Lost in Averell by Tara Grayce

Author:Tara Grayce [Grayce, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sword & Cross Publishing
Published: 2019-11-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

We Find a Dragon Princess

“Ami!”

“Amy!”

My name...being called in two different languages.

I blink my eyes open, but for a moment, I’m not sure if I’m still unconscious, just dreaming that I opened my eyes. Everything is dark. Stone is beneath me, aching against my head and warming beneath my body.

I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them again. This time, I can just make out a hint of light coming from somewhere above my head. Well, behind my head because I’m lying down.

With a groan, I force myself to sit up. I’m stiff, as if I’ve been lying on this stone for too long. I’m pretty sure the back of my head is bruised just from sitting there. Places all down my arms and legs throb.

The farffle bites. Passing out.

But how had I gotten here? Where is here, exactly?

“Ami!” Trygg’s voice calls again. This time, there’s a hint of panic coating his voice. I’m not sure if the panic is for me or because he’s locked in a tiny, dark space like I am. Unicorns don’t do well in tiny dark holes.

Iron rattles over stone, like chain against a stone floor.

“Amy!” Brett’s shout seems closer.

“Stop it, you two. Do you want them to come back and sedate you?” A girl’s voice this time, one I don’t recognize. Her tone holds a menace, as if she intends to march over and silence Trygg and Brett herself if they don’t stop yelling.

“Trygg, I’m here. Brett, I’m fine.” I force myself to stand. Something drags against my leg, rattling. I look down. A manacle clamps around my left ankle, a length of chain bolting it to the wall.

What in Averell is going on here? It’s like I’m locked in a dungeon. But that doesn’t make sense. I’m a princess. No one in Averell would dare lock me in a dungeon, and I’m not just saying that out of a snobby attitude. Dad has worked really hard to establish good relations with the other races in Averell. It isn’t so much that no one would dare lock me up, but more like no one has any reason to.

I’m in a small cell. Its ceiling is maybe seven feet tall, which sounds like a lot until you’re in a tight, dark space. The rest of it is about six by six feet, and I’m glad I’m only about five foot five inches tall. There isn’t a cot or a pallet or even a pile of hay to sleep on. Just bare stone and a six inch by six inch grate in the corner that must be what passes as the bathroom in this dungeon.

The door is several inches thick, made of wood reinforced with strips of iron. A small, barred window is set at what is probably the normal head height for a full grown man. When I peer out, my nose is level with the sill.

Outside my cell there is an open space surrounded by more cell doors identical to mine with a set of stairs leading upward disappearing into more darkness.

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