The Raven Girl

Chapter 10

Continuing the marathon edit, this one has been faithfully rewritten... In other news, we've reached a nice round-numbered chapter, a milestone. So, congratulations! Get yourself something nice - it's on me! (It really isn't, sorry. I can't afford that.) 

This continued on for days, weeks on end. She couldn't tell how often the guard came, a fresh skin of ale and a crust in hand, but it was little enough to have her splayed out across the wall, head and neck drooped in weakness. When sustenance was provided, she had barely the strength to reach down to pick it up. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. Wasn't it easier just to die now, instead of having her life prolonged just to be displayed to some disbelievers? For all she knew, after they saw her, she could be delivered right back here.

Yngvarr was truly dead now, spirit and all, and she heard no word from him. There were times she could hear the faint whimpers of other victims but they couldn't raise terror in her like they once did. Perhaps those in cells feared the dead because they hadn't been alone; Asta found that the lonely silence demanded your full attention, demanded you listen and watch and think awful thoughts until you found the strength to break it. That was exhausting and so much more frightening than the dead could ever be.

The next time the guard visited, however, it was not with food and drink. It was with rope.

"Tie that around you," he said, throwing down an end for her to cling onto. She looked up at him, face gaunt and hollow from hunger, appearing more an animated skeleton than a living, breathing human. "The King wishes to see you now."

Her eyes were void of expression. She simply gazed onwards with those deep, sunken pupils and did not move to follow his instruction. On her breath was the curse she had been taught, a curse for a false king, and she muttered it as she stared. She muttered it as she had done all that time, alone without even Yngvarr for company.

"What are you dawdling for? He has his whole court present, important lords waiting only to see that the rumours are true. If they are kept waiting any longer, you will anger him and he'll see to it that your death is slow and painful."

Asta did not move. She knew as well as he that King Eirik, second of his name, had no intention to kill her quickly. Her death would be stock full of humiliation, pain, mockery and time and there was no haste could change that. Better she take her time now and let him stand awkwardly among his followers, a crowd who would be impatiently tapping their boots in their disbelief, than give him what he wanted.

The guard rubbed at his face in exasperation, watching her grimy face for any flicker of change. Nothing. Her hair hung down over the shadows on her face, hair that was matted and clumped with dust and dirt and oil, hair that made her look more like a starved, half-crazed animal than the daughter of Magnus Ravner. There something else in her eyes, beneath the expressionless gaze. Perhaps hurt, perhaps fear, perhaps insanity. All he knew was that there was something not right about the girl and that no amount of reason would get her to tie the rope about her skeletal waist. He wagered that she wouldn't even lift a finger if he threatened to lock the trapdoor.

"I curse thee, Eirik Lorven, wretched ruler of this country, to a fate worse than mine. A hundred curses on his name."

"Please," he sighed, interrupting her train of thought, "if you care to let me live, tie the rope around you."

She frowned. This was never the guard's doing and he was innocent. If she could be redeemed for any wrongdoings she had committed in the past then this, saving this man, was surely it. With brittle fingers, she wrapped the rope about her torso and tried to secure a knot whilst her hands trembled uncontrollably. Needless to say, it wasn't very well tied.