Time has become a blur. I've had five meals since being brought here, all the same monotonous fare. It's a strategic move to keep me disoriented. The guard has only brought me bathing water twice, so it might be the second day, maybe more. Prince Malo has not visited since that night, except for Maxim, whose ulterior motives are painfully clear. The collar around my neck still suppresses my magic and voice, making me feel like I've forgotten what it's like to speak.
I think about Flora and wonder if something similar happened to her. Alibaba confirmed she ran away, but the uncertainty gnaws at me. The guard, though silent, has been somewhat considerate, bringing me a book to read. He hasn't drawn his sword on me for a while, but that doesn't mean I can relax.
As he brings in the sixth meal, placing it on the stool next to the bed, he resumes his quiet vigil by the doorway. The sight of the same rice and curry for the umpteenth time triggers my frustration. I throw the plate to the ground in a fit of rage. The guard rises and starts to clean up the mess without a word. As he bends down to pick up the solid pieces, I see an opportunity.
With the broken plate in hand, I swing it at his head. His reaction is swift and brutal. He stabs my leg with a knife, and the pain is excruciating. I fall to the ground, clutching my leg, and try to scream, but the collar tightens, feeling like a freezing burn around my neck. My voice remains trapped, my cries for help silent.
The guard's eyes are cold as he retrieves his knife and stands over me. Blood oozes from my wound, pooling on the floor. I gasp for breath, my vision blurring from the pain and shock. He steps back and resumes his post, as if nothing happened.
Lying on the floor, I feel helpless and trapped. The pain in my leg throbs with every heartbeat, and the collar continues to chill my neck. Tears of frustration and agony blur my vision as I try to gather my thoughts. I can't afford to give up. I have to find a way out of this, but I'm running out of options and strength.
As I lie there, the reality of my situation sinks in. If I don't find a way to escape soon, I'll be at their mercy indefinitely. I can't let that happen. I have to survive, no matter what it takes. The guard walks back to me with a box in his hand. He kneels down and picks me up off the floor, placing me on the chair. He opens the box and tries cleaning the wound. The pain is all over my body. The hunger doesn't help either. Everything is painful, and my vision is blurring even more, but I can make out some images.
The guard's rough hands bandage my leg with surprising care, as if he doesn't want me to die just yet. His eyes, however, remain as cold and detached as ever. Once he's done he lifts me gently and places me on the bed, he covers me with a light sheet and adjusts the pillow under my head. He goes to the corner and picks a damp bath towel I was using and places it on my head. He watches me for a moment, before removing the cloth, dampening it again, and placing it back on my head.
Lying there, I focus on staying calm and thinking clearly. There must be a way to escape this predicament, and I have to find it before it's too late. I can't let this collar, this room, or these people break me. I have to hold on to hope, even if it feels like it's slipping through my fingers.
The guard's unexpected care gives me a glimmer of insight. Perhaps he isn't entirely loyal to Maxim, or maybe there's a way to exploit his sense of duty. If I can find a way to communicate, to reach out to him, I might be able to turn this situation around. The pain in my leg is a constant reminder of my precarious position, but it's also a source of resolve. I will not be defeated. I will find a way to escape, to reclaim my freedom, and to expose the treachery that has brought me here.
***
I wake up to find my leg wound patched up, my throat dry, and the dreaded collar still secured around my neck. The guard approaches, and my heart races as he pulls out a syringe. I try to fight him off, but my strength is sapped, and the needle plunges into my arm. Almost immediately, my vision blurs, and a heavy fog descends over my mind. Darkness claims me once more.
When I regain consciousness, the room is bathed in a dim light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. My head throbs, and I feel disoriented. The collar still presses coldly against my neck, a constant reminder of my captivity. My leg aches, but the bleeding has stopped. I try to sit up, feeling weak and drained.
As my senses slowly return, I realize I'm alone. The guard is nowhere in sight. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to piece together a plan. The fog from the drug lingers, making it hard to concentrate.
I glance around the room, noting the same sparse furnishings. The book the guard brought me lies on the floor. I force myself to focus, to think clearly despite the lingering effects of the drug.
I remember the collar around my neck, how it suppresses my magic and my voice. If I could just find a way to remove it, I might have a chance. I struggle to my feet, my injured leg protesting with every step. I make my way to the door, hoping it's unlocked, but my heart sinks when I find it securely bolted.
Time passes slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity. Just as despair begins to creep in, I hear faint footsteps approaching. I tense, preparing for whoever might enter. The door creaks open, and to my surprise, it's not the guard, but someone else — someone I didn't expect to see.
Time passes slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity. Just as despair begins to creep in, I hear faint footsteps approaching. I tense, preparing for whoever might enter. The door creaks open and to my dismay, it's Prince Malo. He lifts me up and takes me back to the bed, gently caressing my cheek as he lays me down. My whole body feels numb and tired. I want to beg him to let me go, but my voice is as good as gone. Everything is blurred and confusing—whatever that drug was, it must be illegal. I lean in desperately, trying to beg him through my actions. He leans in, his facial expression unreadable. His hand slowly moves down my neck and touches the collar, and I feel a slight pain.
"Please forgive me," he whispers. This is definitely Prince Malo; his touch is too gentle. "I'm doing this for my kingdom." I want to yell at him, but I can't. I slap him across the face and retreat slowly, curling up in the corner of the bed farthest from him, trying to calm myself down. The anger inside me is boiling.
The door opens, and the guard walks in with the same plate of food—curry and rice. I make a disgusted look at the food and face Malo.
"Get her something else," he demands. The guard turns back and locks the door behind him.
Prince Malo sits back on the bed in silence. In the dim light, I can see he seems as tired as I am. The light in his eyes is slowly fading; I think he doesn't wish to do this. We sit in silence for a while.
Despite the numbness and exhaustion, I muster the strength to reach out and embrace Prince Malo from behind. The gesture is both an act of defiance and a desperate plea for understanding. I lay my head on his back, and he responds by holding my hand tightly against his chest. The silence that stretches between us is heavy with unspoken words and shared burdens.
We stay like this for what feels like an eternity, the tension slowly ebbing away, replaced by a fragile sense of connection. Despite my anger and fear, I can't ignore the weight of his own struggles. As a crowned prince, he carries responsibilities that often demand harsh decisions.
"Please forgive me," he had whispered, his voice filled with genuine regret. It echoes in my mind, mingling with the ache in my leg and the throbbing in my head. The collar around my neck is a constant reminder of my powerlessness, but in this moment, our shared silence offers a sliver of solace.
The door creaks open again, and the guard returns with a different meal. He places a plate of fresh fruit, bread, and cheese on the stool beside the bed. Prince Malo gestures for me to eat, and though my appetite is faint, I force myself to take a few bites, needing the energy.
"I wish things could be different," Prince Malo says softly, breaking the silence. "But my kingdom's future depends on this."
I swallow hard, the taste of the food mingling with the bitterness of my situation. I release my grip on him and sit back, trying to compose my thoughts. The fog from the drug still lingers, but I push through it, focusing on what little control I have left. I try to eat as much as I can. Malo sits next to me in silence.