Chapter 28: Patterns And Stone Walls

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Basia sat on the wide ledge of the barred window that overlooked the desolate Land of Ash. The rough stone was cold beneath her, seeping into her even through the layers of her purple satin dress. Though the land was nearly always drenched in shades of dull gray which made it difficult to determine the time of day, she knew by her measurements that it was evening, and soon the land would be completely dark.

She picked at her fingernails anxiously. She knew that soon, he would return and force her to sit with him at the iron desk in the center of the prison cell. He would give her food and drink and she would eat while he sat there with his face of stone, staring back at her. But even if he didn't return that evening, she would force herself to sit alone at the iron desk and stare into the empty space across from her.

She adjusted her sleeves, pulling them down so that the hem sat perfectly on her shoulders. She tried not to flinch as the heavy iron door was pushed open. Turning her gaze away from the window and to the door, she watched as he entered the room and pulled out his chair to sit in masculine grace. He set a plate of chicken and greens and an aluminum mug of water down and slid it to her assigned side of the table. "Eat." He instructed her with that same firm tone that he always used.

Everyday it was the same. He visited her twice– as she knew he was instructed to do– and everyday he greeted her with the same word. Filling her usual role, she stood slowly and moved to occupy the seat across from him. She ate leisurely in silence and ignored his unwavering stare as she finished off every bite of her food. Then she moved to her drink and quenched her thirst with the entire mug. Setting it down just so, she looked up at him finally.

"Valiana grows impatient." He informed her in his deep, rich voice. His crimson eyes did not falter as he stared back at her, his intense features stone.

She only shrugged and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the mug to tilt it towards her. When her eyes grazed the inside of the mug and she discovered that it was empty, she tilted it upright on the table once more.

"I know that you were cared for." He stated simply. "I only wonder whether your loved ones are sagacious enough to determine your whereabouts."

She crossed her arms and raised her chin, allowing her face to shade with an air of pretentiousness. "If that is all for now, will you excuse me so that I may return to my pointless staring?"

His dark features did not shift. They remained locked into place leaving her no way of deciphering his thoughts. She removed a hand from its twist with the other and tilted her empty mug up to check its contents. Finding it empty once more, she lowered it. She looked up to discover his eyes had followed her movements. "A pity you choose to be so still-tongued. One would think you'd have more fear for the shadow demons."

She pulled her sleeves down so that the hems sat just right on her shoulders and bit her lip in an attempt to hide her true terror for the creatures. Mastering herself, she spoke softly, "To be fearful of those things would mean to be fearful of their master, which I am not." She spat the last word out at him, a sign that she would hold up well against him.

He brought his hands together and rested them on the table, his fingers intertwined. "Perhaps not, though I have given you no reason to be." He remarked in his deep level tone.

She moved her eyes away from his in fear that he would sense her uncertainty. Then she brought her hand towards the mug for a third time, but he placed a hand over it swiftly and pulled it toward him. "It is empty." He stated.

She knew it was, but her hands began to shake at the feeling of not being able to be sure of it herself. Wanting desperately to pull it back from him, she slid her hands down into her lap and under the table to hide their shaking. He tipped the cup upside down and placed it on the table with a dull thud.

"There is nothing more for me to say." Was all she commented, raising her chin high once more, her spine straight as an arrow.

"Very well." He said. He grabbed the empty plate and cup and stood gracefully, taking his exit gingerly. As he pulled open the door to leave, he dismissed himself, "Until tomorrow." Then he vanished behind the iron door.

She let loose a pent up breath and released her posture to slouch. She wanted desperately to move to her bed– a splintered plank of wood held to the wall by two chains with a hay-filled mattress atop it– but she would not allow herself to move for at least five more minutes. She counted the seconds in threes as they passed. As the fifth minute came and went, she sighed and moved to her bed.

She'd been trapped inside these cold stone walls for a fortnight by now. She'd calculated the measure of her cell window to the ground over a hundred times by this point. She'd noted every sound beyond the door and tracked every creature that wandered outside of her cell. She knew the exact length of the keyhole which could only be breached by a uniquely designed key in which no normal key was fashioned, turned half a rotation counter clockwise, and pulled free. Furthermore, she suspected a system of secret passageways hidden throughout the tower in which she was being held based on the odd distances between the shadow demons' occasional hisses to one another. She familiarized herself with every corner of the desolate place she had been taken to, and all of this had been decoded within the first two days of her arrival. She knew exactly how she must escape, even possessed the very tools to do it. All she needed now was the courage to act. 

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