ICE

155. A Rat

A RAT SCURRIED across the straw-covered floor of Ravenna's cell. Its little claws scratched at the stones, the sound bouncing around her in an endless echo. She twitched and lifted her head, watching the small creature explore her newfound torture chamber. The small movement sent another wave of pain rushing through her. It seared through her, radiating from the center of her chest — where a massive gash stretched from one side of her torso to the other.

The pain soon dulled. It only spurred to life now whenever she moved.

It had been a total of three days since the guards had tossed her into the prison cell. Each day, she had remained motionless, crumpled against the wall opposite from the iron-barred door. Heavy shackles coiled around her wrists, holding her hands captive against the wall behind her. Any attempt to use magic was snuffed out by a spell that had been cast upon the shackles.

So she just listened.

Four Imperial guards patrolled the dungeon in rotating shifts. All four seemed to enjoy hearing themselves talk. Their chatter was never-ending; an incessant conversation with anything and everything around them. There was even a time where she wondered whether one of the guards was actually talking to a wall.

The endless gossip proved useful, however.

In three whole days, she had learned that Vyses had unsurprisingly taken claim to the throne. No one seemed happy about this. He had also disposed of the royal advisers and most of the Imperial guards. There was something that prevented him from creating his own soldiers though. According to one guard, none of the murdered Imperial guards were replaced. She suspected that Vyses was unable to recreate her ice soldiers without access to her magic or the spell she'd used.

The small notion brought her little peace.

A bowl of gray mush was tossed in her direction. It cracked against the stones in front of her, gray mush splattering against her and spreading out across the floor. She stared at it, her nose twitching as a repulsive smell drifted toward her nostrils.

"Eat up," one of the guards told her. His expression was twisted with anger.

She grimaced. The mush seeped into some of the straw that was scattered across the floor. Ravenna listened as the guard walked away, his armored boots clicking against the stones. It was not long before voices floated through the air again.

Closing her eyes, Ravenna leaned her head back, allowing herself to relax against the stones behind her. She focused on the voices, listening carefully for any new information.

A small squeaking sound distracted her. She opened one eye and glanced around her cell. It was a small space — windowless and comprised of ancient stones, decorated with a hefty layer of mold and mildew. It was fairly easy to spot any changes.

The rat had moved closer, its beady dark eyes watching Ravenna cautiously. It seemed to wait for her to move, to lunch forward and defend her meal. When she did not, it scurried over and started to eat, fervently grabbing at the mush and shoving it into its mouth.

Another rat caught her attention. This one remained stationary, standing near the barred door, just watching. Ravenna heaved a sigh. The action created a small movement in her chest, sending a fresh wave of pain searing through her. "You might as well come get your share," she grumbled at the rat.

"I think I will pass," a familiar voice said.

She squinted at the rat near the door. It stood up on its hind legs and a flash of light engulfed it. When the light dimmed, a crouching humanoid figure appeared in the rat's place.

"Caelan," she breathed.

Relief flooded through her. She watched as Caelan reached out, lightly tapping the barred door behind him. A faint white light engulfed each individual iron bar that the door was comprised of. Confusion flooded through her and she frowned at him.

He smiled. "A little privacy is always nice," he remarked. The other rat abandoned its dinner as he moved closer to her. It dove for one of the many cracks that splintered through the stones surrounding them, vanishing from sight.

Caelan waved a glowing hand. The bowl in front of Ravenna straightened upward, the mush collecting itself from the floor and vanishing with a small flash of light. "I will admit, I am slightly surprised that you haven't broken yourself out yet," he remarked. His eyebrow arched upward.

Ravenna shifted her gaze, glaring angrily at the floor. "Are you really that surprised?" she snapped, crossly. "I am wounded. My entire torso looks like a bloodied battlefield. It hurts to breathe."

A frown graced his features. His hands gently reached out, fingertips lightly pulling at the blood-soaked fabric of her dress, which clung to the torn skin of her chest in tatters. "That will be a problem," he said. His hand fell away from her and he met her gaze. "This will take some time to heal. It is too much for a single spell to mend."

She tilted her head back, almost resting against the wall behind her. Her lips tugged back into a small, sad smile. "I've had worse."

His expression darkened. "I know," he murmured. "We need to get you out of here."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" she asked.