After a few moments to adjust to the rapid change in her fate, Shyla ran her fingers over the collar, down the chain, and over the anchor, seeking weaknesses. The chain was only one meter long, limiting her range and preventing her from standing up straight. But if she knelt it was the perfect length. Instead she sat cross-legged, close to the anchor.

The link that connected to the anchor and the one attached to her collar were the same design. They had a hinge and a small keyhole. Perhaps she had something in her—

Pack! Yates hadn’t taken it from her. It was under her sun cloak, which she also wore. She dug into it. Water skin, pouch of osees, her wrap, a few rolls of jerky, a spider kit, but nothing slender and hooked. She wished she’d brought her cane, although she doubted the tip of the blade would work. For such a tiny lock, the key was probably a simple L-shape.

Once she explored every centimeter of her cell, she’d nothing left to do but think. She used her wrap as a makeshift pillow and stretched out on the hard floor. Her leg throbbed with painful pulses. She considered her chances of being rescued. That was an easy one—zero percent. Moving on, she searched her memories of the fight. She hoped that once Yates left with her, the rest had retreated. A few of the Invisible Swords had been injured, but from what she’d seen, the guards weren’t aiming to kill, which probably meant the prince wasn’t ready to take on the priestess.

She had been ready. They had enough people and, with the disguises, they could have reached the Heliacal Priestess and taken over. Hopefully, Elek had continued with the plan. From level ninety-six, the Invisible Swords would have better access to this level. Maybe there was a slight probability of being rescued. Ten percent? Fifteen? Better than zero.

Despair tried to creep into her thoughts, but she refused to let it in. She’d figure a way out of this eventually. For now, she’d cooperate until the opportunity arrived. Then she’d take it.

They kept her locked in that room for a long time. At least she had some water and food, but other bodily functions needed to be tended to. A mild discomfort turned into a painful pressure. A part of her recognized the effectiveness of this torture. She thought of Jayden living in luxury with plenty of buckets in reach. If he knew about her situation, he’d feel vindicated. He’d plotted with the priestess because he didn’t have faith in the Invisible Sword’s ability to stop the Water Prince. And here she was, his prisoner. Soon to be a wet and smelly one if—