Lahera shot up, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. Her fingers flexed in irritation as her piercing gaze settled on the prisoner. His tale was mesmerizing, yet it revealed nothing about the army lurking outside, an army too vast to be mere mercenaries and one that didn’t display any kingdom’s colors. It was a contradiction that she couldn’t decipher. Each ticking moment made the situation graver. I can imagine father’s growing anger. My lack of progress won’t please him.

Narrowing her eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath, she asked, “Prince Gabriel is dead. So why pretend to be him?”

“In a manner of speaking, he ceased to exist.” He smirked, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Though I must say, death seems to agree with me.”

She crossed her arms. Vexed at his ambiguity. “I can tell you’re lying.”

He placed his elbows on his knees, holding her gaze intently. “That I’m Gabriel?” He shook his head. “For a long time, I wished it wasn’t so. But names are like the wind, always whispering in your ear. There are some things you can’t escape.”

Lahera grappled with doubt. Without proof, his words seemed like a mirage. How can I believe anything he says?

He raised a hand, tracing the air as if painting a picture. “With every piece of my story, the puzzle will come together.”

“All I’m certain of is an entire kingdom proclaimed you dead,” Lahera said.

He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “That very kingdom had their reasons to bury my name. I wouldn’t trust everything you hear, Princess.”

She took a step closer, her anger making her voice sharp. “Which is why I consider everything you tell a lie.”

He spread his arms in a half-shrug, his chains clinking softly. “Suspicion doesn’t suit you.”

“We don’t have time. And your story, albeit elaborate, is riddled with holes.”

His lips curled in a wry smile. “Princess, I find myself with a growing hunger.”

She ignored his intention to deflect. “Everyone knows Lord Loftus ignited the rebellion. How is that possible if the King killed him before the coup?”

“That’s the official accounting, but the Accamanian nobles know the truth. Even the Galatians, with their spy masters, learned this. I don’t know what part he played in setting things in motion, but he was not the one that led the attackers. Another was behind the slaughter of my family.”

She knew that her Kingdom of Eldoria didn’t have the best network of information. But surely, we would know something of such importance.

Lahera huffed and moved on to her next question. “Explain to me how a mere boy of twelve defeated a seasoned warrior?” His glossing over the particulars of that particular moment was conspicuous. Though the event was grim and unsettling, he'd always been forthright about such harrowing details before. Something was amiss.

He stretched lazily as he said, “I hesitate to boast. After all, I pride myself on humility. But, to be frank...” He edged forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m just that remarkable. It’s a wonder they didn’t turn on their heels at the mere sight of my brilliance.”

She scowled, her impatience flaring. “Quit the theatrics and answer plainly.”

His smirk grew wider. “But I believe I just did.”

She leaned in. “Answer. Clearly. Or I’ll ensure you remain hungry, Prisoner.” She drew out the last word, hoping his recount would unearth the absurdity of his story.

“Using sustenance as leverage? I have to say I wasn’t expecting it from you, Princess.” He mimicked her prominent pronunciation in his last word. The word was almost said like a curse. Dripping with disappointment. She felt bad about resorting to such measures. But what choice do I have?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Perhaps you’re accustomed to audiences hanging on your every fabricated word. But my patience dwindles. Offer something tangible, or I’ll leave you alone with your schemes. Always remember, you’re shackled.”

He sighed, his lips forming a playful pout. “And here I thought we were just getting ready to know each other.”

She turned away, not willing to play this game anymore. He spoke up hurriedly, “Luck was on my side. The warrior had already taken a blow, a blade lodged in his chest. He was shocked at having just killed the queen. I acted purely on reflex. He never saw me coming. I took him down, even before he could draw a blade against me.” He paused. “I never learned their names. But they haunted my dreams every night. I came to remember their faces more than my own.”

It still sounded unbelievable. How could a child overcome a trained warrior, even with an injury and the element of surprise? He says it was luck, but he’s withholding something. There’s a missing piece. I’m sure of it.

Catching her contemplative stare, he interjected with a sly grin, “Princess, I’m not opposed to talking without end, but usually some sustenance helps me with my memory.”

Gathering herself, Lahera stood, the stiffness of hours spent seated clear in her movement. She headed towards the exit. “I’ll have food brought.”

“My thanks, But I find the food in the dungeon doesn’t agree with me.”

His wry comment halted her mid-knock. She shot back a pointed glance. “Perhaps you should’ve pondered that before landing yourself in a cell.”

The door groaned open to unveil John, a mesh of worry and curiosity on his face. “Princess?”

“A meal from the main kitchen for me,” Lahera directed, a smirk dancing on her lips as she glanced back at the captive. “And the customary fare for our guest here.”

John bowed, suppressing a grin. “Of course, Princess.”

The prisoner, leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall, laughed softly. “Your hospitality is touching, truly.” He pressed a hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture of gratitude, though his eyes teased her.

He stretched out on the cold floor, fingers interlaced behind his head. “I might just close my eyes for a moment.”

She poised to retort, but bit back her words. It was baffling how effortlessly he irritated her. Part of her wanted to end this absurdity and walk out—that would certainly put him in his place. Yet, her kingdom’s safety and the allure of his tale kept her tethered.

As she settled again, her gaze lingered on him. He lay still, so utterly at peace. Were it not for the gentle rhythm of his breath, she might’ve deemed him lifeless. Despite the dire straits, this man found pockets of serenity.

She’d known of Accamania’s past King having four children, but their tales were foreign to her. Gabriel’s heart-wrenching narrative introduced her to a world of grief she’d been unaware of. There was a subtle tremor in his voice, masked by bravado, that spoke of the pain he housed within.

Lost in thought, she pondered his life’s upheavals. The anguish of losing family at a tender age was unimaginable. His raw recount of exacting vengeance on his family’s assailants was jarring. Though she grappled with the brutality of his actions, she grasped the driving force behind them. Yet his savagery unnerved her.

A soft knock snapped her back to reality. John was back, bearing a tray laden with sumptuous food for her and a humble platter for the man.

She spun around, finding the captive upright by the bars, having silently risen.

“I’m much obliged,” he said to John, a genuine note in his voice. “it’s gracious of you to feed a captive.”

John, somewhat unexpectedly, gave the prisoner a nod as he handed over the uninviting piece of bread and exited.

The bread appeared hard and unappetizing, but he bit into it without a word of complaint. For some inexplicable reason, she felt compelled to gloat about her meal. She flashed a playful smirk his way. “Looks like I’ll be eating well. Must be tough being a prisoner, eating stale bread whilst I eat my boar.”

“I’m hurt,” he said with a deadpan face. “What was your feast yesterday, Princess?”

Raising an eyebrow in bemusement, she replied, “I fail to see the relevance.”

“Humor me.”

“Pheasant.”

He nodded appreciatively. “A choice dish. How does today’s fare measure up to that?”

“The company during yesterday’s meal was more to my taste.”

He exaggerated a mock wince. “The fierce Princess strikes again. Though, I gather aside from the delightful company, the meals were on par?”

Her patience thinning, Lahera retorted, “What’s your point?”

He leaned in. “Imagine feasting on that boar after days of nothing but dry bread, or even nothing at all.” He paused for her response, but receiving none, he continued, “Such a meal would be heavenly, wouldn’t it? After hunger, we can enjoy the greatest of meals. The deepest joys come after the deepest of sorrows. That’s why you should never lose hope. You never know what tomorrow can bring. And that’s why I won’t lose the hope that I’ll eat boar soon enough.” He finished with a laugh.

She countered, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes.

Frustration creeping in. She needed to dig deeper, to understand this man’s intentions and ensure her kingdom’s safety.

“You promised proof beyond mere words.”

He held up his hand. “All in due time. I’ll share more of my tale. And before we part today, you’ll see some of the proof you seek.”

“Shorten your recounting and stick to the main points.”

“Would you classify our first meeting as a main point?”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back, setting himself in a comfortable position against the wall. Closer to the bars this time. “And then, I entered the Dark Forest...”