Chapter 3 – The Iron Tower Prison
830 Words
“You're awake."
Lucia jolted upright as the chamber door creaked open.
It was a different voice—softer, younger. A servant girl with braided hair stepped inside carrying a tray of tea and flatbread.
“Didn't mean to startle you," the girl said quickly. “I—I'm called Nira. Assigned to the envoy. Or... the lady?"
“I'm not a lady," Lucia muttered, rubbing her temples. “And I didn't ask for a servant."
Nira shifted awkwardly. “Lord Bloodfang insisted."
Lucia scoffed. “Of course he did."
The tray clinked as it hit the table. “He said to bring the white orchid tea. Said it helps with... dreams."
Lucia froze.
She hadn't told anyone about the dreams.
“Leave it," she said curtly. “And go."
“Yes, my lady." Nira bowed and backed out quickly, but not before Lucia caught her glance lingering on the glove she wore.
Lucia waited until the footsteps vanished, then pulled the glove off.
Her wrist still shimmered faintly under the morning light. No visible rune. But it burned—deep in the bone.
---
Elsewhere in the citadel, Xeno stood over a table of scrolls and maps, barely hearing Arden's report.
“She's refusing all food except the hawthorn," Arden said. “Won't speak to the staff. Tried prying open the window hinges last night."
“She measured the window?" Xeno asked without looking up.
“Braided her sheets into rope, too."
A beat.
He smiled faintly. “She hasn't changed."
“Xeno, you can't keep her locked up," Arden said sharply. “We're getting pressure from the Northern Clans. They think you've kidnapped a diplomat."
“I didn't kidnap her."
“Semantics. You dragged a foreign envoy into an ancient war tower."
“I housed my wife in a room she designed."
“She doesn't remember designing it."
“Then she'll remember soon."
Arden leaned forward. “And what if she doesn't?"
Xeno finally looked up. “Then I'll wait until she does. Even if it kills me."
---
That evening, Lucia found the window latch rusted but movable. She'd timed the guard rotations. She had seven minutes at most.
She tied the final knot in the bedsheet rope and whispered, “Don't look down."
Her boots gripped the narrow ledge as she swung over the sill. Wind howled against her cloak, whipping her braid across her face.
One step. Another.
But as she inched downward, something pulsed in her temple.
A flash.
A moonlit altar.
A silver blade.
A man's voice whispering: *"Say it. Bind it. Live."*
Lucia gasped, missing her footing. Her hand slipped—sheets tearing.
Before she could scream, strong arms caught her from below.
“Stupid," Xeno muttered, holding her tight against his chest. “You always forget your right side's weaker."
She shoved at him. “Put me down!"
He did—onto the stone balcony just below the window.
“You were watching me?" she snapped.
He crossed his arms. “I didn't need to. I knew you'd try tonight."
“I am not your prisoner."
“No." He stepped forward. “You're my wife."
“You keep saying that—"
“Because it's true."
“I don't remember you!" she shouted. “I don't remember vows or rooms or tea or the moon. You can't just—force me to be someone I'm not!"
Xeno's voice dropped. “Then why do you know how many steps there are from the stairwell to the guard post?"
She froze.
He continued, “Why did you hide that dagger under the third floor tile? I had that tile repaired twice before I gave up."
Lucia's breath hitched.
He reached out, slow.
When his fingers brushed her cheek, her knees nearly gave out from the jolt of heat.
“Your body remembers even if your mind won't," he whispered.
She pulled away.
“You can't keep me here."
“I won't," he said. “But I won't let you leave while half your soul still sings mine."
---
Later that night, Lucia sat alone, staring at the vase of orchids again. This time she didn't touch them.
Instead, she pulled her glove off entirely and examined her wrist under moonlight.
Nothing visible. Just that shimmer, that phantom pulse.
She closed her eyes.
Another flash.
A hand cupping her face.
Xeno's voice again: *“If death claims you, I'll follow."*
She gasped awake, heart pounding.
“Stop it," she whispered to herself. “Stop remembering things that aren't real."
But when she stood, her hand automatically reached for the teacup.
She traced the rim exactly where a chipped star pattern lay.
And she knew.
Not remembered.
Knew.
That it used to be hers.
---
Down below, Xeno stood watch under the tower balcony.
He closed his eyes, listening.
One heartbeat echoed in his chest. Then a second, soft and unsure—beating in perfect time.
He looked up at the window.
And smiled.
- Writer
