’s food,” Senna tells me, still laughing. “And food can’t be wasted. He had to eat it or give it to me. So he sent me down here to teach me a lesson. More fool him, I’d rather be here in the dungeon than out there. At least down here I’m safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“From the goddess’s wrath, of course. She’s not starving the Fellians. She’s got a very different punishment for them.” And Senna laughs again. “You can’t escape the eye of the goddess, even underground! She still watches!”

My skin prickles with goosebumps. Senna doesn’t sound…well. “About the goddess⁠—”

“CANDRA!”

The bellow comes from down a distant, echoing hall, but every pore in my body pricks to attention the moment I hear it. I know that voice. I jump to my feet, forgetting all about Senna on the other side of the wall, and I press my face to the bars of my cell. “Nemeth! I’m here!”