Rough by Sara Fields (ereader iphone txt) 📕

Chapter 13

Ariana

I woke up in a haze. For several long seconds, it took all of my focus to just draw air in and out of my lungs. My ribs ached and breathing was difficult. Feeling bleary and incredibly out of sorts, I finally opened my eyes. My muscles were sore, and my arms hurt. I couldn’t move them either. It felt like forever as I tried to figure out why.

My wrists were in chains far out at my sides. When I relaxed, the metal cuffs bit into my skin and I forced myself up on my tiptoes to relieve them, I soon realized that I wouldn’t be able to keep that up for too long either. My calves were already protesting the exertion and it didn’t take too much more time before I had to give in and relax enough to take the pressure off of them, which only made the metal pinch into my wrists once more.

I groaned, feeling the cruel ache of my stiff muscles. I knew it would hurt even more when or even if I was ever released from them. The blood would return to my limbs and fingers and I knew it would be excruciating. I shivered, feeling a gentle breeze carry throughout the room.

Where the fuck was I?

I lifted my head and as the gradual fog that plagued my mind started to fade, I was able to comprehend that I was in a circular shaped room. All around me were stone walls, but there was a window up high enough so that I could see that I was several stories up. The blue of the sky peeked in enough to light up a sunbeam on the floor. Seeing it offered me a small sense of relief that I held onto as tightly as I could. At least I wasn’t hidden somewhere far underground.

Small victories, I suppose.

I sighed.

The walls were made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, so I was likely somewhere within the upper towers. I wondered if we were in the abandoned wing of the castle. I’d only visited it once through the hidden passageways, but I hadn’t stayed for very long because there was nothing here to find. It wasn’t regularly guarded, and I knew that no one else would come looking here to find me.

For an hour or two, I watched the beam of light travel across the floor before the sound of metal hinges desperately in need of a good oiling screeched somewhere not far away.

I held my breath, trying to listen in the ensuing silence for footsteps and soon enough, I could hear those too. My eyes flashed to the old metal door that enclosed me in the room and I couldn’t shake a terrible sense of foreboding. It swung open and someone stepped inside.

The blood-red color of the hooded cape was the first thing that came into my view. The black mask covering his face gave no clue to his identity, but I could see the color of his eyes staring back at me. They were a light brown and when he took a step, I noticed something familiar about the way he walked. His ankle rolled just the slightest bit, but he caught himself. Like he was hiding a limp.

I’d seen that before.

As he moved closer, I took some more time to study the bareness of his hands, taking note of the scar on his right knuckle that spanned all the way to the bottom of his thumb. Something like that couldn’t be hidden. I could use it to identify him if I ever got out of here.

I’d store that information away for another time.

Behind him, two other Cultists entered. Upon further observation, I realized that it was the triad who had delivered me to Magnar in the first place. The one with two differently colored irises and then the other with dark green eyes glared back at me, both of them seeming as if it was tiresome to be here. I didn’t like seeing their aggravation. That didn’t bode well for me in my currently imprisoned state. The metal door closed behind them with a resounding bang. The sound of it nearly made my heart stop.

The Cult had me right where they wanted me.

Fuck. I had to stand my ground.

I jerked forward in my cuffs, challenging them silently as they stood in front of me.

“It has come to our attention that you’ve become aware of a plan that we have been putting into motion for some time now,” the bicolored-eyed cultist began.

“Who are you?” I asked, showing not even an ounce of fear or a single hint that I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You may call me the Prophet,” he started, then he gestured to the one with brown eyes. “This is the Acolyte and, on my right, here is the Recruiter. That is all you need to know about our identities. You will ask no more questions about it and if you do, you will exceed your usefulness and your purpose will no longer be deemed necessary.” His tone was final. It would be too dangerous for me to press the matter, so I dropped it. I didn’t need them to tell me who they were. I would figure it out eventually on my own.

“Why have you taken me hostage?”

“We have our reasons. Some of them you may learn. Most of them you likely won’t. You see, I have my doubts regarding your trustworthiness and loyalty. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” I snarled.

“I’ve seen you before, Ariana. It took me some time to realize where, but I remember now. You weren’t always a king’s omega. You used to be a scullery maid, didn’t you?” the Prophet began and my blood ran cold.

Did they know who I was? Did they suspect that the Brotherhood had sent me? Did they know my father?

I swallowed every last question and locked them away deep in my