children. I’d never heard anything about Damian having cousins in Dansii.
Akio nodded and bowed to his king, keeping one hand on my arm. “Yes, Sire. As you command.”
“She will remain in chains until we are assured of her cooperation,” Armando added. “But see to it that she is bathed and given clean clothes. I don’t want her brought to me looking like this ever again.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Akio agreed.
“That is all. Take her away.” King Armando dismissed us.
My last glimpse of King Armando showed a smile spreading across his face as he stared down at the bloodstain on his marble floor.
The room Akio brought me to was more luxurious than any I’d ever slept in before, except Damian’s. The bed wasn’t as big as his, but the sheets were silken, sliding over my body like water when I climbed into it that night after a servant had washed my hair and helped me bathe, before dressing me in light, soft clothes that were similar to the ones I’d seen other servants wearing — a long tunic over loose pants that gathered in tightly at the ankles. If it weren’t for the iron shackles on my wrists, I almost could have believed I was an esteemed guest, instead of King Armando’s prisoner. For two days, Akio worked on the wound I’d been given, healing it completely. He wasn’t as fast as Lisbet, but he was thorough. When he finally finished, the silver scar was so thin, I could barely see it.
I was given strange but flavorful food to eat. Flat breads that tasted of garlic, roasted poultry of some sort, a dish of thin, crisp green vegetables mixed with a tomato sauce and beef served over rice that the servant told me was called fasolia khadra, and even the occasional sweet roll drizzled with honey and rolled in small dried fruits. Sometimes, the spices on the meat, breads, and rice were too strong, irritating my tongue and throat. But I was too hungry to push it away. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I knew I’d need my strength. Armando wanted me for some reason, though for what I couldn’t imagine. If I had any hope of surviving this — of somehow finding a way to escape — I needed to be strong, not half-starved.
When I asked about my friends, about Rylan and Eljin, I was met with stony silence, making me fear the worst. Would King Armando have had them killed? My only hope was that he wished to keep them alive, at least for now, to use them against me if needed.
Though the shackles prevented me from some of my routine training, I tried to do what I could, using the weight of the iron bands to keep my arms strong as I pretended to parry unseen blows and jab an invisible sword through the hot, dry air. My room had a window, but there were bars over it. I found myself staring out of it for hours at a time, over the strange, barren landscape beyond the palace, dreaming of a different palace — a different king. The land here rolled in gentle, sandy hills in all directions. A river ran through the center of the landscape I could see; its banks were lined with verdant bushes and trees, but everywhere else was devoid of plant life. Strange animals with gangly, long legs and humps on their backs carried men in and out of the palace walls, alongside small, quick horses with flowing manes and tails.
I was told there was a city outside of the palace walls when I asked, but that it was on the other side of the building, which was why I couldn’t see it from my room. I wondered what their buildings looked like, how their people lived. Did they fall asleep at night fearing death? Or did they love the ruthless man they called king — did they appreciate the violence with which he reigned over his kingdom?
Akio was a mystery to me. I asked him about his life, how he came to be here in Dansii, why he served King Armando when he was clearly Blevonese, but he refused to answer my questions, changing the subject or ignoring me altogether.
On the third morning after I was brought to the cell-in-disguise, Akio entered the room with a woman on his heels. “She is to ready you to see the king,” he said before I could ask. “He has commanded you to