Page 37 of The Lies of Lena (The Otacian Chronicles #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six

F ort Laith was a monstrous place, a building made of stone with two large watch towers, one on either side. With the number of soldiers that were part of our capture, plus the ones stationed on the outside of the fort and an amount I could only imagine on the inside, escaping here would be nearly impossible.

Despite my fear of what would occur in these walls, my knees nearly buckled at the thought of sleeping somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t the cold ground.

We were led toward the massive iron doors at the entrance, soldiers bowing to Silas as he and his men rode forward. Silas and the handful of soldiers that rode horses began to dismount, and after a few words were exchanged, two soldiers hauled Edmund out of the carriage he was in, Elowen being pulled with him.

I gritted my teeth. I hated how they tugged at her, sweet Elowen, who had never hurt a fly. I hated how I wasn’t with her .

Us Mages followed through the doors, revealing a spacious stone hallway lined with more militia. Within a few footsteps, we were led down a stone staircase one by one. Sconces added hardly any light, but enough that we could see. When we reached the bottom, my people were already being crammed into cells. The doors were made of what appeared to be iron, just like the entrance, and each had a small, barred window at the top. There seemed to be around twenty or so cells, so a handful of Mages were placed in each one.

Except for me. When I was pushed into mine, the door shut immediately. I turned slowly, my cuffed hands held close to my body. The room was plain with nothing but a stone “bed”, similar to the one I slept on in Castle La’Rune, and a single toilet.

I decided to lay down, realizing the ground outside was far more comfortable, and quietly cried myself to sleep.

What felt like seconds later, after being startled awake, we were taken one by one to get cleaned up. I guess I could appreciate that. There was a line of showers in the basement where we were to get rinsed. While being watched, of course. The idea of being stripped humiliated me, but the grime that covered me was begging to be washed off.

I was one of the first to shower, and, to my dismay, Roland was the one overlooking.

“You smell like shit,” he said plainly.

I gave him a scowl. “What the fuck do you expect? ”

He chuckled as I unhooked the Queen’s necklace and handed it over; the ring Silas gave me years ago remained on my right ring finger. I went to remove my clothes, which I realized proved difficult while wearing the cuffs.

“You’ll need my help,” Roland stated. My entire face flushed as he used a knife to tear my dress, pulling the tattered material down until it dropped to the floor. He then unhooked my bra, and when he went to pull down my underwear, I stopped him and said I could do it myself. He backed off, and when I was completely exposed, I refused to meet his eyes.

If I reeked before, I certainly did now. The mix of red and cursed blood and body odor was completely overwhelming.

“There’s soap inside the shower, and there is no heat, so the water is going to be cold,” he said.

My shoulders sank.

Of course, there’s no heat.

I had grown accustomed to warm water in Ames. I stepped in and twisted the handle, and ice-cold water sprayed out, causing me to let out an embarrassing squeal. Roland let out a loud laugh in response.

I turned and gave him a death glare.

“What?” he said with a half-smile. “I bet you’d laugh if it were me squealing like a pig.”

I gave him my middle finger, his smile broadening, and I winced as I stepped back into the water stream. A mixture of blood and dirt began swirling at my feet, the white tile beneath me disappearing quickly. My teeth started to chatter, but fuck, it felt good getting this muck off me. I reached up and pulled out the hair tie that secured my braid and handed it to Roland .

“I’m surprised these can be in the water,” I mumbled, motioning toward the cuffs.

“Wouldn’t be a very good contraption if water could break them.”

I was surprised by how Roland kept his eyes trained on anything but my body.

Thanks, I guess.

I pulled apart my braid, then dipped my head under the water, gasping at the cold. I turned to where the toiletries were kept—well, where a single bar of soap was.

“No shampoo?”

“This isn’t a spa, Ginger Snap,” he retorted.

I glared at him as he smirked. Gods, I wanted to smack him. I clutched the bar of soap, and as I tried to reach my head, the soap slipped out of my grasp and fell to the ground.

“Haven’t you heard you aren’t supposed to drop soap in prison?” he teased as I went to bend down. I sprang my body up before I was able to reach the soap, and when I met him with wide eyes, he busted out laughing.

“You are a piece of shit,” I spat.

“I was just teasing. Have a sense of humor.” The bastard smirked again.

I reached down, making sure to bend my ass away from him, and tried once more to bring it to my head.

I groaned. This was going to be impossible.

“Might need my help with that, too.”

“Why would you bother helping?” I muttered .

He crossed his arms. “I can’t stand smelling your stench,” he replied.

I scowled at him for a few seconds, then sighed as I handed over the bar of soap. Roland was no longer wearing his full armor, just a grey long-sleeved tunic, brown trousers, and boots. It was clear the soldiers were able to shower first, as he looked and smelled clean. With his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing skin as tan as Silas's, he began to lather the soap in his hands before setting the bar down and motioning for me to turn around.

Hesitantly, I obeyed.

Roland wasn’t as tall as Silas, who was around 6'3". He was probably a couple of inches shorter, but he still towered over me. He began massaging my scalp with his fingertips, and I tensed as chills spread across my body. I let out a deep exhale.

This feels good.

Roland actually put in a decent effort, making sure to scrub my head nicely. He ordered me to rinse it once before washing my hair again with more fresh soap.

“I can help with your body, too,” he said cautiously as he massaged my head. “I’ll avoid any areas you wish.”

I angled my head towards him, and he pulled his hands back, still covered in soap. He didn’t look smug or cruel. He looked sincere. It was confusing.

I turned my head away, and he resumed washing my hair. “Very well,” I mumbled.

After I rinsed my hair a second time and Roland rinsed the suds off of his hands, my heart quickened as I prepared for the next part.

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Well? ”

I took in a breath. “Not my breasts, crotch, or ass,” I said as plainly as I could.

He gave another half-smile and began to lather his hand once more. “I’ll start with your back.”

He began at my shoulders, and I tensed as he touched me, his grip firm but not painful. No, it felt good . He wasn’t just lightly running his hands along my shoulders; he was massaging them, and it felt amazing.

“What are you doing?” I breathed, beginning to feel pressure in between my thighs.

What the fuck, Lena?

“I assume your shoulders hurt from sleeping on the ground. I know mine sure as hell do.”

He continued kneading my shoulders, and a small moan left my lips, causing me to stiffen. Roland let out a small laugh.

“N-no more massaging. Let’s just get this over with.” I blushed, and I was grateful I wasn’t facing him. Being touch-deprived for so long had apparently messed with my head.

“Whatever you wish, Ginger Snap.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He let out another soft laugh, and when I looked back at him, his hazel eyes sparkled with amusement.

The rest of the shower went by quickly. He took the bar of soap in hand and ran it across the rest of my back, my stomach, and my legs and feet, avoiding all the areas I requested and not even so much as peeking at them. He then handed me the soap and let me wash said areas myself, and then the shower was over. I was handed a scratchy towel and given a brown t-shirt and a pair of pants made of cotton—an outfit they must give all prisoners .

“You have enough of these for everyone?” I questioned.

“We had an estimate for how many were in your village, so there should be enough.”

“You must’ve had this planned for a while,” I mumbled.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Roland called for a soldier to take away my clothes. I knew I’d never see them again.

“Can I have my necklace? I blurted out. He turned to me. “Please?”

Once we were to be hanged, any remaining valuables we had would be seized. I hoped Roland would extend his kindness and allow me to stay with mine a little longer.

Thankfully, he listened and fished out Ryia’s necklace, hesitating before clasping it back around my neck.

Afterward, Roland led me back to my cell and stopped when we were both inside. “Get dressed, and then you are asked to speak with the Prince.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. He stiffened at my words and then turned, exited the room, and leaned against the wall beside the cell room door, awaiting me to complete my task while giving me some privacy. He'd seen everything already, but while I didn't see the point in his gesture, I appreciated it.

I sighed as I scrunched my hair with the towel, drying it as best I could, and then slipped on the pants. Once I was ready to put on to the top, I frowned.

How am I to get the shirt on?

“Roland?” I asked meekly .

I just stood there topless with those hideous pants on as Roland sauntered back in.

“How am I—”

He walked up to me and placed a thumbprint on the metal link, and the bar split and retracted, the restraints now staying on my wrists like bracelets. The red gems on both wrists still glowed.

“They can be separated and still work?” I asked with wide eyes.

“It’s just easier to handle you people that way. Don’t want any of you to start swinging.”

I clenched my fists and gave him a sneer. “You’re saying I could’ve showered myself?” I gritted out.

He smirked, and I swung my fist to his face. Sadly, he caught my punch with his hand and chuckled.

“Just when I thought you might not be as big of a dick as I thought,” I muttered.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he teased, his laugh showing his bright teeth. “Though my dick is big,” he purred with a wink.

“You’re sick,” I spat as I pulled my fist back and flung my shirt over my head.

He chuckled, and when my top was on, he reattached the cuffs. “Come on, the Prince awaits.”

At that, my stomach dropped, and fear washed over me.

Time to face him.