Page 80 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)

Chapter 80

Matthias

M uch like in the dungeon back in Arenysen, time ceased to matter in this stars-awful room.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. The breaks Graham provided were welcome reprieves that seemed to be over too quickly, though with nothing but stone and dust and chains surrounding me, I had no way of knowing exactly how much time passed. At least the asshole found it worthwhile to give me breaks to relieve myself—a courtesy I assumed was more for his comfort than for mine, so he could continue to slice and jab and carve away at me without a foul stench clinging to my body. He also offered water and food regularly, though like the salve, this was likely only meant to keep me alive for as long as he needed.

I just needed to survive long enough for someone to find me.

In the rare times my sleep brought dreams, Calla never reappeared, and her absence fed my growing despair. The last dream we’d shared, she hadn’t come to me, hadn’t spoken, and I started to doubt the relief I’d seen in her eyes. Could she get here in time? Could she find me in this hidden hole in the rock? Would she even want to?

These questions haunted me, swirling around my head with the memory of her hatred thrown at me—the only words of hers I could seem to remember. I hate you, Matthias. As time dragged on in its imperceptible increments, those once-welcome breaks from Graham’s abuse gradually became less and less desirable as it provided my mind nothing to focus on other than my numerous failures and eventual demise.

Even if Calla were to save me—even if she did forgive me—she deserved far better than a washed-up, has-been general who did nothing but get himself nearly killed. I hadn’t survived this long because of my own prowess or ingenuity. It had been luck. Always luck.

Luck that Asher had saved me in that fucking forest.

Luck that Calla had protected me in that hallway.

Luck that Phillip had rescued me in that stars-damned lake.

Even before this tournament, it had been luck that brought Gabriel between the Shadow Keeper and me on that battlefield, and it had been luck that the rebel’s arrow at that barn in Emeryn had not been poisoned at all—and that their archer had been a stars-awful shot.

No, I never saved myself.

What kind of mate could I be to Calla? What kind of king to Arenysen?

Calla deserved more than a lucky bastard—more than a fuck-up.

Spiraling down and down into these thoughts, I let my will to keep going slip away and my hope of surviving fade into the darkness of my mind.

A hand grabbed my jaw and lifted, thrusting my head back into the stone wall I sat against, but I kept my eyes closed, my focus fixed on the last image of Calla that played on the back of my eyelids.

“Told you I’d break you.” Graham’s oily voice slithered into my ear. “Now the real fun begins.”