The Fifth Kingdom by Lisa M. James

Author:Lisa M. James
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781650160542
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2020-02-15T15:29:55.863030+00:00

Chapter 4

Matthew leaned his head back against the cold stone wall of his cell. He took a breath in slowly and winced at the pain. His ribs were bruised if not broken and his hands were bound. The effort he expelled sitting up drained him.

Why did Nycilla bring me here?

Her features were difficult to make out, except for her green eyes. They looked at him with remorse. Forgive me, she had said. That was all he remembered before he woke up on the shores of the South Kingdom. Knights surrounded him and he was first brought to the castle infirmary. Within moments, he was pulled out of the infirmary bed, beaten, and imprisoned. How long ago that was, he could not remember. He was going in and out of consciousness and no light shined into the cell. He did not know whether it was morning or night.

Several moments of the day, they would bring him out and two guards would inflict new forms of torture upon him. They mostly used their fists and feet to knock him senseless, but one day they had beaten him with chains. On another, they had bound him upright and used a shard whip to send him out of consciousness. Yet, he knew someone was tending to his wounds every night for as he woke, most of the blood was gone and his wounds cleaned. For how many more days he could go on this way, he did not know.

Sudden footsteps nearing him caused him to close his eyes tightly and bow his head to feign sleep. He did not wish for another beating when he was ill-equipped to defend himself. He heard the cell door creak open and footsteps enter. He stifled a cry of pain as a sharp kick was planted on his side.

“Is he breathing?” a guard said. Matthew felt the warm breath near his face and sensed a man kneeling in front of him. As the guard’s arm went to his pulse, Matthew threw his head forward against the man’s head. A string of curses flew from the guard’s mouth as the other guard started to pummel Matthew to the floor.

“Stop it!” a woman’s voice came to them. “Did the King not command you to keep him alive?”

“He attacked us, my lady.”

“Is that a story you wish to tell the King? An unarmed, bound prisoner bested you? Leave him. Now.” Matthew heard the men leave and lock the cell behind them. With one lurch, he pushed his body up and leaned against the cold bars of the prison cell, to face the woman who was his defender.

“Princess Carrista?” He met the light brown eyes of the beautiful dark-skinned woman who knelt by his cell. Her thick black hair was braided down one side of her face and touched the floor. She extended her hand out with a wet cloth and wiped the blood and sweat from his face. The cold stung and he flinched at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She retracted the cloth which turned red in color from his blood.

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