Ara's POV
The stone floor leached what little warmth remained in my body, the cold seeping into my bones like poison.
I hadn't touched the food. Couldn't. Not when every breath felt like swallowing glass, not when the metallic taste of blood lingered constantly at the back of my throat.
The plate, Aurelia brought a few hours ago, sat untouched, the congealed stew a mocking reminder of how long I'd been here.
How long had I been here? Hours? Days? I couldn't tell.
Time blurred in the darkness. And Aurelia had been my only visitor. She made sure to bring me meals. Was it also a decree from the prince himself? His prisoner shouldn't die!
It was hard to believe my mate created this arrangement for me. My heart clenched at the thought. The faint scent of mint and sage still lingered
