Sophie's POV
Time in the dark does not move like it does in the light.
In the palace prison time is measured by the dripping of water. From a cracked ceiling. And the agonizing pulse of pain in my back.
I sat in that cold cell for three days. It was the longest three days of my life.
The floor was cold. It leached the warmth from my body till my bones felt like ice. My stomach had stopped growling. Now it was simply an aching void that made my head light. And my vision swim.
The darkness was not silent. It was filled with the ghosts of my own mind. And the very real torment of Queen Mother Isolde.
She visited me twice a day. Each time the heavy iron door groaned open. She didn't come to talk. She came to break me.
"Tell me the truth girl." She would hiss.
Her shadow stretching long across the cell wall.
"Tell me what poison you slipped into the food. Tell me who paid you. Was it the Northern clans?"
I would shake my head.
My voice a dry rasp.
"I didn't... poison him. I only cooked."
Then would come the strike.
Sometimes it was a lash across my shoulders. Reopening the wounds that had started to scab over in the humid air.
Sometimes it was a bucket of freezing water. Leaving me shivering and gasping on the floor.
She called it "cleansing the lies." But there were no lies to cleanse. I knew nothing. I was a chef who had been traded like a commodity. Now being slaughtered like a scapegoat.
In the long lonely hours between her visits. I thought of Alaric. My heart ached more than my body. Anytime his image surfaced in my mind.
I wondered if he was starving himself. I wondered if the wolf inside him was tearing him apart. He always want to protect me. I could feel his presence through the stone walls. A distant radiating heat.
I had begged him to stay his hand. To not become a murderer for my sake. If he killed Isolde. The kingdom would descend into a civil war that would burn everything we had built.
I had to believe my sacrifice. This waiting. This suffering was holding the peace together.
But as the third night bled into the fourth morning. My resolve was fraying like an old rope.
To keep my sanity. I picked up a small stick. I started drawing on the dusty floor. I didn't draw recipes or trophies. I drew the market. I drew the bronze vine clasp Alaric had pressed into my hand.
I drew the face of my father. His eyes crinkled with a smile. A smile I feared I would never see again. The act of creation was the only thing that kept me from drifting into the abyss of despair.
Suddenly the stillness of the dungeon was shattered. I heard a heavy rhythmic clanking. It wasn't the light hurried footsteps of Isolde.
It was the sound of many guards. Their armor jingling. Their boots striking the stone in unison.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this the end? Had the Prince died?
I squeezed my eyes shut. I prayed. I hoped Alaric wasn't behind this. I hoped he hadn't lost his mind and stormed the depths.
He listens to me. I had to believe he was still honoring my plea for restraint.
The iron bars groaned. A heavy key turned in the lock. The door swung open with a shriek of rusted metal.
I blinked against the sudden glare of multiple torches.
When my vision cleared. I didn't see Alaric. It wasn't Isolde. Standing at the entrance dressed in robes. Of royal gold and white that seemed to glow. It was the Grand Queen Mother.
The matriarch of the Blackwood lineage. The woman who held more power in her pinky finger than most kings held in their entire armies.
I bowed immediately. Or as much as my chains and my weakened state would allow.
My forehead touched the cold stone. The clanking guards stood in a semi-circle behind her. Their faces obscured by the shadows of their helms.
It appeared she had exerted her authority to collect the cell keys from Queen Mother Isolde.
The Grand Queen Mother did not speak at first. She walked into the center of the cell. Her silk skirts packing the dirt.
She looked at the drawings I made on the floor. Then she reached down. She didn't mind the filth. She placed her gloved hand under my chin. She forced me to look her in the eyes. Her gaze was sharp. Ancient. And terrifying.
"You look like a creature of the earth now Sophie." She said.
Her voice surprisingly melodic.
"Not the bright girl who served the Alpha his tea."
"Your Majesty." I whispered.
"Tell me." She said.
Her grip tightening slightly.
"Do you know what is happening to the Young Prince? Do you know why his breath fails and his skin turns the color of a bruised plum?"
I looked into those eyes. I refused to blink despite the tears of pain that threatened to fall.
"I have no idea Your Majesty. I cooked for him with love. I tasted every bite. If there is a something in his blood it did not come from my kitchen."
She stared at me for a long agonizing minute. The guards remained as silent as statues. I felt as though she were reading the very map of my soul.
"I believe you." She said softly.
The breath I had been holding escaped me. It was a shuddering sob. But the relief was short-lived.
She stood up. She reached into the folds of her golden robes. She brought out a small silver dagger. The blade was slender.
She bent down again. Her face inches from mine.
"I will release you from this prison Sophie. I will unlock these chains. I will let you walk freely."
"Thank you." I breathed.
With hope surging through me like a ghost.
"Do not thank me yet." She interrupted.
"I release you on one condition. You have three days. In three days you must find out the truth. The truth of what happened to the Young Prince. You either find the cure. Or you find the culprit."
She took my hand. She pressed the silver dagger into my palm. My fingers curled around it instinctively.
"If you cannot find the truth after those three days." She continued.
Her voice turning as cold as the steel.
"You will use this blade. Do not wait for any of the guards. Do not wait for the judgement of the executioner. If you fail to save the Prince. You must save your own honor by ending your life."
I stared at the dagger. It weight felt like a mountain. She was giving me freedom. But this freedom was tied to a death sentence.
"You are free to go." She said.
She signaled the guards. A gesture that showed they should unshackle my ankles.
I stood up. My legs shaking so violently I nearly fell. I looked at the Grand Queen Mother. Then at the silver blade in my hand.
I walked out of the prison cell. My heart heavy with a terrifying realization.
I was given a second chance. But my life was now on the line. For a mystery I did not understand.
I was walking out of a prison of stone. But into a prison of time.
