CHAPTER 84: CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR: LET’S HAVE A LITTLE TASTE.

Elena woke up to a voice coming from the other end of the dungeon where her cell was.

It had been two months since Elena was thrown into the dungeon. Two long, merciless months. Down there, time didn’t exist. Days bled into nights, and nights stretched endlessly, filled with the stench of rot, blood, and despair. Her world had shrunk to the four mold-stained walls around her, her cell door, and the chain that anchored it to cage her.

In those two months, several "test subjects" had been brought on a daily basis. Some of them had cried out and thrown tantrums. That was until the sickening hunger began to set in till their bodies were no longer under their control.

Elena had witnessed every single transformation, every cry and every scream for help.

Her first few days had been filled with raw, unrelenting sobs of betrayal and grief. She had screamed for Severin until her voice cracked into silence. But the man she had once trusted never came. Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Cassian’s shadow hung over every breath of air in this place; even Severin had no power here anymore.

It got to a point, she stopped crying altogether. That sure as hell wasn’t going to fix anything.

Elena had stopped crying after the first week. Her tears had run out; her heart had not.

She woke that morning to the familiar creak of the iron gates—followed by a voice she would always recognize.

"Terrifying, isn’t it?"

The voice came from the other end of the dungeon.

Her head jerked up and her swollen, dry, and bruised eyes from night after night of staying in the darkness, caught sight of the very devil that had taken her captive: the burly man with a scar running down his cheek. He was usually the one who brought her meals: thin broth for breakfast, some pieces of bread and oil for lunch and five apples for dinner.

Before the food started coming regularly, she had gone the first two days without it.

Maybe that bastard realized I’d be useless if I died from hunger, she thought to herself.

But this time, the man carried no food.

Elena’s body stiffened at the sudden change of events.

What was going on?

The man smirked as he approached, his heavy boots thudding against the stone floor. "Get up princess." the man said as he jangled his keys.

Elena trained her weak eyes on the man.

During those months that she had been locked up, she had actually thought of taking the man down. But she had etched that plan out when one day, the man called out her plan. Elena had frozen up right there and then, too shocked to believe how he knew of it.

"It’s useless princess." he had said.

Even with that, the plan never really escaped her mind. It wasn’t feasible but she would make it possible. Reality dawned on her when days bled and she still hadn’t done anything to save herself.

The food! They were intentionally feeding her the bare minimum just to keep her alive. No wonder she was always weak. What energy could cold broth and bread with oil possible offer?

"Why," she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely human.

He chuckled as he grabbed the lock. "That’s not up to you or me princess."

The man unlocked it and drew the heavy, rotten cell gate open. "Come out."

When she refused to rise, he unlocked her reached in, and grabbed her by the arm. His hand was like a clamp of iron, dragging her to her feet. She stumbled forward, her legs trembling beneath her thin, dirty skirt.

But the man didn’t slow didn’t slow down.

The trek upward was a blur of pain and dizziness. Each step up the spiraling staircase sent fire through her knees. Her feet,bare and cracked,scraped against the cold, merciless stone. The man didn’t care. His grip only tightened, dragging her forward when she faltered.

And then, after what felt like forever, they finally made it to the mouth of the dungeon.

Sunlight.

Blinding, golden, searing sunlight.

Elena squinted and winced as the rays struck her face. She hadn’t seen the sun in months. The sudden warmth felt like knives and her free hand rose instinctively to shield her eyes, but her palm was dirty, and she smeared grime into them instead.

The palace courtyard was nearly deserted. A few thin and hollow-eyed boys dressed in depressing purple uniforms, swept the flagstones in silence. Their faces were ghostly pale and Elena immediately knew they were humans.

Most likely the ones he didn’t finish feasting from. The thought made her gut churn. What a sick psycho.

Her eyes soon adjusted to her new, bright surroundings as they walked by. The walls, once glimmering with banners and life, were now bare with cracked paints of black streaks. The palace had changed...and not for the better.

But that wasn’t her problem right now. She had finally been released after so long. There was no way she would throw this opportunity away.

Elena’s mind raced. What to do, what to do...

She looked up at the man who was dragging her away like a lifeless fly.

Obviously he wouldn’t answer her questions.

He dragged her through the courtyard, across the long corridors, and into the main palace. The grand halls she once admired now looked monstrous. Purple colors clung to the walls, and new extensions had been built: dark, towering wings that loomed like ancient watchtowers.

Finally, they stopped before a large door. The man swung it open and shoved her inside.

Elena fell onto the floor, catching herself with both hands. The room was unfamiliar, furnished but cold.

She pushed herself up, panting. Her heart thundered in her chest as she looked around rather frantically. She didn’t understand.

Then, before she could react, several other women swept into the room.

One of them who was gray-haired and had sharp-eyes was instantly familiar.

Exactly!

She was the head maid from her days of training. The woman who once oversaw her etiquette lessons, posture corrections, and every royal routine. God she had hated that lady but oddly felt relieved to finally see at least a familiar face.

But that relief died faster than light when the woman opened her mouth to speak.

"Get her ready." the old woman said flatly, not meeting her gaze.

Before Elena could speak, the other maids seized her by the arms.

"Wait, what are you doing?!"

No one answered her.

She was half-dragged, half-carried into a grand tiled chamber that smelled of rose oil and crushed lavender. In the center lay a wide, steaming pool surrounded by small candlelit lanterns.

Without further ado, they started peeling off the clothes on her body then literally threw her into the water.

Elena gasped. The heat stung her skin, raising goosebumps over every inch of her body.

"Stop please!" she cried out weakly but the faces of the people around her only made her voice trap within her. No one cared at the least. Everyone wanted to save their own heads.

Soap made of crushed jasmine petals was rubbed along her arms and back. Soon, rough sponges soaked in milk and honey scrubbed away the dirt that clung to her for months. Another maid poured buckets of rosewater over her hair, scrubbing thoroughly with her short nails until her scalp burned.

It went on for nearly an hour. Every scrape and rub reminded her how fragile and weak her body had become.

Her once radiant, sun kissed skin now looked too dull under the bathing water.

The women worked with mechanical precision, saying nothing all through. Only the slosh of water and the soft clink of bowls broke the silence.

When they finally lifted her from the bath, her skin was pink and tender, that a rough handling would probably cause her trembling body to bleed.

They dried her with cotton cloths and brushed her tangled hair until it gleamed faintly. Bare of any clothing, Elena was rushed into the next room from where she had entered from at first. She was made to sit as the women and young girls applied oils of myrrh, frankincense, cinnamon, and bergamot to her pink skin. The rich, sweet scent clung to her skin, top thick to even call pleasant.

Elena barely recognized herself when she looked into the polished brass mirror.

It was her first time looking into the mirror after so long. Her cheeks were hollow but flushed, her eyes sunken but bright, her skin clean but pale.

Then came the clothes.

The maids lined up several dresses of silks, linens, colors she hadn’t seen in her life. They tried one after another, each more revealing than the last. Finally, they settled on a small blue linen dress that ended above her thighs. It was sleeveless yet tied at the waist with a thin golden cord.

Elena frowned weakly. "Wha...?"

She had barely mouthed a sentence when her stomach growled. "I’m hungry," she said, her voice trembling. "Please... at least give me something to eat."

Still silence.

A pang of pain surged within her but she braced herself.

This was no time to be weak.

When they finished, dusk had already begun to fall.

The young girls walked her to the door with the head maid while the other women tidied up the used space.

The burly man reappeared at the door once it was open like he had been waiting there for her. He looked at Elena differently this time as his eyes roved over her oiled skin. Hw clicked his tongue, sliding them across his lips. He made to touch her milky skin when his hand was slapped firmly away from her body.

The head maid snapped, "Do your job, or lose your head. Pick one."

He flinched, nodded, and gestured for Elena to follow.

The long walk through the palace felt endless. The corridors were dim now, probably because of the tired sun going for a nap. It was lit by pretty lanterns that cast a warm, dark vibe around the whole place. The man said nothing, though his pace was slower than before.

They stopped in front of massive dark-purple doors that had each knob shaped like a gargoyle’s head whose teeth were bared.

Elena’s throat went dry.

The man opened the door and flicked her inside. He hardly touch her as if she was like she was now made of the purest gold.

Elena stumbled forward lightly, catching herself just before the door shut behind her with a deep, echoing thud.

Darkness.

Elena blinked, adjusting to the faint golden light coming from a few candelabras along the wall. The room was vast and silent. Even the crickets stinging sounds were no where heard.

Her pulse quickened. This was the perfect time.

She took a hesitant step forward,extending her hands in front of her to feel her way.

She looked up at the window that was wide open. The entire thing looked suspicious immediately she sighted it but she pushed back the warning signs. Her desperation got the best of her.

’I can run. I can jump down the window and run.’ she told herself as she walked hurriedly towards it before picking up the pace.

Just a few steps to the window, a hand caught her wrist.

She gasped, twisting around straight into a hard chest.

The scent hit her first then came the voice of the devil himself.

"Hello, Princess."

Cassian.

That monster.

Her breath hitched as she looked up at him. His dark hair was tousled, his sharp eyes glowing faintly in the candlelight. His mouth curved into a devilish smile that sent chills crawling down every part of her exposed body.

He looked her over, slow and deliberate.

"I see the maids have done a fine job," he said softly. "I almost forgot what you looked like under all that filth."

Elena tried to pull away as fear shook her entire being, but his grip tightened.

"Let go of me," she said shakily, twisting her wrist in his iron like hand.

"Still so spirited," he murmured, amused. "Two months in the dark, and yet your tongue hasn’t rotted."

"What do you want?" she spat out as the sharp pain of continuously twisting her hands hit her. It hurt... like crazy.

He tilted his head. "Want? That’s a dangerous word, Princess. It implies choice."

Her stomach knotted as his face grew closer to hers.

He released her wrist and began to circle her slowly, like a predator studying its prey before suddenly gripping her chin and bringing up to his gaze.

"...and you don’t have that."