Michaela
Left in the dungeon, cold except for where the silver collar seared my throat, I drifted in and out of consciousness. I’d come closer to death that day than ever before. I didn’t regret refusing to bow and falsely confess, but I dreaded whatever kind of hell I would have to endure now.
Some time later, the cell door creaked open again. Maya had come back with her medicine bag to tend to my newest injuries.
This time, I had no strength left to beg for mercy. As she ran careful hands across my skull, ribs, and limbs to check for breaks, I laid there like a corpse. Except for the occasional hiss of pain as her hands crossed a more sensitive bruise, I was silent.
“No breaks, but possibly some minor fractures,” Maya murmured. “Extensive bruising. You’ll need my bruise salve. A
