Chained To Him [Editing]

Chapter Twenty-Five

The damp, stinking air of the dungeon conjured a sense of dread within Jayde, but it also brought her hope. For it was where she would find Luther. And despite knowing how much he was suffering here, despite the turmoil of her own situation within the palace, she felt her spirits lift a little as she and Aylah made their way down the winding hallway to Luther's cell.

"You're a popular man, Luther! The whores have returned." She remembered the guard from before, Marten. He seemed to be in good spirits despite the stench of his surroundings. "I hope you brought lot of bandages. He's had quite a few visits this week."

Marten let her slip inside of the cell with her supplies as Aylah led him to see to the other prisoners. She waited until they were out of sight before turning to Luther. He barely lifted his head when she came toward him, and recognition was faint in his eyes. He hardly even looked conscious.

"Luther," she whispered, crouching low to look into his eyes. He seemed to understand who she was suddenly and straightened, groaning as the gashes and burns on his limbs brushed against his clothes. She felt dizzy as she gently removed his shirt, each pained gasp he made causing her to wince. "I'm sorry, I have to clean your wounds." Already they were dirty. Anger burned through her as she inspected his back and arms. They had beat him with hot iron and left the cuts exposed to the squalid environment of the dungeon. If they were trying to let him die, then they would succeed. She had never seen him so close to death. What's more, it looked as though he didn't mind anymore.

"There is still hope." She kept her voice quiet. "Promise me you'll hold onto that." He didn't respond, and so she filled the silence between them. "You have to stay alive, Luther. We have a plan and it's only a matter of time before we act. I...I think we can do it. I have access to Lord Greywood." It was hard to not say his true name.

Luther finally lifted his head. When he opened his mouth, it took a long while for the words to come out, and each syllable sounded tortured. "Does he hurt you?" His eyes could barely focus on her, and she shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words.

When she had finished dressed his wounds, she used more of the clean water she'd brought to wash his face and neck. His breaths came in shallow bursts, and then he would be still for a long while, and each time she was convinced that he would stop breathing altogether. It made her sick at heart, and yet there was nothing she could do, not right now.

"Stay with me, please keep fighting. You have to stay alive and see this through with me." He didn't look at her, and she knew that he had already decided what his fate would be. Aylah and Marten's footsteps echoed louder and louder down the hall, and she began to gather her supplies around her. Suddenly, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, brushing his matted hair away from his forehead. "Luc is alive," she whispered, but it was enough to make Luther's eyes flick to her with sudden clarity. "I've seen him, and he needs our help. You have to keep fighting."

When she walked to the door, he reached out to grip her arm, a wildness in his eyes. His fingers were weak, and she tugged away from him even as he gaped after her.

"I'm all done here," she said quietly as Marten let her out of the dungeon.

"Well I'll be damned, he looks nearly good as new." The guard peered through the bars to where Luther sat straight upright, staring fiercely to where Jayde did her best to avoid his gaze. His eyes seemed to burn into her, but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge him.

"His wounds will become infected," she turned to Marten and did her best to act servile, though the anger she felt at Luther's treatment threatened to lace her tone. "He's going to die if he's not treated better."

"That's how these things work, love." His eyes wandered over her in amusement, and Jayde felt Aylah's hand quietly touch her back in warning.

"He won't be useful to you dead. Perhaps if you moved him—"