The first few days had been the worst.
They'd cut her out of the nets the morning after she arrived—finally. Seren had been pathetically grateful. She'd had to sleep in them that first night, every shift driving the knots deeper into new places. After Theron left she'd thrown herself onto the ground, giving her arse cheek some relief from that one particularly vicious knot. At least then she could decide which body parts to torture and which ones to give a reprieve.
Left shoulder or right hip? Spine or tailbone? It had been a game of rotating misery. Her shoulder wasn't right when she moved it—something torn during the fight. The ribs on her left side screamed with every deep breath. Deep bone bruises, maybe cracked ribs, definitely something pulled in that shoulder that made it click and burn whenever she shifted wrong.
So when they'd brought shackles for her ankles and rope for her wrists, she'd actually felt grateful. The chain between her ankles was short—she could shuffle, not stride—but at least she could sit without a knot jabbing her kidney. Or her butt cheek. She'd vowed not to complain. This was luxury by comparison.
After that first night, they'd moved her to a proper cell. In a tower. Still locked. But at least she could move. Could pace the small space. Could sleep on a thin pallet instead of tied to a chair. There was a window—small, high on the wall, barred—but it let in enough light to tell day from night.
They brought her water. Thin soup once a day, maybe. Enough to keep her alive. Not enough to keep her strong.
A week had passed since her capture. Maybe more. Hard to tell.
The guards woke her at random. Sometimes after three hours of sleep. Sometimes two. Sometimes just as she'd finally fallen into deep rest. She never knew when it would happen, which made it impossible to truly relax. Her body was exhausted but her mind wouldn't let her rest—always listening for footsteps, for the scrape of the bolt, for the door opening.
Master Masaru had trained her for combat. For strategy. For reading opponents and controlling her reactions.
He hadn't trained her for this.
Theron had come three times before today. Asked questions. Studied her. She'd given him nothing. Just silence and defiance.
Today was different.
Today, he settled into the chair they'd brought into her cell and steepled his fingers. Seren’s hands were tied behind her back and she was made to sit on the floor.
"I've been thinking," he said conversationally. "About your traveling companions." He watched her carefully. "My people have been reporting sightings near the palace for weeks now. A hyena and a cockatrice, traveling with you and others."
Seren kept her breathing steady. Her face neutral.
"A hyena and a cockatrice.” He paused, then continued. “Hyenas are clan creatures, you see. They hunt with other hyenas. They don't befriend birds." He leaned forward slightly. "And yet my reports were quite consistent. A hyena not eating or stalking, but traveling with a cockatrice. An unusual pairing."
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
He paused. "Just like the hyena who supposedly killed King Cocky. And the King himself. That same remarkable pairing."
His eyes never left her face. "One hyena and one cockatrice traveling together might be extraordinary. Two such pairs existing on Caer Glas at the same time?" He smiled slightly. "That would be impossible."
Seren's hands had been resting loose in her lap. Her sword hand twitched. Just for a moment.
Just long enough.
Theron saw it. His expression didn't change, but satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.
"Ah," he said softly. "There."
Seren cursed internally. Years of training. Master Masaru had drilled her on interrogation resistance. Your body will betray you faster than your mouth. Control every muscle. Every breath. Every flicker.
One tiny slip—
Seren kept her face neutral. Forced her hands to stay still now.
"Interesting," Theron said finally. Soft. Almost to himself.
"I didn't say anything," Seren said. Her voice came out too defensive.
"No," Theron agreed. "You didn't." He stood, adjusting his jacket. "You didn't have to."
He paused at the threshold. "I'll inform His Majesty. Perhaps he'll want to ask you more questions personally. Or perhaps..." He glanced back. "Perhaps he'll want to interrogate your traveling companions instead. We'll see. They shouldn’t be too difficult to find now that their protector is in custody."
The door closed. Locked.
Seren sat in her cell, staring at her treacherous hands.
She hadn't said anything.
But Theron had gotten exactly what he needed anyway.
Oh gods.
She pressed her hands, still tied together, against her face. The swollen fingers protested.
Cocky was out there somewhere. Hiding. Safe, she hoped. And now Jorvan would know to look for him. Would know the hyena's attack had been a ruse. Would tighten the search.
Because she'd twitched.
One. Tiny. Twitch.
Seren stood. Paced the small cell. Four steps to the wall. Turn. Four steps back.
Her stomach cramped with hunger. When had they last brought soup? Yesterday? The day before? Time blurred together. The thin light from the high window gave her day and night, but the days themselves bled into each other.
And the sleep—or lack of it. Every time she finally drifted off, footsteps in the corridor. The bolt scraping. A guard checking on her. Or just standing there, making sure she knew she was being watched. Then gone again. Leaving her lying awake, heart pounding, listening for the next interruption.
She'd barely had a decent sleep since they'd brought her here.
At least she'd bought her friends time. A week of Theron's questions and she'd given him nothing useful. Nothing about where they were hiding. Nothing about their plans.
Until now.
Seren sat back down on the thin pallet. Forced herself to take slow breaths.
No more mistakes. No more twitching. No more giving anything away.
She could do this. She was trained. She was strong.
She just needed to be more careful.
Control every muscle. Every breath. Every flicker.
Tomorrow, Theron would be back with more questions.
And she wouldn't slip again.
She couldn't.

