location. Just mind your name."
Kinga stood up
to take her leave, but there was one more thing I was dying to know.
"Kinga,
what was Alecsander's mortal name?"
Kinga thought
for a moment, trying to recall the name, "Daman I think. Fitting, now that
we see what he's become."
Chapter Seventeen
Kinga's
information had frightened away all thoughts of hunger, but to make her happy I
picked at the meager meal on my bed. I sampled the thin soup; it tasted like
water. The plain piece of toast was dry and blander to my taste buds than it
was to my eyes. The only thing that actually had the remnants of flavor was the
water that seemed to be laced with peppermint.
I knew I had to
eat and somehow I managed to make everything go down and stay down, but I got
no satisfaction from it. My body felt no different. My eyes had finally cleared
enough to let me see detail of the room beyond my bed.
The floor was
dark, worn wood, not to mention completely clean, meaning that someone had
cleaned up my tarlike vomit. I tried not to think about
who got that awful task as I took in the rest of my surroundings.
The bed, the
bedside tables, the chair Aida had been sitting on, and a small desk in the
corner were all white painted wood. The walls were the same yellow as the
quilt, the ceiling was plain white, but just as in my hall it seemed to be the
source of the soft light that was illuminating the room.
All in all, the
room was just as exciting as the meal I'd just forced down. There were no books
to occupy myself, no music to listen to, and of course no television to
mindlessly divert me from my own thoughts.
I sighed and
reached up to feel the braids Hannah had put in my hair. As my hand passed my face I caught a glimpse of the circle on my palm. I
instinctively shut my hand tight before I brought it down in front of my face
to inspect it more closely.
For hours all I
could do was sit and stare at the perfect little black ring. It didn't look as menacing as I
sat in my quiet, dull room, and I began to think that there might be a way to get rid of it so that Daman
would never find me again.
His last words
still haunted me, "My queen," he had whispered.
Each time I
recalled his voice a shiver went up my spine, the reverberations never seemed
to leave completely, it just echoed quietly until it decided to remind me again. I felt like I was
going insane, tears had worked themselves out of my eyes, cruelly wetting my
face as they traversed over my cheeks. Intense anxiety wrapped its cold hand
around my stomach and tickled the back of my head. I clenched and unclenched my
hands on the quilt, under the covers my toes squirmed, and my legs spasmed with
the need to walk off the terror that was filling me.
Finally, I
could stand it no longer; I decided I'd rather deal with the wrath of Kinga
than lie in that bed doing nothing for another moment.
I kicked the
quilt off and jumped out of the bed. That was my first mistake; I nearly fell
flat on my face and had to steady myself against the bedside table. My legs
were jelly under my weight, but I forced them to hold me as I looked around for
some kind of shoe. Finding none, I resolved to go barefoot; I just needed to
get out of the room before I killed myself.
I crossed to
the door and steadied myself against it for a moment before I turned the knob
and stepped through.
Outside was not
what I had expected. It looked like a subway tunnel, minus the train rails of
course. The walls were white washed cement, same as the floor, though slightly
less clean looking than the walls. The ceiling, as in the room I had just left,
was emanating quiet light. On either side of me were more doors, they didn't
look like the one I had just come through though. These were metal and I could
almost feel the chill coming off of their cold surface. Still, it was better
than the hallway I'd been stuck in for almost a year. I secretly hoped to
myself that I would never have to return to
Kinga stood up
to take her leave, but there was one more thing I was dying to know.
"Kinga,
what was Alecsander's mortal name?"
Kinga thought
for a moment, trying to recall the name, "Daman I think. Fitting, now that
we see what he's become."
Chapter Seventeen
Kinga's
information had frightened away all thoughts of hunger, but to make her happy I
picked at the meager meal on my bed. I sampled the thin soup; it tasted like
water. The plain piece of toast was dry and blander to my taste buds than it
was to my eyes. The only thing that actually had the remnants of flavor was the
water that seemed to be laced with peppermint.
I knew I had to
eat and somehow I managed to make everything go down and stay down, but I got
no satisfaction from it. My body felt no different. My eyes had finally cleared
enough to let me see detail of the room beyond my bed.
The floor was
dark, worn wood, not to mention completely clean, meaning that someone had
cleaned up my tarlike vomit. I tried not to think about
who got that awful task as I took in the rest of my surroundings.
The bed, the
bedside tables, the chair Aida had been sitting on, and a small desk in the
corner were all white painted wood. The walls were the same yellow as the
quilt, the ceiling was plain white, but just as in my hall it seemed to be the
source of the soft light that was illuminating the room.
All in all, the
room was just as exciting as the meal I'd just forced down. There were no books
to occupy myself, no music to listen to, and of course no television to
mindlessly divert me from my own thoughts.
I sighed and
reached up to feel the braids Hannah had put in my hair. As my hand passed my face I caught a glimpse of the circle on my palm. I
instinctively shut my hand tight before I brought it down in front of my face
to inspect it more closely.
For hours all I
could do was sit and stare at the perfect little black ring. It didn't look as menacing as I
sat in my quiet, dull room, and I began to think that there might be a way to get rid of it so that Daman
would never find me again.
His last words
still haunted me, "My queen," he had whispered.
Each time I
recalled his voice a shiver went up my spine, the reverberations never seemed
to leave completely, it just echoed quietly until it decided to remind me again. I felt like I was
going insane, tears had worked themselves out of my eyes, cruelly wetting my
face as they traversed over my cheeks. Intense anxiety wrapped its cold hand
around my stomach and tickled the back of my head. I clenched and unclenched my
hands on the quilt, under the covers my toes squirmed, and my legs spasmed with
the need to walk off the terror that was filling me.
Finally, I
could stand it no longer; I decided I'd rather deal with the wrath of Kinga
than lie in that bed doing nothing for another moment.
I kicked the
quilt off and jumped out of the bed. That was my first mistake; I nearly fell
flat on my face and had to steady myself against the bedside table. My legs
were jelly under my weight, but I forced them to hold me as I looked around for
some kind of shoe. Finding none, I resolved to go barefoot; I just needed to
get out of the room before I killed myself.
I crossed to
the door and steadied myself against it for a moment before I turned the knob
and stepped through.
Outside was not
what I had expected. It looked like a subway tunnel, minus the train rails of
course. The walls were white washed cement, same as the floor, though slightly
less clean looking than the walls. The ceiling, as in the room I had just left,
was emanating quiet light. On either side of me were more doors, they didn't
look like the one I had just come through though. These were metal and I could
almost feel the chill coming off of their cold surface. Still, it was better
than the hallway I'd been stuck in for almost a year. I secretly hoped to
myself that I would never have to return to
Similar Books
