Switching Places

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All the air left Carissa's chest in a sudden whoosh. She'd missed him more than he could know. Or perhaps he knew all too well. Carissa fumbled with the keys and began trying them in the lock. "I could ask the same of you."

"You mean if I missed you?" Elon asked.

"Mmhmm." The fourth key slid in smoothly. She twisted it and pushed the cell door open.

"Of course I did. Every single moment."

Carissa strode towards him before kneeling on the bench in front of him, her knees placed on either side of his legs. She began working on unlocking the manacles on his wrists.

Elon glanced up at her, a smirk on his lips. "You just couldn't wait to get your hands on me, could you?"

Carissa stifled a laugh. "Just stop flirting long enough for us to escape, alright?"

He winked. "No promises."

A key finally clinked into place, and she unlocked his left manacle. Then she worked on his right one.

He was so close to her she could feel his body emanating warmth. Perhaps it would have been more romantic if not for the smell. The room reeked with a nauseatingly sour stench, so strong it made her eyes water.

Even in the dim light, she could see red wing across his cheeks. "Sorry about that."

"About what?"

"The smell... I'm afraid that's my fault." He winced.

His right manacle unlocked, and she slid off the bench. His fault? Her gaze roamed down him, and she noticed staining on his clothes she hadn't seen before. Carissa gritted her teeth. "I take it they didn't give you the courtesy of a privy?"

"Unfortunately, no." He glanced down at her feet, his shame evident in the slight bending of his shoulders.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her. Not so long ago their positions had been reversed, and she'd been the filthy, unwanted prisoner.

The men around her shifted away, clearing a path from her to the King. Her gaze was too heavy to lift as she suddenly became aware of how he must see her. Her hair dangling in oily strands around her pale countenance. The hollows digging into her cheeks. Her tear tracks slicing through the blood and snot and grunge soiling her face. The shredded dress dangling from her body, displaying bruised expanses of skin.

To her surprise, he knelt by her, the grime-coated floor smearing his pants.

This gave her enough courage to lift her gaze to his chest. "Your majesty."

"Carissa."

Her breath caught, and her courage lost, her gaze dipped to the floor. He knew who she was. And he knew what she'd done—that she was as damaged and dirty within as she was without. Her breaths were coming so fast and hard that the pain slammed into her with the constancy of waves.

"I'm so s–sorry. You deserve so much more than I am and so much better than I have." She hung her head and surrendered to the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Carissa."

Coming from his mouth, her name sounded like a caress. Coaxed by his gentle tone, she glanced up.

He curved one arm around her shoulders and pressed his other hand against her chest, right above her heart, and the tips of his fingers curled over her jutting collarbone. "I only want and need you," he bent close, his breath dusting her face, "my broken, beautiful bride."

And then he'd kissed her with a love far beyond what she'd deserved.

Carissa placed her fingers beneath Elon's chin, lifted his gaze to hers. And then she dropped a kiss onto his lips—firm enough to be passionate, quick enough to be practical. A sweet feeling spread over her chest before she drew away.

Elon's grin returned. "After I bathe, do I get another?"

"As many as you want." She clasped his forearm and helped him stand.

"I'll hold you to that." He grunted as he stood. His legs began to shake, and he leaned more heavily against her.

Carissa staggered beneath his weight before wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. "I'm guessing they didn't allow you to take walks either?" She guided him out of the cell.

"Afraid not." Though he tried to suppress it, she heard his breathing grow ragged while they climbed the stairs.

As he leaned more against her, she felt the press of his ribs into her side. "And they probably forget to feed you too."

Elon laughed faintly. "Something like that."

They reached the top of the landing, where they'd killed the Reaper, and Elon began trembling more violently. He was weaker than she'd ever seen; how long had he been imprisoned? Carissa released Elon, and he slumped to the floor, only a few feet from the dead Reaper.

"Elon?"

He inhaled sharply. "Yes?"

"How much time has passed since we last saw each other?"

"Two weeks."

Carissa ran a hand through her hair. "So long?"

"Given the size of the company, the traveling was likely slow."

Had it been a mistake to take the drug? If she'd remained aware, would she have had an opportunity to free Elon earlier? Or would the Yare wolves have killed everyone?

Elon nudged the dead Reaper. "I take it this was your doing?"

Carissa glanced down at the Reaper. "It was."

"It seems you've proven yourself to be a fine warrior. No doubt you had an excellent teacher."

Carissa suppressed an eye roll. "Naturally."

Elon's next inhale was slower, deeper. It seemed he'd almost caught his breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a scream echoed down the stairway.

A muscle in Elon's jaw ticked as he glanced up the stairs. "The rebellion has begun."

"Yes." Carissa knelt next to the dead Reaper and began searching him. She'd left a dagger in him somewhere, and they might find it useful later. "Is there any way we can help them?"

"We can help a few, but not at the moment. Right now, we have to move."

Carissa brushed over the Reaper's chest wound, slicking her hands in black blood, but she found no dagger. Strange. Perhaps it had fallen out? Or perhaps someone had taken the dagger. Which meant that they'd been here recently.

"Carissa, we need to leave. Someone approaches."

Carissa strode back towards Elon and helped him to his feet. To her surprise, he bore more of his own weight this time. "Who is it?"

Feminine laughter echoed against the stone. "Who do you think, Carissa?" As the laughter faded, Zorelle strode up the stairs towards them, a bloody Scythe in each hand.

***

Author's Note: If you want to read a few paragraphs of the next chapter, I have the link to the sneak peek in my profile! That way you have some TKCB to hold you out until next Wednesday. After all, five days is a long time to wait when you're hanging from a cliff... ;)

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