Leta's family were presumably killed during a Rebellion, and she was whisked away by one of her father's most trusted guardsmen to a faraway island to live out her days in exile, as ordered by the new King Calas. After King Calas's death, the Lady L...
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You eat?" the guard asked, glowering. He holds out a plate of broth in one thick, calloused hand.
Astrid is starved, but she refuses to let him see her cringe. "A leg of lamb would be pleasant," she said, from the heap of moldy straw in the corner of her cell. "Perhaps some fresh baked bread with butter, and a flagon of mulled wine to wash it down. Or ale, if that's easier. I'm not very particular."
"Broth," he said. "Here." He holds out the plate.
Astrid sighed. The turnkey loomed largely in front of her with arms comprised of iron muscles. The right side of his face is slick with a scar and his left eye is grey, dead, looking as if it belongs to a creature from the sea. She's not sure whether to pity him or be terrified of him.
She reached up for the plate and he jerks it away, grinning. "Here," he said, holding it out beyond Astrid's reach.
The girl rose stiffly to her feet, every joint aching. "Must we play this game with every meal?" She made another grab for the broth.
The guard shambled backward, grinning through his missing teeth. "Right here, little lamb." He held the plate out at arm's length, over the edge where the cell ends and the sky begins. "You don't want food? Here. Take."
Astrid's arms are too short to reach the plate, and she's not about to step that close to the edge. All it would take would be a quick shove, and she would end up a disgusting red splotch on the stones of Havenhall, like so many other prisoners over the years. "I'm not hungry," she decides, retreating to the corner of her cell.
"Enough."
His voice startled her. She was unaware of another person with her. "If the young lady does not want the broth, Samson, I'll take it." The stranger steps forward and slips his arm between the cell bars, holding his hand out for the broth. Samson hesitated but ultimately hands the broth over to the second prisoner.
Samson, seemingly not trusting him, stands watching him with the broth. The man in the cell sighed and takes several spoonfuls of the questionable broth, trying to hide his disgust. Satisfied, Samson finally leaves, but not before drawing his finger across his throat. Astrid, huddled beneath the thin blanket, ignores him.
"You should eat," her companion advised.
"It looks like it will do me more harm than good."
He chuckled. "And smells."
"Thank you." Astrid accepted the broth and, against her better judgment, eats a spoonful. It's terrible, but it's food.
"What's your name?" the stranger asked.
"Astrid. And yours?"
He paused. "Francis."
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"Killing you would send your sister a message."
The Blood King has nothing but contempt in his stare when he takes in the sight of Astrid, hair unwashed and clothes wrinkled. She wants to turn and run, but there is nowhere she can go to escape.
"Nothing?" He sighed. "There was a prophecy, a long time ago," he continued. "They, a seer, said in the mists of great darkness and suffering the product of the cause would rise, and a great light will shine." He gestured at Astrid. "We have been at war... since we were children. Now, I want to end this, I do. And I have the support of the people. Your sister, Leta, she does not have the support of the kingdom nor does she have an army. If this war between our families continues, I will win. Help me end this war, Astrid."
Astrid is quiet for a long, long time, and then: "No. I will not help you. You are not a king," she said, quietly. "You are not a true king," she repeated, louder. "And you will never be one."
Kyan glanced at Echo and nods. He stepped forward and strikes her in the back of the legs with the flat of his sword, causing her to fall down.
He, Kyan, stands straight then, moving to stand directly in front of Astrid as she looks up at him. Beads of sweat drip down her forehead "I really wish— I urge you to reconsider. You love her," he observed. "I understand. Perhaps love is a small madness. It is unendurable alone. And you are alone. And the one person who can relieve us is of course the sole person we cannot go to: the one we love. Instead we must seek out allies, but nothing lasts forever, it's part of the physics of friendships, alliances, whatever it might be we create for a while among ourselves. For now, allow me to be your ally."
"I am not alone." Astrid lifts her chained wrists to her chest, above where her heart should be. "The ones we love never truly leave us. They're always with us." And that little truth is just enough to kindle hope amid tragic circumstances.
Kyan sighed, disappointed. He reached out to touch her cheek; Astrid shrinks away from his touch. "It seems you've exhausted your use to me. For today." He nodded to the guards in the room. "Take her back to her cell."
