Felicia Gregor made lunch, and I watched him. He made a simple meal of bread, cheese, and some apples. His concern for me was evident, and it was endearing. He set the food before me, and we ate in silence for a while. He seemed lost in thought, and a felt strange sort of hum come through my implant from him.  “Are you alright?” I asked him.  His eyes snapped to mine. “I’m worried about Zana. She is so full of rage.”  “Rage?” I asked, surprised. “She is in pain, anguish even, but rage?” “Yes.” He confirmed without hesitation. “Rage is what I f

  Felicia The men gagged me and bound my hands. They had horses waiting not far from the village. The man who came to install my bed, a large brute of a man, picked me up and set me on the horse. None too gently, I might add.  Riding made me nervous. I had not been on a horse since I was a girl, and that had only happened once when a fellow guardsman to my stepbrother saw me watching them and offered to give me a ride. In that instance, I only had to hold on while the horse was led around at a very sedate pace.  I thought about protesting to the men but thought better of it. If they realized I couldn't ride, then they might make me ride with one of them, and I think I would have preferred to fall off an

Felicia I looked around the room that had been mine so very long ago. As I looked at the details, I could tell it had been fashioned for a young girl, not a grown woman. Like it had been frozen in time, just waiting for my return. But the whole thing didn't make sense. How and when could I have lived here?  I tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. My brain was trying to sift through the details of jumbled memories. They were vague images and feelings mostly. I got the impression that, as pretty as the room was, it had always been a cell.  I sighed heavily and walked over to the slit of a window. It faced a sheer cliff that disappeared into a deep ravine, so deep I couldn't see the bottom, just swirling snow and mist. I would not be escaping that way.  

  Felicia After a night of intermittent sleep, I woke to the maid returning with a breakfast tray.  “Good morning,” I said pleasantly, though my voice sounded a bit gravelly.  Another quick movement of her eyes was all I got in response before she retreated out the door with quick, nervous steps, as though she was afraid any contact with me would communicate some dreaded illness. It was extremely frustrating, and I huffed out an exasperated sigh.  But, my stomach soon grumbled with hunger, aggravated by the scent of nearby food, so I ate my breakfast like a good little prisoner and decided not to let the maid's behavior both

 Felicia  I spent several hours reading the journal that afternoon. It seemed the most productive way to spend my time. The book read as follows:  Entry two They made me sleep again. All I remember is lying down on the table and squinting my eyes at the bright lights. Doctor Smythe told me to count backward from ten, as always. Then I woke up. I was tired, and my head hurt. I think I was asleep for longer than usual this time. And whatever they had done had made mama nervous. When Doctor Smythe let me out of the lab, she ran over and hugged me with tears in her eyes. I hugged her back, but I didn't understand why she was so worried about this trip. While she held me, I listened to her talking with the doctor.  “Well?” Mama a