Muted voices pull at the edges of your consciousness, waking you from your sleep. Your wrists burn and your arms ache. Your legs feel cramped, jammed under your body.
"He's awake."
You slowly glance up toward the voice, but the bag over your head is blocking your vision. You hear the sound of shuffling, and a few seconds later, the bag is pulled away.
The sudden bright light of the morning sky shining through the tent entrance forces you to squint. Knelt in front of you is a young soldier and standing behind him, arms crossed, is the prince himself.
A satisfied smirk spreads across his face.
"Good morning, Arthur Hornraven," Vedran says. "Before we speak, I'll let you know that I still have your friend, Darin. Try anything… and well…" He trails off. "Consider it my 'insurance.'"
The soldier pulls the gag from your mouth. You stretch your aching jaw and through cracked, parched lips…
He strikes you across the face, hard. You see stars. You lean to the side and spit blood.
Vedran says, "You're a fucking mistake." He strikes you again. "Always fucking everything up. Ruining my goddamn life!" he shouts, inches away from your face.
The soldier behind Vedran awkwardly shuffles backward, clearly made uncomfortable by the scene unfolding in front of him.