Page 12 of Sins of His Wrath (Myth of Omega: Wrath #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
N aya woke to murky darkness. She’d tried to examine her cell when she first arrived, but even though it was only a few feet long, it was too dark to see all of it. She’d tucked herself into a corner, wrapping around her arms around her legs, hoping to see better in a few hours, but the atmosphere remained the same as though no time had passed at all; gloomy, dark, and oppressive. Debris littered the floor, and dank, stale air hung around her, reeking of sour, foul odors, as though people had rotted away within the rough, black walls.
So Akoro had finally thrown her into a dungeon. Maybe he’d been furious that she touched his weapons. Maybe he was fed up with her. But it made little sense. What was the point of imprisoning her when he intended to give her a first day to work on the Solution?
Naya sighed and slowly got to her feet. At least there was no one dangerous in here with her. She approached the gate and carefully peered out. Beyond her cell was a small, high-ceilinged area lit with several flat benches and stairs to the far left. One torch burned low, providing the weak, orange glow that barely lit her cell. On the other walls were gates like hers, no doubt containing other cells. Inside them was dark. The only sounds she could hear were a slow drip of water onto concrete and erratic scratching and pattering of tiny clawed feet.
Naya angled her head, trying to see the whole chamber. No one was visible, not even guards.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded pathetically hoarse and weak. Even if anyone was in the other cells, they probably wouldn’t hear her. She tried again, louder. “Is anyone else here?”
Silence.
Leaning against the bars, she thought back to Akoro. Maybe this was a punishment for her lack of interest in behaving like his true mate. It just didn’t feel like he would do something like this to convince her—he was smart enough to know that this wouldn’t work.
Many hours passed, and no one came. Naya guessed it had to be evening by now, and no one had even come to give her water. Her stomach ached, and her mouth was dry. Maybe he was trying to kill her slowly if he couldn’t make her enthusiastic about being his mate. But that seemed ridiculous, too. She walked around in the tiny space, trying to think up reasons why he’d put her here, and underneath it all was a roiling sorrow that the man she’d spent days cuddled next to her had done this to her.
By the time she heard footsteps, she’d fallen asleep on the floor by the gate, her head on the iron bars and her hands and feet tucked away from the creatures that scurried past. At least a day had to have passed.
The footsteps stopped outside her cell, and when the door opened, three guards and two female servants were waiting.
Naya stepped out slowly, apprehension stiffening her limbs. The guards fanned out into the chamber and turned their backs while the servants undressed her.
Naya kept her eyes on the other cells, looking for any other prisoners who might come forward at the noise, but everything was still behind their gates. Akoro seemed like the kind of Alpha whose dungeons were constantly overflowing, yet these appeared unused.
When she was naked, the servants reached into a large pot next to one of the stone benches and scooped out handfuls of what looked like a mixture of dirt and sand, and blood, and began rubbing it all over Naya’s skin.
Immediately, she whipped her head to one side, trying not to gag. A putrid odor from the mixture attacked her nostrils, reminiscent of rotting meat, urine, and rotting fish.
The servants covered her in it, from her neck to her underarms to in between her toes, then dressed her in a loose, thin, pale tunic that was freezing, as though it had been laid out in the snow-laden Southern Isles for a few years. It hung from her shoulders to her knees with a shapeless stiffness. It was an odd choice—to cover her with a light material after essentially smearing her with something so foul. And the tunic didn’t even match the intricately patterned style she’d seen from this culture.
One guard carefully tied her wrists with a thick rope that was attached to a long lead. Finally, they covered her head with a thick sack-like material.
The guards gripped her elbow and led her back through the corridors, up the stairs, and supported her as she climbed up back up to the fresh air of the palace before letting her go. Naya took a deep breath and let herself be led by soft tugs on the rope around her wrists. She had put herself in this position and if it came to it, she would defend herself. But for now, all she could do was abide by what Akoro wanted so she could get her first day.
They walked for a while, but with so many turns, Naya couldn't tell where they were or where they were going. Suddenly, a breeze whipped around her hood and heat slammed down onto her skin, even as the cold tunic she wore was making her shiver. Under her feet, the smoothness of the palace floor changed to a rougher surface.
The guards helped her into a cart, and from its bumpy movement, she could feel it had wheels. It moved slowly, crunching and clattering. The hubbub of the city slowly built until it sounded like a huge crowd.
The cart slowed, and the guards helped her out, leading her up some steps. She had to be on some kind of platform because the crowd sounded like it was in front of her, but the hood was so tight, she couldn't even look down to see what she was standing on. Dread crept up the back of her neck, on the small hair on edge. This could be bad.
Someone moved in front of her. “The z mola reminds you not to speak.” It was Prillu. “If you are successful, you will get the first day of your fourteen tomorrow.” She slipped away.
Naya drew in a slow breath, relief flooding her. The heat baring down on her had to make it either just before or just after their lur-ennen . At least she didn’t have another whole day in the cell.
Pressing her lips together, she closed her eyes, determined to say nothing. If she didn’t speak, then it would be on Akoro to prove he would stick to his word and give her a day. If he didn’t, then she would have to decide whether she attempted an escape. It’d been at least two weeks since she left the empire. Papa would have something in place to protect them by now.
Within moments, the crowd’s low din turned to raucous noise, yells and shouts, punctuating cheers.
And then Akoro started speaking, his voice rising to meet the crowd, and despite herself, she took comfort in the deep grit and growl in his foreign words.