Page 96 of Escape from the Green

The reality was the hard stone floor making pressure points in all the wrong places, creating an ache that seemed to overtake my entire body at once.

The screaming in my temples felt more tolerable even if waking up made me suddenly, painfully aware of the burning in my ankle again.

I found myself unreasonably annoyed that she would wake me, rip me out of the only peace I had known for what had to be about a day and a half.

"What?" I grumbled, pushing myself to a seated position, brushing the grit of dirt and who-knew-what off my cheek.

"They're coming," she told me, almost sounding a bit excited. We hadn't been fed the day before. I figured she was glad to be fed. Which I understood given the grumbling of my stomach even if my thoughts were more leaning toward feminine issues with no supplies to be found since my bag was missing.

"Oh joy," I sighed, rolling a crick out of my neck, outwardly appearing a lot more calm than I was feeling inside. Which was pretty much facing a hellbeast level of panic as the footsteps came from stairs that were so far to one side of the cellar that I couldn't even see them.

"I don't think that is our meal," Venia observed. And since she knew a lot more about the sound of footsteps than I did, I guess I had no choice but to trust her.

But if not our meal, then what?

And, more importantly, who?

"Oh, boy," Venia said, shaking her head. "That was fast."

"Cass?" I hissed, eyes feeling like they were bugging which meant they definitely were.

My heartbeat skittered into overdrive as the sound of feet moved toward us.

Multiple sets.

Three, maybe?

Possibly more.

But no less than three.

"Get some fucking light on in here. I can't see my own hand in front of my face."

I knew that voice.

And, see, I didn't know Cass' voice.

And we were in the Dark Court.

So that meant...

Even as his name fluttered across my mind, a match flashed, setting a torch on fire, illuminating his darkly handsome face.

Jet.

"Jet?" I snapped, not meaning to. And certainly not meaning for my voice to sound quite so, well, pissed.

In response, one of his strong brows rose, but otherwise showed no sign that he was offended by my tone.

"That is His Royal Prince to you, prisoner," another voice pitched in from Jet's side.

I looked away from His Royal Prince finding three guards at the sides, one carrying a tray that he moved to set down next to Venia.

"Oh, am I not properly respectful of my fiancé imprisoning me?" I spat back at that guard, eyes shooting daggers, not caring if it would get me a kick.

"She's not wrong," Jet said casually, shrugging. "In fact, that is why we are here. Clearly, the guards brought you here in error. I am sure my father meant for you to be delivered to the guest quarters, not shackled in the cellar like a heretic."

From my side, Venia made some sort of noise, something akin to surprise and amusement at once, but she covered it up with one of her usual dry coughs, all dust and cobwebs. She said nothing.