Metal rattled as an iron gate swung open and one of the priests pushed Helena into a darkened hall. Damp air curled around her, sending a shiver down her spine. The musty scent of the stale space had her wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Her tears dried as she prepared herself for what was to come.

Cries came from occupied cells as they passed. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she stumbled. Stiff fingers curled around her arm in a bruising grip, forcing her forward. They pulled the sack from her head and stopped at an empty cell. No special treatment for the princess. She’d be kept in much the same state as anyone else.

An emaciated face appeared at the door of a nearby cell. How long had these people been here? She took in the gaunt eyes and ratty hair.

No, that wouldn’t be her.

She didn’t know exactly how long they’d keep her, but all of Madra had been invited to her ball at the end of the week. She had to be there, and the priests knew it.

As she stepped into the cell of her own will, she turned and lifted her chin, because she’d realized something else. She narrowed her eyes at the pudgy man locking her in. They couldn’t touch her. She was the princess of Madra, and the people must see her unharmed when she finally revealed her face to them.

She sat in the center of her cell and crossed her legs. They could lock her up, but they couldn’t take her freedom because she possessed none. They’d just changed her cage from a gilded one to a real one, but a cage was a cage, and she was used to feeling trapped.

They would have nothing from her. And when her brother became king, and she became head of the merchant council, they’d use their combined power to put the priesthood in their place.

They’d regret the day they made an enemy of Princess Helena Rhodipus.

Nothing changed in the hole. Helena didn’t know if it was day or if night had descended upon the world. How long had she been there?

They’d fed her mutton stew with watery wine, but how long ago was that?

She leaned back against the wall of her cell, listening to the coughing and wheezing echoing down the long hall. Footsteps sounded against the stone, and she straightened her spine.

Two female priests dragged a thin man past Helena’s cell.

She covered her mouth to hide her gasp. A tapestry of blood striped his back. She crawled forward and gripped the bars of her cell.

The woman returned, stopping as soon as they saw her.

“Princess,” one of them laughed before kicking the bars of her cell.

She pulled her hands back moments before the boot would have crushed them.