How could she ever welcome me, knowing the truth?

Could Casteel ever look upon me the same?

My chest twisted painfully as I stared at the food. Would I even get the chance to see Casteel again? Seconds turned into minutes as I tried to keep my thoughts from straying toward what Alastir planned. I couldn’t let myself dwell too long on it—to think about the worst-case scenario playing out in my mind. If I did, the panic I’d been fighting off would seize control of me.

I wouldn’t let Alastir’s plan succeed. I couldn’t. I needed to either escape or fight back the second I could. Which meant, I needed my strength. I had to eat.

Reaching out carefully, I broke off a piece of the cheese and gingerly tasted it. There was little flavor to it. The section of bread I tried next was most definitely stale, but I quickly ate both and then drank the water, trying not to think about the gritty taste or how dirty it likely was.

Once I finished, I turned my attention to the spear. I wouldn’t be able to hide it, even if I were able to free it from the poor soul beside me. But if I could break off the blade, I might have a better chance. Drawing in a breath that felt…oddly heavy, I inched my hand toward the spear and stopped suddenly. It wasn’t the bindings. They hadn’t tightened.

I swallowed, and my heart skipped a beat. A strange, sweetness coated the back of my throat and my…my lips tingled. I pressed the tips of my fingers to them and didn’t think I felt the pressure. I tried to swallow again, but it felt weird—as if the mechanics of my throat had slowed.

The food. The gritty taste of the water.

Oh, gods.

That sweet taste. The sleeping drafts the Healers made in Masadonia had a sugary-sweet aftertaste. There was a reason I’d refused the drafts, no matter how little sleep I got. They were powerful and rendered you completely unconscious for hours and hours—leaving you entirely helpless.

They’d drugged me.

This was how Alastir planned to move me. How he planned to deliver me to the Ascended. He’d be able to remove the bindings safely when I was unconscious. And when I came to…

There was a good chance I’d be in the Ascended’s hands once again.

And Alastir’s plan would likely come to fruition because I would never allow the Ascended to use me for anything.

Anger at them—and myself—exploded within me and then quickly gave way to panic as I staggered to the wall. I barely felt the pain of the bindings tightening. Desperate, I reached for the spear. If I could get that blade, I wouldn’t be weaponless, even with the damn bone and root bindings. I tried to seize it, but my arm wouldn’t lift. It didn’t feel as if it were a part of me any longer. My legs became heavy, numb.