Page 35 of Royal Guard

By then, I’d been through every possible emotion. I’d cried, I’d cursed, I’d beaten on the wooden door with my fists. I’d fallen asleep and woken thinking it was all a nightmare, then tried to struggle out of bed and felt only damp rock under my hands.

I didn’t realize the significance of the walls being wet. Not then.

I’d learned every inch of my cell. The ceiling was low enough that I couldn’t stand up. The length was just too short for me to sit with my legs outstretched, but too narrow for me to sit cross-legged. The floor was as rough-hewn as the walls, lumpy and jagged: there was no way to comfortably lie, even curled up. When I slept, it was through pure exhaustion.

When I heard someone coming, I thought I might be hallucinating it. So many times, I’d convinced myself I heard helicopters, or footsteps hurrying to rescue me. But this was real: two sets of boots approaching. Just to hear something other than my own breathing and sobbing was glorious. And then I saw their flashlights under the door: only a faint glimmer but my eyes were straining so hard, it was blinding. The door opened and I staggered forward, convinced I was being rescued.

It was the same two Garmanian soldiers. But at least I was being taken somewhere else. Maybe my father had negotiated for my release. Maybe the war was over—

They shoved me back in.

Something metal clanged on the floor. Something else was tossed into the corner. Then the door shut and locked again. I was so frantic not to be locked in there again, I forgot about the height of the cell and cracked my head against it as I leapt forward to hammer on the door. I screamed that I’d do anything, but their footsteps kept walking away. I didn’t understand. Why would they come all the way down here and just put me back in?

When the precious light and sound had faded away, I crouched down and felt around to see what they’d thrown into my cell. The metal thing was a bucket. There was a plastic bottle of water and four slices of bread.

Realization sank in. This wasn’t a temporary thing. They were intending to keep me there for as long as they needed to. Weeks. Months. Years.

For a few hours, my mind refused to accept it. I couldn’t believe that they’d treat a human being likethis. But they didn’t come back. This was real.

My life turned into darkness, broken only by their visits. They seemed to come every three days, leaving just barely enough food and water for me to survive, emptying the bucket and then locking me up again. I tried to reason with them, to befriend them. I spent all my time alone planning what I was going to say to them. But they never spoke, never looked at me with anything other than contempt.

I had no idea how much time passed. I tried to keep track but it was impossible. I couldn’t make marks on the wall: I couldn’t evensee.Instead, the things that broke the routine began to stand out. The time I rolled over in the night and crushed the water bottle: half of my water ration squirted over the floor and by the time they came back, I was delirious from dehydration. Or the time a nightmare made me kick over the bucket.

I had no idea what was going on in the outside world. Had it been weeks? Months? What if we’d lost the war and my parents were dead and I was going to be there forever?

Then, one day, the soldiers didn’t arrive.

I triple-checked that it had been three days. But I was right, I’d finished off the last of my bread and water the night before.What if...what if they’ve forgotten about me?I’d only ever seen those two soldiers. I knew they’d want to keep my location secret, to make rescue more difficult. How many people even knew I was here?

What if this was it, and I was going to starve to death down here?

The fear was so real, so visceral, that I shut down. I just froze there, on my knees. I’d never felt so utterlyalone. Something broke inside me, at that moment. Some vital connection was severed.

The next day, just one of them showed up, stinking of alcohol. As best as I could figure it, they’d gotten drunk the night before and simply not bothered to check on me. It was chilling: I was completely at the mercy of these two men. What if they got ill, or had an accident? What if Lakovia won the war, took the building and shot them, and no one thought to come down into the ancient cells to check for prisoners?

It went on like this for weeks, the visits growing less and less reliable, the soldiers becoming sullen and unshaved.

And then it rained.

I didn’t know it was raining, of course. I didn’t know that Garmania was experiencing the worst storms for a decade. Or that the ancient prison had been built close to the river, which had burst its banks. I didn’t know about the flood water washing three feet deep over the ground outside.

I only knew that the walls went from damp to wet, and then I could actually feel the water moving under my fingertips, every surface coated, a million tiny waterfalls. I couldn’t see where it was coming in: tiny cracks in the rock above my head, I presumed, because no matter where I pressed my palms, I couldn’t stop it. It started to pool on the floor: the first time I heard my feet splash, I nearly threw up with fear. Then, within minutes, it was creepingovermy feet.

I threw myself against the door. “Help!”I screamed. “HELP!”

But there was only silence and blackness. The soldiers weren’t even due to visit for another two days.Would they realize the danger? Or were they passed out from drink upstairs? Were they evenhere?!For all I knew, they didn’t even stay in the building between visits. They might be twenty miles away, far too far to reach me in time.

The water was up around my knees. I started kicking the door. I know it was futile: I’d tried to break it many times in the first week, before hunger sapped my strength. But there was nothing else to try. I slammed my foot against it again and again but the wood didn’t even bend. And then the water was up around my hips and kicking became impossible. “Help!”I yelled. “Please!”

The water was freezing, making me pant with cold on top of my fear. The ceiling meant I had to bow my head and the water rose horribly fast towards my face. It passed my waist, my breasts...I arched my back and pressed my face to the ceiling, nose and lips scraping against the rock. “Please!Oh God,please!”

The water washed into my ears. It lapped at my chin and brushed my lips. “HELP ME!”

The door opened.

I fell through the doorway, the water rushing over my head and half-drowning me. Hands were on my wrists, pulling me along, and lights were shining in my face. I was hysterical, babbling, begging them not to lock me up in there again. It was only when we got upstairs that I saw the badges on their uniforms and realized they were Lakovian special forces. I was being rescued.

They flew me home. A ceasefire was declared two weeks later and a week after that, the war officially ended. Lakovia had been winning for months. We’d captured one of their command centers and that’swhat had finally given the military my location.