Enjoyed herself with him? Fuck, why did I let him get to me. Stupid, prick. Ethan grumbled as he threw open one of the cupboards looking for the stiff liquor that he knew Regis used to hide from his daughter. You haven’t changed old man. Sighing to himself as he reached in grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a swig from the glass bottle needing the stinging feeling running down his throat to calm him down. Glancing at his watch he knew they would still be sometime yet; those meetings always went on forever and they were no doubt discussing when they would kill the Prince.

Shaking his head, he trudged into the living room throwing himself onto the sofa ignoring the Prince locked beneath them. He did not want to deal with him anymore because it only angered him and he couldn’t hurt him, not yet. Maybe I’ll request to wring his neck myself. That will make me feel better. Closing his eyes as he decided to rest on the sofa for a little bit knowing it couldn’t hurt, no one was home and the Prince was unlikely to escape. The bounds were tight, and he was locked behind bars and the only person who had keys to access that was Regis.

Stupid Prince… Was the last thought of Ethans as he fell asleep on the sofa clinging to the bottle of whiskey in his hands. The slow rise and fall of his chest signalled that he had fallen into a slumber.

--

The hours had passed, and they were still at the meeting, Iris inwardly groaned wondering just how long it would continue to go on for. Surely, it’s around dinner time and they have yet to come to a decision? Bunch of old bickering men, just as bad as the monarchy. “Come on, can we just forget about the what ifs, what didn’t happen and what could have happened. It’s getting us nowhere and I’m sure we would all like to return to our homes and have some sort of dinner.”

“Well said.” Regis nodded as he waved his hands hushing the men who were sat around the table, hearing the grumbles he just rolled his eyes not even entertaining them as the arguments would just continue on. “I think we are all in agreement he needs to be killed, for the greater good. To finally end their line.”

Iris flinched hoping that he had not chosen death, that was not what she wanted. She never wanted any of this to happen and it only furthered in her guilt. If we kill him… we will all be killed. I can only imagine the rage from the King, and I can bet he would burn everything to the ground. No one would come out lightly. Glancing to her hands that where trembling she clenched them into fists to stop the show of weakness, she would not look weak in front of these men as they already labelled her as such. A stupid woman with a heart.

“All in favour or having him killed in three days.” Regis called out as he raised his own hand, watching the men a few hesitated whilst others shot their hand in the air eager to comply. Casting a sharp look at a few men who then hurriedly held their hand up agreeing, but then his eyes landed on his daughter who had not raised her hand. “What are you playing at?” Hissing at her the looked of anger in his eyes.

“I… I don’t condone such violence.” Looking away from her father as she did not want to see the disappointment in his eyes as she folded her arms shaking her head. “I can’t. Mother would not have wan…”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare speak her name you insolent child.” Regis hissed his blood boiling at how his daughter was acting hand raising as if to hit her in front of everyone.

“Regis. She has been through a lot. The amnesia is probably affecting her.” Henry spoke up quickly placing his hand on his shoulder hoping it would calm him.

“Yes. Of course.” Spitting out as he shook his head shrugging off the hand on his shoulder as he glanced around the men who had fallen silent. “Majority rules. He will be killed three days from now. At sundown.” Rising to his feet as he looked at his daughter, “Go home. Me and Henry have business to discuss about your relationship with Ethan.”

Receiving a call that his son was missing was not the way Atlas had expected to start his day.

When Jacob had phoned the palace, he had still been in bed, groggy on the aftereffects of the cocktail of medication he had to take before he fell asleep every night. Unable to get up quite yet, he’d asked one of the sit-in security guards to take care of it. The man he complied, but he’d only gotten about two more minutes of peace and quiet before the guard had returned and insisted that he take the call, himself. Irritably, the king had complied, sitting up on his mattress and taking the phone from his hand. He couldn’t think of a good reason why someone would have been so insistent on disturbing him so early in the morning when Caspian could manage the issue by himself. So, intending to give the caller an earful, he had lifted the device to his ear and curled his lip to snarl into the receiver only to fall speechless when the man on the other end said those four little words: The prince is gone.

Forgetting his condition, Atlas untangled himself from the sheets and fumbled to jump up from his bed as soon as Jacob finished relaying most of the information to him. Ellie was at his side in a heartbeat, hurriedly yet tentatively asking him to sit down before he hurt himself, but the monarch didn’t listen. Right now, the pain in his legs was inconsequential. His son—his only living heir—was missing. Pressing one hand against the bedpost to steady himself, he uttered a string of curses, each word fouler than the last. “How could you have let this happen?” he snapped angrily into the phone. “Those bastards are nothing more than annoying pests. There is no reason that they should have gotten away with this!”

The prince snuck out on his own, Your Majesty, Jacob replied slowly, trying to keep the king calm with his own mellow voice. We reviewed the security footage from last night. He left the grounds with the amnesiac girl of his own free will, and the vehicle they took turned up by the edge of the forest. I believe she may have been complicit in the attack—

“Attack?” Atlas raised his voice furiously. “You said my son was missing, not that he was attacked! Do you even know if he’s still alive?” His blood roared in his ears, and his vision had turned red. If the Scourge had killed his only successor, the monarchy was doomed. He couldn’t have any other children because even if he reversed the vasectomy he’d gotten for his deceased wife, the drugs he was taking for his illness had left him sterilized. Caspian was the only man standing in the way of the crown’s collapse. It was the reason why he believed the rebellion had chosen this period of time to start a war. The monarchy had never been this feeble before, and it probably never would be again.

It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but we found a large rock stained with blood that we believe belongs to Prince Caspian. It seems that the enemy may have used it to knock him out, so they could take him without a struggle. I believe he’s still alive though. There was no blood anywhere else on the premises, and the spatter on the rock wasn’t enough to have come from a fatal wound.

“Damn it!” Atlas roared, throwing a punch at the bedpost. “I should have had that bitch killed while I had the chance.” He knew Iris was to blame. None of this had happened until she’d shown up at the palace. She was a snake in their den, but because he’d let Caspian have his way, he might have just lost his son. “Call the general and tell him that I want every soldier working on this case—even the off-duty men. Have every non-high born visitor in the capital apprehended and taken to the prison for holding until they can be questioned. If there is even the slightest hint that a commoner has dealings with the Scourge, they are to be executed immediately. Those bastards are going to regret laying even one finger on my son.”

Yes, Your Majesty.

“And Jacob,” Atlas growled. “You and your men had better bring him back alive, or I’ll have each and every one of you sentenced to death as well for neglect of duties.”

…Of course, Your Majesty.

--

Time was unreadable in the never changing blackness of Cas’s prison. He laid on his back, having woken up from his nap a while ago, and stared blankly up at the ceiling. His hands rested over his stomach, fingers toying idly with his rope bindings. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last had anything to drink, but judging by the cotton ball feeling in his mouth and the dehydration headache that had started to wrap its tendrils around his skull, it had probably been close to a full day. He tried to remember how long humans could go without water before they died. Was it something like three days? What happens in the days leading up to that point? He wondered, heaving a sigh as he rolled onto his side. Am I just going to get weaker until I can’t open my eyes anymore? Or maybe I’ll start hallucinating or something. He found himself hoping for the latter. At least that way, he might have a method to keep himself entertained while he waited for the soldiers to break him out of his cell.

How do P.O.W.s put up with this for so long? He groaned aloud at the thought. He probably hadn’t been locked up for more than a day—if that—yet he was already bored out of his mind and so exhausted that he was starting to feel tremors coming on. Part of him was starting to regret turning his nose up to the food and water Iris had brought for him before too. It had been a dumb idea. If nothing else, he should have filled his stomach so he could keep his energy up in case he was able to escape. Instead, because he’d let his pride get the best of him, he was famished, laying on the cold floor with nothing to stave off the hunger and thirst that was now constantly nagging at him. He’d just made himself more miserable.

Trying to get his mind off his discomfort, he forced himself to sit up so he could work on the ropes around his ankles again. He may not have been able to get at the ties on his wrists very easily, but if he put in enough effort, he was sure he could at least free his feet. Lucky for me, they didn’t think to use zip ties… he thought to himself, fingering the coarse bindings as he attempted to loosen the knot.

The journey home had been simple, her father and Henry had dropped her off before heading out in the beaten-up car to attend to business. More like get drunk, what have I done? They want to kill him in three days. This is my fault alone; I should never have agreed to it… but then would I be the one in a cell? Would it be me facing treason? Sighing as she walked inside with a heavy heart, she caught sight of Ethan passed out on the sofa holding the bottle of whiskey, narrowing her eyes at the site she moved over snatching it from his hand before nudging him awake. “Ethan… what the hell?”

It was enough that her father favoured the alcoholic beverage let alone him as well. Just another thing that is my fault. Shaking her head as Ethan began to stir, she took a step back folding her arms, “You don’t need to be like him.”

“Oh, cut it out Iris. Stop acting like you case, you don’t care about me. I can’t give you what you want. I’m not like him” Ethan growled as he rubbed his arms coming around from the rather rude awakening.

“You know what, no. You can’t. I may have lost most of my memories, but I still remember as clear as day when you broke my heart so don’t even. You know deep down we were only together to keep our fathers happy.” Iris stated clearly as she looked down at him, she didn’t want him pushing her around like this when she knew she had messed up.

“Whatever. Hope you’re happy with yourself.” Pushing himself off of the chair he slammed the bottle of whiskey on the table as he headed to the door, “This will all be over in a few days, he will be dead and you’ll come crawling back to me because I’m the only one who will love you.” Not even waiting for a response he had stormed out of the home, front door slamming behind him as he left her alone in the house.

Glancing down at the floor she held her tears in, she would not cry, and she would not let the words get to her even though they stung. Taking a deep breath, she moved into the kitchen to scramble something together for dinner, it was going to be quite the challenge however she knew she could do it. I liked to cook; I remember that about myself even though I’m questioning who I am now. Wiping her eyes, she looked through the cupboards rummaging for whatever ingredients she could get her hands on, thankfully there was some sort of rice which she knew she could make something with. It wouldn’t be anything amazing, but it was better than nothing.

It was nothing amazing as there was no fresh ingredients or meat to go with the dish, but she had found a questionable egg in the fridge. With that in mind she had decided to make egg fried rice confident in what she was doing, it had to be muscle memory she was certain of it and just this little piece of information made her smile for a moment. Forgetting the horrid reality of what was going on right now.

Looking at her creation she portioned out the meal into two separate bowls. One for her father if he wanted something to eat when he returned and the last for Caspain as she had lost all appetite, she was full of guilt instead. Grabbing the bowl for Caspain she took a fresh glass of water just in case, but when she looked at the tiny bowl in her hands, she found herself cringing. He won’t eat this, he hates me… why did I bother?

Shaking away her thoughts she moved towards the basement with items in hand, whether he ate it or not was his choice. At least she had done something. Not enough though. Three days? I… I’m so stupid. I should never have done this. Moving quietly into the basement in case he was sleeping she quietly placed the bowl of egg fried rice and glass of water before taking a step back. Hesitating slightly she looked to the door wondering if she should leave, deep down she didn’t want too.

Alone and uninterrupted for what he guessed was something like an hour, Cas managed to slip one of the strands of rope loose from his ankles and pulled the binding off. As soon as it was removed, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but at least now he had the option to stand up and pace if he wanted to. He had been getting tired of alternating between sitting and laying down, and he was better prepared to run if someone gave him the chance to get out. He still couldn’t get the ties off his wrists though. Once he’d finished working on his feet, he’d tried to wriggle his hands loose enough to pull at the knot, but it was too tight. All he succeeded in doing was chafing his skin until one of his wrists began to bleed. Discouraged by the stinging pain of the cut, he left it alone and busied himself instead by getting up and walking in small circles to burn some of his pent-up energy.

Once he had stood up, he noticed that his knees were bruised. Of course, he was sure he was covered in dark marks all over his body, but the ones on his knees were more painful than the others. He guessed that the rebels must have banged him on something while he’d been unconscious. The thought made him roll his eyes. He never asked anyone to treat him special because he was the crown prince, and he didn’t expect the Scourge to show him any respect for the title, but it was irritating to know that they’d tossed him around like he was no better than luggage at the airport. He was probably going to be sore for a week.

As he bent over to stretch his legs, he jumped at the sound of the door opening. He didn’t want to rebels to know that he’d gotten out of his bonds, so he quickly dropped to the floor and threw the strand of rope over his ankles to make it look like he was still tied up. He just hoped they would assume he was shuffling around because he was uncomfortable and not because he was slowly working on his own escape. He wished he had a way to know when someone was coming before they reached the door though. The way things were, now he only had a tiny window in between the time the door opened and the time someone was standing outside his dingy cell.

Fortunately, it was just Iris who had come to see him this time. Cas relaxed in spite of himself. He knew she was a rebel, but he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t picture her as someone dangerous like the others. The illusion she’d painted of a perfect, innocent girl was still alive inside his mind, so he wasn’t afraid of her. His feelings for her had been shredded, lit on fire, and thrown out the window, but he wasn’t scared.

As she set down another plate of food and glass of water outside the bars, he watched her with a frown. He couldn’t understand why she was still doing anything for him when she’d already gotten what she wanted. She’d tricked the king’s son into voluntarily walking away from his protection, so she and the rest of the Scourge could end the royal line. There was nothing else he could give her that he could think of. Is she trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome? he wondered, remembering the condition from one of his classes back in high school. Maybe she was trying to get him to warm up to her again, so he wouldn’t try to run away.

Too bad I care more about getting home than I ever would about her, he leaned his head against the ground obstinately. He’d already fallen for her games one too many times, and he wasn’t going to let her get inside his head again. But… his eyes wandered to the water glass she’d left for him. Right now, she was the only one who was keeping him from turning into a dehydrated husk. Perhaps if he let her think her plan was working, she would keep it up, so he wouldn’t waste away before the soldiers found him. At the very least, he could throw her some bait so she wouldn’t lose interest.

“Why are you still doing this?” he asked, breaking the silence between them as he sat up against the wall. His voice was husky from lack of use, and he cleared his throat before going on. “I’m not just going to forget that you lied to me and betrayed my trust, Iris. If you’re still stopping by to get me to let my guard down again, you might as well save yourself the trouble and quit it, because it isn’t going to work.”

Flinching at his words she knew she had lied to him, betrayed his trust but she wasn’t here to get him to like her again. She didn’t want him to let his guard down because she knew she had already completely messed things up, something that she would regret for the rest of her life. “I…” Sighing softly as she sat down on the opposite side of his cell using the wall to lean against. “I don’t expect you to just forget what I did nor do I expect you to let your guard down. What I did is unforgiveable and something I will have to live with.”

Looking over at the bowl of food she had placed down with the glass she caught site of the discarded one kicked aside, and she knew it had to be Ethan. She could see the blanket thrown to the other side of the room and a part of her wanted to give it to him, but she stopped herself not wanting to make things worse between them. “I just want to show you that not every rebel or civilian on this side of the Capital is horrible, or a terrorist.” That’s not it, but I can’t tell him I still have feelings for him because he will think I am lying. I’ve lost his trust.

“It’s not much, just food and water. I’m not a savage.” Whispering her words as she ran fingers through her hair, the sleeve of her top shifted revealing finger mark bruises around her wrist from the way Ethan had grabbed her the night of his kidnapping.

“I know I messed up greatly Cas, I know I’m beyond redemption, beyond forgiveness but again I never lied about my feelings. That was not an act.” She knew it would be hard to believe her, but there was no sense of dishonesty in her voice because she was not lying. “I never wanted to hurt you… Although I know I have.” Lowering her head in shame as she focused her gaze on her feet, “I panicked when I found out the truth. Ethan told me that you’d have me killed, then you caught those two rebels who were there to rescue me. I thought that you would maybe release them, punish them of course, but the death sentencing… I forgot who I was. I was convinced that the only option was to leave, or I’d be killed. I was vulnerable and Ethan managed to convince me that kidnapping you would be for the best. That it would make up for me cheating on him because I did have a boyfriend.”

Placing her head in her hands not even sure that opening up would help, that he would even care about it and her reasons for why she had done what she did. “All I can say is I’m sorry. I… I know it’s not good enough.” Stuttering on her words slightly because she had faltered, I was never good enough for you anyway. “Just… try to eat. Keep your strength up so that when the military do find you, they at least have a Prince to take back.” They will find him, hopefully within a few days. I don’t doubt their abilities. Maybe then it will be an end to this war, to this miserable life.

Yeah, right, Cas thought bitterly when Iris began acting like she was sorry for what she’d done. It was unforgiveable, but he didn’t believe for a second that she actually felt any remorse for what she had done. It was all just part of the game she was playing. She was pretending to be ashamed, so he would think she was someone he could confide in when the reality was that she had been his enemy from the very beginning. He wasn’t going to fall for her manipulations a second time. When he’d trusted her in the capital, he’d gotten himself abducted. He didn’t even want to know what would happen if he let her play with his heart while they were in the Scourge’s territory. For his own safety, he continued to watch her with a keen eye, refusing to allow himself to empathize with the pain on her face so she couldn’t get to him.

As she went on, he fought the urge to scoff. He already knew that not all the citizens outside of the capital were terrorists, but the rebels were, by definition, enemies of the crown. He was a Maydestone, so he was the crown. Even if the Scourge tricked the common people into believing that they had their best interests at heart, they were openly hostile to the high borns and the royals at the top of the upper echelon. Ethan had said they were going to kill him too. He wasn’t going to buy into their crap that they were actually good people just because she had brought him enough food and water to stay alive. That wasn’t how it worked.

“Maybe you’re not, but your boyfriend is,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he pictured the cruel smile that had twisted Ethan’s face when he’d said that the rebels were going to kill him. Even though he’d sentenced two people to death just a few days ago, he wasn’t so heartless that he would have delivered the news with a grin. Only psychopaths were that sadistic.

When Iris lifted her arm, he glanced at her briefly. For a second, he’d thought he saw something on her wrist, but it was so dark in the room that he couldn’t tell. He considered it for a second longer before he shrugged it off as a shadow and was distracted by her assertion that her feelings for him had been real. Here we go again, he sighed, bending one leg slightly to bring his knee to his chest. However, he quickly remembered that his feet were supposed to be bound, and he snapped his leg back down on the ground before she could tell that the rope wasn’t actually tied to anything.

“You keep saying you’re sorry and that you didn’t mean to hurt me, but tell me something,” he looked up at her with distrust in his eyes. His stomach begged him to dive for the food and water at her feet, but he wouldn’t move until he had answers. “Why were you in the capital to begin with? If you’re related to the leader of this whole damn rebellion, I can’t imagine you were just there for sightseeing. What were you really doing there if you didn’t mean to kidnap me?”

My boyfriend is? Perhaps Ethan is, he can be a bit rough. Glancing to her wrist as she touched the small finger bruises that had developed, a part of her had a feeling that this had happened before. He isn’t my boyfriend anymore, maybe I dodged a bullet on that one. It was strange how she felt, a part of her didn’t understand it fully as she was still piecing her memories and thoughts together. It was nice however to be in a familiar setting, she was remembering more each day so hopefully she would feel somewhat normal again in a couple of days.

“I was there to kill you; I was sent to assassinate your family.” She could see the distrust in his eyes, and she didn’t blame him one bit, especially after what had happened. “Had I not smacked my head against that rock and lost who I was we may have met in different circumstances, me being executed for treason.” She knew she would not have gotten anywhere near to kill him, not with the security they had and deep down in her heart she knew she wouldn’t be able to kill anyone. Iris could have lied; said she was there under different circumstances but what else could happen? She had broken their trust, their relationship and being honest was the best way to go. She had nothing else to lose.

“But… you have to understand, that’s how I was raised. I was raised to believe that your family did not care about us. That the people who lived outside of the Capital were dirt, just as you have been raised to believe that we are terrible people… well there are some who are terrible I guess.” Rambling slightly as she shook her head, “You get my point there, we have both been raised differently to believe different things. We have both witnessed different things and been exposed to different things. I’m by no means justifying my actions.”

Sighing to herself she knew something she had remembered whilst she couldn’t sleep last night, the full truth about her mother. The photo of her mother than was on her bedside table had triggered it. “I told you the rebellion had something to do with my mother’s death, right? Well we don’t get much access to food here or medicine, sometimes even water and she always spent her life trying to help others. She’d take care of the sick, the injured but sadly she had gotten ill herself. Cancer. Something the Capital could have cured, could have helped with. My father begged, pleaded to arrange a way to pay, but well. She’s no longer with us.”

Looking away as she pushed herself up onto her feet she glanced back at Cas, “And no I’m not saying this for sympathy, nor to make you feel bad for me. I’m saying this so you understand how differently our lives compared. She was the reason it sparked a rebellion, the people loved her here and it broke my father who had worked hard to provide for the family. It caused the rebellion my father leading it. He… has never been the same.”

“IRIS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT. DISCUSSING THINGS WITH HIM.” A booming voice roared as the door to the basement slammed open. “I am so disappointed with you. Showing him kindness. He would not have showed you the same kindness in return.” Spitting his words as he looked between his daughter and the Prince in the cell. Storming down into the basement he glared at his daughter, an empty bottle of beer in his hand as you could see the rage in his eyes. It was clear this man was broken, angry and somewhat drunk.

Caspian had been the one to prompt her for an answer, but when Iris said she had been sent to kill him, he looked away from her with a pained expression. There were a lot of different thoughts running through his head. Firstly, he couldn’t believe he’d taken his assassin into his care. Even though it hadn’t been his intention, he’d put himself and his father in danger by trusting that she was a high born despite the fact that he’d found her on the edge of the city and that she had no form of identification to prove that she wasn’t an intruder. It would have been safer to follow Atlas’s instructions and have her sent to a cell until the guards figured out who she was. But no. Instead of doing the logical thing, he’d had to go and play hero and welcome her into the home she would have otherwise had to break into to do her job.

Alongside that realization, he also felt manipulated. She may have lost her memories for a while, but by the time he’d confessed that he liked her, she had known she there to kill him. Yet she’d still indulged him and let him believe there was something between them. He hated how easily she’d been able to string him along, while he hadn’t even considered the possibility that she’d been lying. He had been so blinded by infatuation and the conviction that she was a high born that he’d walked right into her trap.

Some leader I’m turning out to be, he thought bitterly. If he was able to escape or if the soldiers found him before the rebels killed him, he was going to be much more careful in the future. He owed it to himself and to his father to be a better ruler who wouldn’t put Aspiria in jeopardy with his unrealistic beliefs that most people were good. Once he was back in the safety of the mansion, he was going to take his training much more seriously.

As Iris went on to explain herself by talking about the way she had been raised, Cas said nothing. Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to talk to her anymore, he was also tired of hearing the Scourge’s excuses for trying to dismantle the monarchy. He knew they thought his family was corrupt, and he knew they thought they were just for causing an uproar, but it didn’t change the reality that they were in the wrong. It was frustrating to hear both Ethan and Iris talk about their cause as if it wasn’t the source of all the suffering happening in their country.

He managed not to look her in the eyes until she brought up her mother. At the revelation that she had lost her life to cancer, he looked up with a mixture of hesitation and surprise. Fail-proof treatments and vaccines had been invented to treat that disease decades ago, so it was hard for him to believe that someone had died because of it recently. However, there was no sign of dishonesty on her face. He squirmed, unsure what to think. At the very least, her mother’s case was worth looking into to find out why she hadn’t been treated for her illness. If—when—he returned to the capital, he would have to remember to ask around for an obituary.

“I know words won’t bring your mother back, but I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. Having lost his own mother a few years ago, he understood what she was going through. He parted his lips to go on, but before he could, he flinched at the thunder of an angry voice. As the door flew open, he turned toward the opening, squinting against the light that came through from the other side. The silhouette of a man stood at the top of the stairs, but it wasn’t Ethan this time.

The stranger marched down into the room, and Cas studied him silently, unable to place who he was looking at. He’d never seen this guy before, but it had to be someone from the rebellion. Whoever he was, the rage in his voice made the hairs on the back of the prince’s neck stand up, and he sat tensely, hoping this wasn’t going to be his next guard. He’d already had enough of Ethan. He didn’t need to put up with this man too.

“Father… it’s not like that.” Iris whispered rather quickly as she looked at him eyes glancing down at the bottle in his hand, the smell of alcohol was apparent once more and she knew that he had been drinking. When didn’t he drink nowadays? Feeling the uncomfortable in his presence she knew that he was angry, he hated the monarchy. It was clear to see the hatred he held for them; how bitter he had become over the years after losing his wife.

“Oh? Then what is it like? I’ve heard of your escapades with them. Cuddling up to the enemy.” Slurred angry words left his mouth as he narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Did you sleep with him?” Holding up a finger as he pointed to her still holding the empty beer bottle.

“What? No!? It was never… what has gotten into you?” Iris stuttered at the accusations, does Ethan think that?

“What has gotten into you more like. Do you think you’re better than us now? I bet you wanted to stay, live that lifestyle. I bet you faked the amnesia all so you could escape your life. Had it not been for Ethan we’d have nothing right now. We wouldn’t have him rotting in our cell, waiting for his death.” Without any warning he threw the empty bottle smashing it against the cell bars, no care if he hurt the Prince or anyone else for that matter because he was angry. Bitter and he was not calming down easily.

Flinching at the sound of smashing glass she frowned looking at her father, a man she barely recognised. “What are you doing? You should not act like this, show weakness in front of anyone.” She hoped that he would think of her words, change his behaviour so he would not continue to act like this in front of others. However, she had been wrong, it only angered him further.

In one swift motion the sound of a slap could be heard as he struck his daughter around the face, “Insolent child talking back to me, I have never been more ashamed. Go to your room. I’ll deal with you later.” Fire burned in his eyes as he glared at his daughter, seething at the fact his daughter was talking back to him. He knew deep down he should not be acting like this, but the rage would not allow him to see through it.

Willing herself not to cry she turned on her heel head held high as she exited the basement, a part of her did not want to leave him alone with Cas but there was nothing else she could do. There was no way she could stand in between them, he would either kill her Caspain for that matter and it was best to let him calm down himself. Cas won’t be stupid; he won’t anger him more… I hope. Feeling her heart race as she moved to her room, although he had struck her. Although he had been nasty, she knew he was not always like this, he was an honourable man he had just been through a lot.

“Now you. I hope you’re ready for your death. Might even make a spectacle of it. How would your father enjoy a piece of you being delivered each day? Maybe it will kill his weak heart.” Regis spoke coldly as he turned his attention to the Prince in the cell. Regis was not thinking straight, although he had an anger problem, he never used to be like this, before the passing of his wife he was different. People could not have predicted the change in him when she had passed, it was like he was a completely different person. Especially when influenced with the alcohol intake.

Father. Caspian’s eyes widened as he made the connection. This man was Regis Nox-Fleuret, the leader of the Scourge. He was shocked that someone as high up the ladder as Regis would show his face in a prison cell, but maybe he’d just come by for Iris since they were family. However, he wasn’t acting like the prince would have expected of a parent. The man’s tone was sharp, and he was looking at her with nothing but anger in his eyes. Even if she had disobeyed some order he had given her, it seemed harsh for him to speak to her so furiously when all she’d done was talk to their prisoner for a minute.

As the father and daughter conversed, Cas couldn’t help but gawk at them. He was grateful that the room was dark enough to veil his expression for the most part because his surprise was written all over his face. He was both baffled and disgusted that Regis would accuse Iris of sleeping with him. For one thing, she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions about who she chose to be with. For another, he couldn’t understand why the rebel leader was so upset when their plan had worked. What did it matter how she had tricked him if they had managed to capture him either way? It seemed like he was upset that she had even pretended to be interested in him so that he’d go with her to the woods.

He sucked in his breath and turned his head away as the glass bottle struck the bars of his cell and shattered. He’s insane, he thought, wincing at the feeling of a sting in his cheek. One of the broken shards had nicked him in its flight path. Not long after, the sound of a slap followed, and he looked up again incredulously as Regis ordered Iris to her room like a rambunctious toddler. He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed, but even more so, he was astounded that Iris would side with a man who hit her. If this was the way members of the Scourge treated each other, it seemed obvious to him that they weren’t people who could be trusted.

Still, she followed the order, and Cas watched with a frown as she hurried out of the room. Even though she was the one who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place, he couldn’t help but feel a little pity for her. No one deserved to be treated like that. And, if he was honest, he still had some faint, residual feelings for her that had yet to disappear. It was difficult for him to watch someone he’d gotten close to be treated like she was less than dirt.

Regis spoke again, and Cas turned back to him cagily. The image the rebel painted was gruesome, and he swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat, trying to remember that the Scourge wouldn’t have the chance to kill him before the soldiers found him and brought him home. He’s just trying to scare me, he assured himself, taking a deep breath and meeting the other man’s gaze with narrowed eyes. Even more than when Ethan had been in the room, he couldn’t show Regis that he was frightened of him. He had to appear strong because he was Aspiria’s future king. Besides, he had already figured out that the rebels weren’t going to touch him, otherwise Iris’s boyfriend would have punched him earlier.

“Like hell it will,” he said, tilting his chin up defiantly as his confidence returned. “I’m not going to die at the hands of a man who treats his daughter like that. She did what you wanted, yet you practically accused her of prostituting herself! You should be ashamed of yourself.” He scoffed. “You call yourself a leader, but this rebellion is a joke. I hope you’re ready for death, because it won’t be long before Aspiria’s army squashes all of you like bugs.”

He is not always like this. I have to remind myself of that. He is still hurt about what happened. Iris bit her lip as she picked up the photo of her mother, it was a happy picture inside. It depicted a family, a younger her as a child and a beaming mother and father proudly standing behind her with hands on her shoulder. Touching the glass, she could feel a light coating of dust on the photo and sighed, her memories returning were more consistent and she knew her father had his moments. He was never this bad… something had to have happened. Is it the whole rebellion? I don’t know, maybe I have changed?

Touching her cheek, she winced as she felt the sting still there, she hadn’t expected to be struck. In fact, she didn’t think he had hit her before. Not that she could remember anyway. It’s my fault, he is mad I probably gave him food or something. Maybe the other guys annoyed him? He would have been with Henry and Ethan and it seems like they had to be talking about my fascination with the Prince and how close I got with him. That had to have angered him, since he is convinced it is their fault mother died.

“It’s none of your business how I treat her.” Regis growled as he moved close to the bars of the cell, eyes narrowed as a dangerous flicker of anger passed by. “Is she your property? I think not. Typical royal, claiming everything as if it’s theirs.” An old wrinkled hand took hold of the bar clenching it as if to steady his anger. He couldn’t hurt the Prince, killing him now would only ruin everything but he was willing to jeopardise it whilst he was not in the right frame of mind.

“I have led this rebellion for years, I’ve seen your weak pitiful army, couldn’t even stop a girl or a couple of rebels, could they?” Venom laced his voice as he spat at Caspain treating him like an unwanted animal in his home, which was relatively true to his case. As he took a step forward his foot brushed against the bowl of food and he stopped for a moment looking at it intently. What in the? Taking a moment to pick up the bowl of food in his hand he looked at it, there was nothing fancy about it, but it was his food. Their food for the house, which was hard to get a hold of, especially as he had not worked for weeks on end and with his daughter executing their plan, he had no income.

“What a waste, food on a dead man.” Although he seemed to be calmer than before it was the type that was scary, his anger had turned into a whole new level and although currently calm he knew he was close to snapping. “Seems like you’re a little cocky, nothing to be cocky about. You seem to forget your place here. Let me remind you.” Taking out a key from his pocket he unlocked the cell taking a step inside, the bowl of rice still in his hands. The other hand reached into his pocket pulling out a pocketknife and he pointed it towards Cas before throwing the bowl of rice at him. “Try anything and those three days will turn into one.”

Cas held Regis’s gaze stubbornly when the rebel leader said his relationship with his daughter was none of his business. Maybe it wasn’t, but he wasn’t just going to sit idly by and watch him abuse her so heartlessly. He would have done the same for anyone in her situation. The way Regis spoke and behaved around her wasn’t right. Even if she was part of the rebellion, he couldn’t bring himself to pretend like he hadn’t been appalled by the way the two had interacted. He hoped that when the soldiers found him, the older man would be in the building, so they could arrest him for his crimes, and he couldn’t hit her anymore.

“I don’t see her that way at all,” he defended himself when Regis accused him of claiming Iris as his property. “And honestly, it seems to me like you do. You boss her around and hit her like she’s just a tool for you to use. What kind of father would do that to his own daughter? Do you even care about her?” He knew he was getting heated, but he couldn’t help himself. The rebel leader’s actions were sickening. As long as he was behind bars, where the angry man couldn’t get to him, he wasn’t afraid to say so either. Somebody had to do it, and even if Regis didn’t listen to him because he was a royal, he was going to try anyway.

When Iris’s father went on about the military, Cas didn’t say anything. He could have explained that the soldiers were trained to defend against large armies, not individual assassins, or that the military was a different beast when it was united under a common goal rather than casually guarding the capital. However, something told him that saying anything more about Aspiria’s armed forces was a bad idea. There was no telling what Regis would do with that kind of information nor what lengths he would go to uncover more if he revealed he knew useful intel that the rebellion could take advantage of. So, deciding he didn’t want to endure any torture before he was rescued, he kept his mouth shut on the subject.

In the next moment, Regis moved on to a different topic on his own, but the sudden change was far from relieving to Caspian. The prince tensed as the rebel leader’s voice grew dangerously quiet, holding his breath with instinctive apprehension. He could read the atmosphere well enough to know he wasn’t off the hook yet, but he hadn’t expected the older man to pull out a key. As Regis approached his cell and unlocked the door, Cas pressed his back against the wall, heart knocking against his ribs. He’d thought the rebels wouldn’t touch him until they decided to kill him, but now that he was trapped in a small space with a violent man leaning over him with a blade, he realized too late that he’d thought wrong.

With nowhere to go, he hurriedly turned his face to the side as the rice bowl flew at him. The dish made contact with his head, and he gasped. His vision swam from the blow, but he was still coherent enough to understand what Regis had just said. Three days. He had just three days until the Scourge killed him. It wasn’t very much time.

In spite of himself, he could feel his legs tremble as cold dread washed over him. The possibility that this dark room was the last place he would ever see was suddenly very real. He wouldn’t see his home or his father ever again. He wouldn’t have a chance to make up for this mistake. Stop it, stop it, he bit down on his lip, trying to stop the despair from taking over. It wasn’t over yet. His odds may have been grim, but he still had three days to do everything in his power to get away. The first step was making sure he physically well enough to run.

Putting his safety before his pride, Cas slumped against the wall with his face still turned away from Regis. He wanted the rebel leader to think his spirit was breaking, so he hopefully wouldn’t be as inclined to keep throwing things at him or use the knife in his hand. If no one else touched him while he stayed in the Scourge’s custody, he still had a chance to escape.

Do I even care about her? How dare this monarch question my feelings. Of course, I care about her. This Prince knows nothing. Nothing. His mind was ticking away as he leaned over Cas dangerously calm, a part of him wanted to kill the Prince then and there, another part wanted to rough him up, but then would he think that he could get to him? No, I won’t give him the satisfaction.

Twirling the pocketknife in his fingers as he calculated his next move he watched as the Prince slump against the wall broken, perhaps he was winning? A triumphant smirk crossed his face at the idea he had broken the Prince already, this was his first visit to the Prince and already he was cowering in the corner of his cell. “Know your place here Prince, the others may not be able to hurt you, but I will.” Keeping his voice cold and calculated, the smell of alcohol becoming apparent in the small cell before he turned on his heel and exited the small space.

Not taking any chances he locked the cell looking at the Prince “Pathetic, look at you cowering away. Your father would not be seen like this illness or not. He is a monarch to be feared.” Clearing his throat, he stood tall and proud like a leader would, the anger had started to simmer down, and he didn’t feel like slaughtering the Prince in his cell. Not yet anyway. “Your father would not let his heart cloud his judgement, you haven’t had to make any tough decisions in your life, and it shows. What a weak Prince, a poor excuse for the heir of the country. Be thankful I’m ending your life.”

It seemed like Regis was done with his words, done with scaring the Prince as after his last words he left the basement letting the door slam shut behind him as if to remind him that he would still hurt him if needed. Rubbing his head as he felt a headache coming on he trudged his way through the kitchen noting the bowl of food on the side for him, a pang of guilt hit him at how he had treated his daughter because he knew it was not her fault although he had taken it out on her. Maybe I should apologise? No. I was not in the wrong, she could ruin all our plans. The kind heart of hers is what the people love here, just like her mother but it’s also a huge weakness.

Sighing heavily as he took the bowl of food and headed to his room, he would eat it and get some sleep. It had been quite a stressful day already and he had all these plans to arrange, he had to keep the location of the Prince top secret just in case anyone had broken into the rebels. If anyone found out the military would be on them within seconds so he had to keep his plans a secret, all they could know was that they would kill the Prince in the town square in three days. After taking a few bites of food he slumped down on the bed to rest for the night, no further thought of his daughter or the Prince in his home.

Cas knew Regis was just trying to egg him on, but it was still difficult for him to keep up his act when everything the rebel said struck close to home. He knew he wasn’t as strong of a leader as his father and probably never would be. However, he had to remind himself that appearances weren’t important right now. When the founder of the Scourge was standing in his cell with a knife and whiskey breath, behaving as proudly as Atlas would just get him hurt. The pounding in his head and the feeling of warm liquid trickling down his cheek were proof enough that Regis wasn’t a man who tolerated having his patience tested. Even if the rebel thought he was a coward, he had to pretend like he’d given up so he could escape.

To his relief, the charade worked, and Regis finally left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Caspian slid down the wall with a long exhale and lifted his hands to his head to inspect the damage. Where the bowl had struck, there was a bump forming, and he curled his lip painfully as it stung in response to his touch. Unlike the injury on the back of his skull though, he didn’t feel any blood. There would probably just be a nasty bruise in a few hours. The cut on his cheek was similarly harmless. At the worst, it might leave a faint, thin scar, but as long as he was still mobile enough to run, he could worry about disinfecting the small gash later.

He glanced at the door one more time to make sure Regis was gone before his gaze landed on the glass of water outside his cell. Luckily for him, it was still untouched. He carefully and quietly rose to his feet to crouch down beside the bars. Having lost one chance to have a drink earlier, he wasn’t going to pass up the beverage a second time. He was already tired and achy from dehydration, and he didn’t want to find out how much worse he would feel if he went another few hours without wetting his tongue.

The process of getting the container into his cell was tedious. Since both of his hands were still bound, he had to get creative about shuffling it around until he was able to squeeze it through the gap. Once he had, he lifted the rim to his lips and downed the water in a few large gulps. It tasted a little like silt, but he was too thirsty to care that it hadn’t been purified. He just wished there was more of it, because the meager amount in the cup hadn’t been nearly enough to get rid of the dryness in his mouth for more than a few minutes.

At least I won’t die of dehydration, he thought with a sigh, turning his attention to the bars of his cell. Now that he’d quenched his thirst at least partially, he needed to focus on figuring out how to get away before Regis sent anyone else to keep watch. Unsure how much time he had, he stood up against and began investigating the small space, mostly by touch. He ran his hands over the metal bars, feeling for anything that might be a potential weak spot. None of them seemed to be loose though, so he moved on to scanning the ground and the walls for anything useful. With only three days before his scheduled death, he couldn’t rely on the soldiers to find him first. As long as he still had enough strength left to stand on his feet, he was determined to find a way out on his own.

The night had passed by quite uneventful; Regis had slept off the alcohol he had consumed whilst his daughter had not left her room yet. It was the morning and for once Regis was awake, his temper had simmered down but he had not forgotten the events of the night before. Sighing to himself as he wrote a note for his daughter leaving it in the kitchen, he would be gone for today as he had a lot to prepare. Usually he would drag her along however today he felt he should give her space, plus if he had marker her face from the hit last night everyone would talk and he was so close to achieving his ultimate goal.

Looking up the stairs towards her room he sighed before leaving the house, Ethan was waiting in the beaten-up car with his father waiting for him. Today they were making plans on how to kill the Prince, what time they would settle on as well as the means of killing him. Some had opted for poison; some wanted a hanging whereas others wanted something far more brutal. Getting into the car he took one last look at his house before they drove off in the car, a part of him still felt guilty but he shook the thoughts away.

Sighing to herself as she heard her father leave, she felt a bit of relief, she didn’t want to face him just yet. At first, she had wanted to tie her hair up but when looking at her reflection in the mirror she cringed seeing the discolouration on her cheek. Touching her cheek with fingers she gasped feeling a twinge of pain, she knew it had been quite the painful hit however she hadn’t expected it to bruise. Shaking her head, she ruffled her hair ensuring it could cover her face as she headed downstairs happy in knowing no one was around well except her and Cas.

She hadn’t taken much care in her appearance today, a simple old worn blue jumper with the same pair of jeans as yesterday. Nothing fancy, it never was but at least it was comfortable. Moving into the kitchen she saw the note on the kitchen side, frowning as she took it in her hands she looked at the writing recognising it was her fathers.

I’m sorry.

That’s it? I’m sorry? Crumpling the note in her hand she tossed it into the bin as she rummaged through the cupboards, even though she had gotten in trouble yesterday she was still going to provide Cas with food and water. I wonder how that wound is? Maybe I should take something down to stop it from getting infected. Grabbing some bread and some fresh water she placed that on the side as she looked for one of the smaller glass bottles, the one that usually contained vodka. Placing the small bottle of vodka in her pocket she reached for one of the rags, it wasn’t immaculate, but it was clean at least so it would be enough to help the wounds.

Keeping her face hidden with her hair as she headed into the basement with a couple of slices of bread and water, the other items in her pockets. Taking a deep breath, she moved inside, this time reaching inside the bar of the cell placing the cup of water and the bread. Placing them outside hadn’t gone so well the last few times so hopefully should anyone come down they couldn’t smash them or get rid of them.

Sometime between the end of his last nap and the time he finished looking around his cell, Caspian had completely lost track of the passage of time. He wasn’t sure if he’d been locked up for a half day or thirty-six hours or somewhere in middle. The perpetual darkness was both disorienting and anxiety-inducing. He couldn’t use his body to clue him in either, because he wasn’t given regular meals, and he slept at odd intervals. The perpetual hunger and thirst just made him more confused, and every time he woke up, he was struck with a brief flash of panic, worrying that he’d slept for too long and had run out the clock. He wished he had a way to tell how many hours he had left until the rebels decided to kill him, because as it was now, he had no idea how much more time he had to come up with a way to escape. It was by far the most stressful situation he’d ever been in.

As the day—or night—dragged on, he laid on his back with his eyes closed, trying to calm his racing heart after he’d woken up from another nap that could have lasted five minutes or five hours. His head ached relentlessly from dehydration, and he was starting to feel weaker from the lack of food even though his stomach had stopped growling a long time ago. In spite of these things, he still forced himself to sit up and feel around the corner of his cell with one hand, where he’d stashed the few things he’d managed to find in his last searches: a tiny, torn piece of paper, a dried piece of gum that had been stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and a screw. He still didn’t know if any of the trash would be helpful to him in escaping, but he held onto it anyway, just in case.

At the very least, he’d found a use for the screw. When he located it, he picked it up and maneuvered it in his hand, so the pointed end was aimed at the rope that bound his wrists. In the hours—or what he thought had been hours—since he’d found it, he’d been using the metal bit to slowly saw away at his bindings. It was slow going, but he was seeing some progress in the form of fraying strands as he worked on it, so he kept trying, hopeful that he could get out of the ties without enough time to spare to come up with a plan to get out.

It was while he was cutting the rope that the door opened, startling him out of focus. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, fumbling to quickly hide the screw in his trouser pocket, so whoever had come by wouldn’t know what he’d been up to. Regis had already threatened to kill him sooner once, and he was pretty sure that trying to escape would earn him a one-way ticket to whatever horrible execution the rebels had come up with for him.

To his relief, it wasn’t Regis who had come to see him, but his daughter, Iris. The prince’s eyes widened at the sight of the dishes in her hands. More food and water. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to sit still while she placed the plate and cup inside his cell. Even though he was desperate for something to drink, he couldn’t just pounce on it like some kind of caged animal. He still had enough self-respect to behave with more dignity than that, so he waited for her to set the containers down before he inched closer to reach for the glass with his still-bound hands.

“Thanks,” he murmured, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it. All pretenses of remaining aloof had fled from his features as he downed the water without restraint. He still hadn’t forgiven her for lying to him and taking him away from the capital, but he could still give gratitude where gratitude was due, he supposed.

Did he say something? Iris could have sworn she heard him whisper something before she had entered the basement but shook her head thinking she was imagining it. She was tired after all, barely able to sleep normally because everything was stressing her out. The fact she had betrayed him to the fact she didn’t understand who she even was anymore, if this had been a plan she was raised for she certainly didn’t like it now.

“Don’t thank me.” Iris sighed as she pulled out a rag and a tiny bottle of clear liquid, “It’s up to you but you can use this to clean that head wound or drink it. Either works.” Placing the tattered rag and the small bottle of vodka beside the plate of bread she took a step back moving to another area of the cell, reaching up she used her fingers feeling around for something in particular. It took a few moments, but she had locked onto a piece of wood. Unhooking it she winced as a beam of bright light lit up the basement, her eyes taking a few minutes to adjust. It wasn’t much but enough so they could see in the room and it wasn’t in complete darkness. Plus, a part of her was sure the darkness had to be driving him insane, she knew it would her if she was in the same situation.

Rubbing her tired eyes as she moved over to the corner where a simple wooden chair was placed sitting down. Usually it was meant for someone to guard him, but Regis had been lax when it came to arranging guards for the Prince, plus he was too paranoid about anyone knowing his home location. I’m going to have to break him out, I can’t let them kill him. Hopefully the military rescue him, but this war. The people here need a voice. Getting lost in her thoughts as she crossed her legs whilst sat on the chair, should I even talk to him? No. He doesn’t want to listen to me anymore.

“Cas…” Looking up over at him opening her mouth to say something but instead she closed it looking away. “Never mind.” Rubbing the back of her head as she looked towards the tiny window of the basement that was now seeping in light. It had been covered by a piece of wood, Regis had wanted to disorient the Prince, make him confused at what time of day it was and how long he had been here. Unless we go now? Before my father returns… although if I open the cell, he will overpower me and make his escape. But… would that be better? There is no way he would trust me to help him back to the Capital.

“Just eat something today, I don’t know when I can get more food.” Glancing down at the slices of bread she had seen the cupboards, barely anything left in them. She had to ensure there was enough food for her father until they had some money to get more groceries in.

As Iris revealed a rag and a bottle of some kind of liquid Cas couldn’t make out in the dark, he stared up at her in surprise. Briefly, he felt a familiar surge of fondness for her, appreciative of the effort, but the emotion was quickly squashed by the reminder that she wasn’t the person he’d thought she was in the capital. She was probably still just trying to trick him into trusting her again, and he wasn’t going to fall for that again. He had to remember that he had no friends in this place. The only one he could truly rely on was himself until he managed to get back to the capital or the soldiers found him first.

Regardless, he wasn’t going to pass up medicine if she was offering it. Once she’d set the bottle down, he picked it up and opened the top, bringing it to his nose to sniff the contents before he touched the liquid to any part of his body. To his further bemusement, it smelled like vodka. Now I know why she said I could drink it, he mused, setting it down again to get the rag. As tempting as the offer was to drink away his problems right now, he wasn’t going to do it. For one thing, he was so severely dehydrated that he would give himself the mother of all hangovers and waste the little amount of water he had drunk. For another, he needed to keep his wits about him at all times, so he could run. The cons vastly outweighed the pros, so he poured the liquor onto the cloth and pressed it against his headwound, sucking in a breath as the cut stung sharply in response.

In the next moment, he flinched again but for an entirely different reason. After he’d spent so much time in total darkness, the light that filtered through the window that Iris had uncovered was blinding. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before he risked opening them again, his eyelids fluttering while his vision adjusted. As it did, he realized a few different things about his cell. The first of which was that he wasn’t in a prison, but in what appeared to be a makeshift dungeon in someone’s house. The second thing he noticed was that he was probably in a basement, as was evident by the fact that the window was situated at the top of the wall, as if the rest of the room was underground.

Taking in the small space, he turned his head to the side, already analyzing it as fast as he could while he had the chance. The sight gave him hope that he would be able to escape. He’d thought he was in a secure location, probably surrounded by guards or even other prisoners of war. Instead, he was in a pieced-together cell that didn’t look nearly as secure as he’d pictured it in his head. The grainy shapes that he’d seen in the dark were just boxes for storage and an empty chair, any of which he could prop underneath the window to crawl up and out of the room. His heartbeat quickened as he strung the idea together in his mind’s eye.

Iris’s voice grounded him, and he glanced at her, wondering what she had been about to say. “Why do you care if I eat?” he asked. The question was less hostile this time and more genuinely curious instead. “Regis already told me you’re all planning to kill me in three days… or so.” He furrowed his brows, remembering that he didn’t actually know how much time he had left before the rebels would take his life. “It’s not like I’ll starve to death that fast, so why bother giving me even a couple slices of bread?”

Dragging her hands down her face before she rested it in her hands being careful of her cheek as she took the time to think of how to answer, a part of her wondered if he would believe her. Another part told her not to be so stupid, especially with how she had been wearing her heart on her sleeve. Why do I care if he eats? Mulling over the question in her mind, she knew there was a few answers to that question. The main one being she still cared for him, but he didn’t need to hear that. Nor did he want too she was certain of it.

“Because I don’t want you to die.” Whispering out her words as she didn’t look him in the eye, instead she focused on the grubby floor of her basement as if it was the most interesting thing, she had seen all morning. “It accomplishes nothing, it’s unnecessary bloodshed because he is blinded by the idea of gaining power.” Her father had started the rebellion for a good cause, it had been just and all about helping people. Lately it wasn’t starting to feel like that, and she had been stupid to agree with his plans in the first place.

The memories of hers were slowly piecing together and seeing it from a different angle opened her eyes to more. The ideals of the rebellion were slowly changing by her fathers’ hand and she had been a fool not to see it, not until now anyway. “Killing you won’t help these people. It will only guarantee their destruction and it’s my fault. I wanted to help them, not condemn them. No life should be above others.” Sighing as she felt a chill sweep the room, she rubbed her arms looking over at Cas, “You won’t die in three… well two days now. They will rescue you.”

Tucking a strand of her hair behind her cheek she grimaced, “And well… if they don’t I. I won’t let you die.”

Glancing back towards the window she didn’t know what she would do, how to get him out. Perhaps I should spend the whole of tomorrow planning something in case of an emergency. That is if they don’t find him in time. “Hope was just once, the rebellion. It was meant to be a good cause.” Sighing to herself as she couldn’t quite understand where it had started to go wrong in the rebellion. Was it the idea of power? Commanding people?

Getting caught up in her own thoughts as she slumped against the chair, her leg had started to hurt more than usual from the bear trap, but she ignored it. There was nothing they could do here. “Look around Cas, you’re not in some high-end prison, there isn’t armed guards ready to shoot you down. You’ve been locked in the basement of my home because they are desperate. They must be convinced that killing you will solve all their problems when it won’t. Desperate people are the most dangerous because they have nothing to lose.”

Looking up at the door that led into her home from the basement she listened out for any noises above, any sound of life but thankfully it seemed it was still empty. “Would you like some more water?” She had noted his glass was empty, that he had downed the water she had offered moments before and she only felt guilty that he had been put in this situation because of her.

His question seemed to have caught Iris off guard. Cas watched her mull over the inquiry quietly while he nursed the cut on the back of his head, ready for whatever bullshit she was about to throw his way. He didn’t know why he’d even bothered to ask. She was probably just trying to win back his trust and make him believe that the lies the Scourge had been spreading about quality of life outside the capital were true. It had been a waste of breath to press her for details in the first place, so he looked away to continue studying the room he was locked in, resuming work on his plan to escape.

However, when she spoke, he found his eyes wandering back to her face. He was still leery of believing her, but every word sounded genuine. If nothing else, he felt fairly confident that she was being honest when she said that his death would solve nothing. It wasn’t entirely true though. If he died, the Maydestone line would die with him, so the Scourge would have succeeded in destroying the monarchy. The biggest downside for them would be that his father would rain fire on the rebellion before he breathed his last breath. Whether or not they thought that ending his life was the right move depended on how badly they wanted to end the crown.

Apparently, Iris cared more about her fellow rebels than she did about usurping power.

As she said she wouldn’t let him die, he stared at her guardedly, unsure what to think. He knew she was a smooth liar since she had tricked him, but he couldn’t think of any reason why she would tell him something like that. Unless she was trying to get him to relax and trust that he didn’t have to get out on his own, because he could rely on her. The thought made him stiffen slightly with apprehension. Whether she was telling the truth or not, he couldn’t give up on escaping alone until he ran out of time.

So, I’ve been here for at least one whole day, he mused, reflecting on what she had said about two days. That explained why he’d been feeling so dizzy. In twenty-four hours or more, he’d only had one small glass of water to drink. Well, now two, but it still wasn’t enough to replenish the amount he was losing with each passing day. Vaguely, he thought he remembered something about prolonged dehydration causing seizures. He hoped it would take more than just a day for that to happen if it was true.

Concerned by his own train of thought, Cas didn’t even hesitate when Iris asked if he wanted more water. “God yes,” he said and then immediately bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to give away how thirsty he was, but he supposed she could have made the connection on her own. She was the only one who had brought him anything to drink, so she would have already known he was running on empty.

With a sigh, he removed the makeshift compress from his head, resting his arms in his lap to give them a break. “If you don’t want me to die, then why did you bring me here in the first place?” he asked with a frown, still skeptical. “You could have just left me in the woods after you knocked me out.” As he spoke, his gaze wandered back to the bread she’d left for him, and he picked up a slice to take a bite.