Soul of Ice

Chapter Thirty-One

They left quietly, the guards shielding her so that the attendees at the ball didn't even realized that someone had been arrested. They prodded her forward, leading her out of the ballroom, through the elegant hallways of the castle, and into the bowels of the castle, where every surface was dank and dirty.

Most of the cells were empty, but the few that were occupied...

"What did a princess like you do to get pushed in here?" someone mocked. It was too dark to see the features of his face. All Astra could see was a vaguely human shape crouching down near the back of a cell.

One of her guards unlocked an empty cell, thankfully not adjacent next to any of the occupied ones, and pushed her in. Astra stumbled in and heel caught the edge of the material of her underskirt, and she went sprawling on the dirt ground. Behind her, she caught the sounds of muffled snickers from the guards.

She didn't bother getting back up as the guard locked the cell door, and the four guards that had escorted her walked away to return to the visible square of light above. Even that square disappeared when they closed the dungeon doors behind them, leaving her in the dark with only the intermittently spaced candles on the walls for light.

Astra sighed and leaned forward to touch the thick bars of her cell—they were cold, bumpy, and rusted over. She could easily break these bars with her powers—freeze them until they shattered—but there was no point. Xernes knew exactly how to hurt her, and once he heard about her escape, he wouldn't hesitate to carry it out.

Unless she was fast enough to grab the prince.

She snorted at the idea. She would be lucky enough to get herself out if she tried escaping, much less a second person.

Astra pushed off the ground and dusted off her skirt as best as she could, leaving her palms rough and gritty from the dirt, and sat down on the threadbare bed at the back of her cell. Her skirts dragged against the ground, and she was pretty sure that if the lighting was better, she would see scuffs on the fabric and rips and tears. Not that it mattered much anymore. A destroyed ball gown was the least of her worries.

She pulled off the heels and threw them at the far corner as hard as she could. The loud impacts gave her satisfaction.

"Wha' you doin' down there, princess?" that same voice came.

Astra swung her feet on the bed and wrapped her arms around her legs. So this was it—her last few hours of freedom, if being locked in a cell could be called freedom.

It was even easier here, in this solitude and darkness, to let another tear roll down her cheek. She had been a fool. A fool to think she had successfully escaped Xernes' grip. And she was sick with the realization that if things had been just a bit different, if she had been just a bit more lucky, she would have succeeded. Luck. She was not lucky.

Astra sat there, staring into the empty darkness, for what felt like hours until the sound of a voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Hey." A male voice. His voice sounded familiar—one that was deep, but smooth, soft-spoken, almost, yet with a distinct confidence.

"Who's there?" Astra asked, lifting her head. A dark shadowy figure stood on the other side of her bars, and she peered at him, trying to discern his features. "How did you get in?"

"Olan," he said. Oh. The Aerisian ambassador. "I stole the key ring off of a palace guard. I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

She frowned, her eyes narrowing at the shadowy figure that was the ambassador. "About what."

There was a pause, then, "Riviera."

Astra blinked in surprise, and then moved, letting her bare feet touch the ground. She leaned forward in interest, elbows on her legs. "Riviera. Why?"