Insurrection [On Hold]

25 Jailed

We pass through the border of Quill considerably easily. Barrow tells the guards along the pass between the two countries he's bringing me as a prisoner. The diplomat has already been through here which makes the process easier. Two of the soldiers ride in front of us to make sure we don't cause trouble.

The ride to the capital should take less than two hours. We've been driving for six so far today, and the sun has already set.

"The diplomat will meet us at the castle?" I ask Barrow.

"No, at the Capital Prison. They don't typically bring scum into the palace."

I resist the urge to elbow him.

His voice gets lower, "Though I think they're all scum."

I train my eyes forward.

"So those lashes, the king did that?" Why does he care?

I roll my eyes. "Well he stood there and ordered someone to. I almost lost my eyesight."

"And the other side of your face?"

I look down at my shoulder. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious."

"The King dragged me up a concrete wall."

"The punishment was obviously deserved."

I roll my shoulders back, looking forward. "That's up for debate. You can try telling me I'm weak, but I know I'm not. If I was I wouldn't be here."

******

The fence wrapping around the city is an impressive sight. Four stories tall and covered in a copper like metal. Caleela, Quill. A beautiful capital--surrounded by mountains. I haven't laid eyes on this city in two years. The last time I was here, it was to attend the dinner that started the war. My father and Every's, the youngest of three princes of Quill, found themselves in a heated debate that night. Lumiere has been fighting a war with them since.

The gates open, revealing the beautiful swirling stone architecture covered in shadows. This city is my fate. I could very well die here.

The Capital Prison is a huge building in the shape of a cube. I dismount first followed by Barrow who has a handcuff activator.

"Hold out your hands."

I obey, and he sticks the black cube on the sides of both of my wrist. The blue ring wraps around them in an infinity band. The soldiers walk through a door, letting it slam shut on us. Barrow opens it, and I force myself inside before him.

Inside I spot the diplomat my father sent, dressed in tan and maroon garments signifying his county of origin. His gray hair is crumpled, and his eyes are puffy. He rises.

I step out of the shadow of the doorway and his jaw falls.

"What happened to her?"

Barrow steps next to me. "His punishment."

"This is wrong. She didn't deserve that." He doesn't gesture to my face but he might as well have thrown his arm out to the side, pointing at it while holding a sign.

Barrow leans forward. "Do not speak against him like this."

"And who are you but a lowly soldier?"

I glance nervously across the room and spot the two Quillunite soldiers watching us intently. If these two men aren't silent, they'll give away why I'm truly here.

"I'm here on his orders. My job is to defend him." Barrow reaches inside his bag and pulls out a tablet. Thrusting it toward the diplomat, he simply says, "Her crimes."

The diplomat powers it on, his eyes furrowing as he reads it. "This is disgraceful. I can't say this."

"Yes, it's very disgraceful. That's why she's here. She needs to be locked up."

With an apologetic look the diplomat strides through the largest set of doors in the room. I remain standing, never taking my eyes off them.

I don't know how long passes until a soldier walks out of them. His eyes hold no compassion as he grabs my arm and drags me through a smaller iron door, away from Barrow. I can't see anything but pitch blackness. The soldier drags me through the dark, familiar with the path. I hear a door open and light floods in, blinding me. The room is small. Piled in the corner are ten crates.

He shoves me forward. I catch myself in time not to fall. Locking the door first, he faces me.

A thought slams against me. I don't know my name. At least my adoptive name for while I'm in prison. I could blow this whole thing right here.

His eyes rake over me, stopping on my face. "Is that leprosy?"

"No. I was dragged across concrete."

"Protocol dictates that I check you for weapons."

My heart sinks and apprehension sets in.

He approaches me before standing behind me. He places his hands on my waist. I tense. "Don't think I'll receive any pleasure in this," he says. "You look like a disgusting piece of feculence."

I try not to let him see me wince. Growing up everyone always told me how lovely I was except for my parents. Maybe I took it for granted. Maybe I didn't believe them.

I hold my breath in increments as his hands travel over my body. At least this is less awkward than when I had to check Nate for weapons. I shiver.

The soldier's hands freeze momentarily before continuing. His hands pause at my hips where the vial is hidden. I close my eyes as he raises my tunic and reaches for the vial. He withdraws it and holds it in front of my face. "What is this?"

"Medicine for my wounds."

He pockets it. "You certainly are an ugly wench."

"You certainly are a scrawny boy."

He backhands me and I stumble.

"Talk like that will not be tolerated here. Maybe in Lumiere's prisons but not here."

I inhale and exhale. His hand landed against the side of my face that's scraped up from the wall.

I straighten my back, holding my head high. "You think that hurt? I've had worse. Did you miss the wound on my neck?"

"I could give you worse. We have every right to kill you. But we don't because you're only a female."

I bristle. Arguing is risky, considering it will get me killed. "Am I supposed to thank you?"

"If you did I'd know I wasn't doing my job." He stands straighter. "Any form of rebellion and you'll be punished. Just because we aren't killing you doesn't mean we won't get you close to death."

I swallow. Grabbing my arm, he drags me toward the door behind me. Light floods the room we step into, revealing forty to seventy cells, filled with five or more prisoners of both genders. Each cell is a patchwork of light; the same kind that is around my wrists. He shoves me down the stairs, and I try my best to keep my balance.

At the bottom he walks up to a man. I take in the room that will be my shelter for the next two months.

The soldier gives me a shake. "She needs a cell." 

The new man nods, guiding us forward. I look into the cells, seeing how ragged the prisoners look. My heart goes out to their state of living.

We stop in front of one that is only filled with woman. Most appear much older except for one who's probably a little older than me. The new soldier types in a code and three bands of light disappears.

The original soldiers unlocks my handcuffs, pushes me inside, and with a derogatory word intended for me, orders the door sealed. Both men leave. I sink to the floor holding my head in my hands.

Two months has started.