Page 25 of Taming the Eagle

Nevertheless, she drew herself up, waiting for Aquila to ask her, once again, if she was ready to behave herself.

However, to her surprise, he didn’t.

“Enjoy your supper,” he said, favoring her with a nod. “See you at dawn.”

And then he walked off.

Scowling, Fenella waited until she was sure he wasn’t coming back. Then she unwrapped the package he’d handed her, to find a large pork pie. It was freshly baked, still warm from the oven.

Hungrily, Fenella attacked it.

Frankly, the general’s behavior since he’d thrown her in here confused her. He could have sent one of his men with food and drink. And he certainly didn’t need to give her a blanket. She appreciated the gesture, although she couldn’t help but think he was trying to manipulate her.

Finishing her meal, she took a long draft from the bladder of ale, before wrapping the blanket about her.

It wouldn’t ward off all the cold, but she hoped it would keep the worst of it at bay.

A gust of wind whipped through the fort then, blowing dust into the hole and digging icy fingers into the exposed flesh on Fenella’s legs.

With a muttered oath, she sank down into a corner and pulled the blanket even more tightly around her.

It was going to be another long night.

And it was.

Unlike the night before, a biting wind accompanied the cold.

Even with the blanket, it was unbearable. Fenella couldn’t sleep, and nor could she sit still for any length of time. Instead, she took to pacing around the confines of her cramped hole. She stepped in a number of vile things, yet the need to keep warm made her push disgust to the back of her mind.

They were making her live in her own filth too; there was no pot for her to use. It was revolting and demeaning.

And as she walked, Fenella struggled against despair.

It was no good. This wasn’t a fight she could win.

Tears of frustration burned down her chilled cheeks. She raged at fate, at the gods. Why were they so cruel? What had she ever done to offend them?

But as the night wore on, and the unrelenting chill drilled into her bones, Fenella gradually accepted her situation.

There was no point in throwing herself against the rocks, hoping they’d eventually shatter. Instead, she had to learn to scale them.

Her mind was the only weapon she had now—she had to use it.

Wits, not temper,Fen, she repeated to herself as she paced around and around.Pretend you’re beaten. Tell all the lies you have to, if it gets you out of this hole.

Once she was in the general’s household, she could begin planning a proper escape, not like her earlier opportunistic attempt that had resulted in failure. And the next time she ran, they wouldn’t catch her.

But if she held onto her pride, she’d remain in this pit.

Fenella clenched her jaw, as her teeth started to chatter.What if Aquila sees through me?

No, he wouldn’t. The man had a weakness—his attraction to her. He wanted her to submit, for it was a step closer to getting her in his bed. He was desperate for her to swear obedience.

Let him think he’s beaten me, she told herself firmly, fighting against the pride that had always been her downfall.For the moment.

IX. SWEAR TO ME

“VERY WELL, EAGLE,” Fenella greeted her captor when he appeared at dawn. “I won’t try to escape again … I promise.”