Cassandra>
I'd been locked up for 3 days now. The dungeon didn't have windows, but you learn to measure time by the cold.
It starts in your toes, crawls up through your ankles, and eventually settles behind your ribs with absolutely no intention of leaving.
I sat on the damp dirt floor of my cell, my back pressed against the freezing stone, and listened to the quiet.
'Twenty-one years of surviving,' I thought, pulling my knees tight against my chest to keep the torn fabric of my emerald gown from riding up. 'And you ended up right back where you started. On the floor, in the dark, waiting for someone else to decide what happens to you.'
I didn't even have the energy to laugh at the irony.
The welt on my shoulder where Jarek's guard had struck me with his riding crop still throbbe
