The Sentinel by Dana Mitchell

Author:Dana Mitchell [Mitchell, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

A month went past. Charys regained her full strength, watching the moon for its cycle. Watched, too, for ways she could escape. She did not try, hoping to lull them all into a sense of complacency. And the Captain—she refused to think of him as Ciarán—watched her like a hawk.

Eventually, every so often she was allowed to walk the grounds by herself. It was during one of her walks, she expertly applied enough nightshade to the wine to ensure those who drank would sleep more deeply and longer than normal.

Waiting until she could hear the guards posted at her door snoring, she crept out of bed. The Captain was a dark lump against the feeble light of the fire, his breathing deep and regular.

She crept from the room and tip-toed past the guards. All was silent in the deep dark of the night and she made her way to the side of the castle, to a door fitted into the stone wall, so cleverly hidden, it had taken her a while to figure out where to return to it, so skilfully it was masked.

As her hand passed over the stonework, feeling in the dark for the precise stone to push, the Captain’s deep voice said, ‘More to the left.’

Charys shrieked, automatically stumbling away from his voice. Falling against the wall, her hand crept to her throat as she struggled to breathe with cramped lungs.

He said nothing else, just stood there, a dark shadow of judgement.

‘You were asleep,’ she accused.

‘My magic protects me from poison. Nightshade in particular.’ His voice was conversational. ‘My men, on the other hand, they are not immune. I hope you haven’t killed them?’

Aghast, she drew in a breath. ‘I cannot…I can’t kill…’

‘I thought so. So, they will have a good sleep and feel a little bit worse for wear in the morning. Or the afternoon, depending.’

She refused to feel guilty. ‘I want to leave.’

‘You are not quite well enough yet,’ he said, after a short silence.

Grinding her teeth, she began the walk back to the room. After that night, she grew increasingly worried that his purpose in not letting her go was stronger than her purpose to leave. Other than those touches that he insisted on, he treated with her utmost care and kindness. He did not attempt to kiss her again. And every day he asked for her name.

Every day she refused.

Every day she grew more used to him, secretly loved their verbal sparring and hearing him laugh. Making him laugh with her tart tongue. So much so that she relaxed her guard as they slept in the same huge bed, for he did not touch her. Ever.

He was always up before her, no matter what time she woke. He was with her always, walking around the fortress castle, avoiding the garden which was now off limits.

She was indeed in a prison. A luxurious prison yet still caged, like a bird.

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