When Nheera finally woke, her eyes felt unbearably dry and itchy, but that, as she would soon co to realize, was the least of her problems. Though she was awake, her thoughts remained sluggish and unfocused, her mind clouded by a thick haze that made it difficult to think clearly.
Barely lucid, she struggled to take stock of her surroundings. She was lying on a thin cot placed directly on the cold floor of a dimly lit space. The air around her was damp and stale, carrying a foul scent that made her stomach churn faintly.
The only source of light ca from high above her, a small opening carved into the thick stone wall, barely wide enough for her head to fit through. Pale sunlight filtered weakly through it, casting a narrow beam across the room and doing little to push back the shadows that clung stubbornly to every corner.
She couldn’t rember how she had gotten there. Whenever she tried to think back, her mind ca up blank, as though an entire stretch of her mories had simply been carved away. The harder she pushed herself to rember, the worse the pounding in her head beca.
Excruciating pain radiated through every inch of her body, so intense that it made it nearly impossible for her to gather her thoughts. It felt as though she had been crushed beneath sothing massive and then carelessly stitched back together. Her muscles ached fiercely, her bones throbbed, and even the smallest movent sent waves of agony coursing through her.
She couldn’t think properly through the pain.
She couldn’t even stand.
Her limbs felt impossibly heavy like each one had been shackled with lead bricks. Yet none of that compared to the pain in her face. A fierce burning sensation spread across it, seeping deep beneath her skin until it felt as though her flesh might lt from the bone itself.
Tentatively, she lifted a trembling hand to her face.
Instead of smooth skin, her fingers brushed against rough bandages.
Alarm shot through her imdiately.
Her breathing quickened as her hands moved frantically across her face, only to discover that nearly all of it was wrapped tightly in cloth. The bandages covered her cheeks, her jaw, part of her forehead, almost everything.
She must have hurt herself sohow.
But how? Why couldn’t she rember?
Panic began creeping into her chest. Worse still, there was no mirror nearby for her to assess the extent of the injury. She had no idea what lay beneath the bandages, and sohow that uncertainty frightened her more than the pain itself.
She wanted to scream, but her throat felt dry and painfully raw.
As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness, she finally noticed the row of thick steel bars lining what appeared to be the only exit.
Her stomach dropped.
A cell.
She was inside a prison cell.
No... that couldn’t be right. There had to be so mistake.
She was a queen. They couldn’t simply throw her into the dungeons like so common criminal.
Where was Hairan? Where was Laheir?
Neither of them would ever allow this.
Desperation gripped her as she tried to rise to her feet, but her legs imdiately gave out beneath her. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she collapsed back onto the floor. Breathing shakily, she resorted to crawling instead, dragging her body slowly toward the steel bars.
This is a mistake. The words repeated in her mind over and over like a mantra.
So far, she had not heard a single sound around her. No voices. No footsteps. Nothing. The silence was unnerving.
Still, she refused to let it deter her.
Reaching the bars at last, she grabbed hold of one and painfully pulled herself into a sitting position. Her entire body trembled from the effort, and she was already panting heavily by the ti she managed it. The grimy floor beneath her palm felt damp and filthy.
Disgust twisted in her stomach and she quickly jerked her hand away.
The air inside the cell was revolting.
It slled of mildew, rust, and sothing far fouler lurking beneath it all. To soone like Nheera, who was used to floral perfus, scented oils, and silk-draped chambers, the stench felt unbearable.
Once she finally caught her breath, she began calling out as loudly as she could.
"Help !"
Her voice echoed through the darkness.
"I demand to be released!"
She didn’t care who answered her calls. A guard. A servant. Anyone. As long as soone ca and got her out of there.
After shouting for so ti, she finally fell silent long enough to listen for approaching footsteps.
Nothing.
So she called out again, louder this ti, desperation bleeding into every word. She clung fiercely to the hope that eventually soone would hear her cries and co to her aid.
But no one ca.
She continued until the pain in her throat beca unbearable and her voice grew hoarse and broken. Eventually, all she could do was sit there on the filthy floor, exhausted and dejected.
She had never felt this powerless before. Not even during the years she spent living under her drunkard father, whose temper often turned violent whenever he was intoxicated. Even then, she had possessed so asure of control over her life.
Here, she had none.
From that helplessness ca rage.
How dare they? She was their queen.
She had ruled this kingdom for decades. They had no right to throw her into a dark, rancid cell like this.
A pained cry lodged itself in her throat.
Using the last of her strength, Nheera slamd her fists repeatedly against the steel bars in anger and frustration. The loud clang echoed loudly.
Still, nothing happened. No one ca for her.
She was utterly alone.
Slowly, the fury drained from her, leaving only exhaustion behind. She leaned back against the wall, only to recoil faintly at the grimy dampness coating it. Yet she lacked the strength to move away.
Closing her eyes, she desperately tried once more to rember how she had ended up there. Why her body hurt so badly and why her face was hidden beneath layers of bandages.
But her mories remained fractured.
She recalled preparing for Hairan’s coronation then nothing else. A terrifying blankness swallowed the rest.
Nheera wasn’t sure how long she sat there before the sound of a heavy door creaking open shattered the silence.
Her eyes snapped open instantly.
A mont later she heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps.
Anticipation surged through her chest.
She spotted a flickering light slowly growing brighter in the darkness beyond the bars. Before she could even push herself upright properly, a figure had already stopped in front of her cell.
The person held an oil lamp in one hand, and its warm golden light spilled across the small space, driving away most of the shadows that had surrounded her.
For the first ti since waking, Nheera could finally see clearly.
Her vision spun violently from the sudden brightness after so long in the dark. The light pouring into the cell stabbed at her eyes, making her head throb painfully.
It was only when the newcor crouched down that she was finally able to make out his face properly.
Falein Tomar watched her from the other side of the cell. The look on his face was hard to decipher as his eyes swept over her current state. There was no pity in his gaze. No concern. Only a cold sort of observation like he was studying the suffering of an animal trapped in a cage.
The sight of him dragged buried mories to the surface.
Ragnar and Circe standing together at her son’s coronation.
The crowded hall.
The roar of voices.
The knife in her hand.
Hands grabbing her face.
Then pain. Mind shattering pain that left her grasping for consciousness.
"What are you doing here?" Nheera asked weakly.
"Isn’t it obvious?" Falein replied calmly. "I ca to see how you were faring." His eyes moved over her body before his lip curled "Not too well, from what I can see."
She could not tell whether there was mockery hidden beneath his words. The agony consuming her body made it difficult to properly decipher his tone. Every breath hurt. It hurt to even speak.
"Where is this?" she asked. "Am I still in the palace? Where is my son?"
The questions rushed out without pause.
She disliked Falein deeply, but he was the only person she had seen since waking up, and she was desperate. She needed answers.
"Your son?" Falein repeated slowly, as though savoring her confusion.
"My son, Hairan," she snapped. "Your king. Where is he? I need to speak to him. Does he know where I am?"
Falein rely stared at her.
For a few dreadful seconds, she expected him to sneer at her for daring to make demands in her condition. But when he finally spoke, his words were far worse than anything she could have imagined.
"Do you know what yesterday was?" he asked softly.
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