Chapter 41

I found out after three weeks of staying in the dungeons that I had never felt pain like this in my life. The fact that what had happened between Killian and me, and all the incidents of bad luck I’d had, was nothing compared with a few minutes with the old witch.

“My little doll,” that’s what Elias, the witch, would call me. He would then proceed to try his best to unravel me, pick me apart, and then put me back together with magic. At the end of the day, I’d be taken away. By sunrise—that’s when the guards often came, at least that’s what they said—and I’d be given just a stale loaf of bread with water, taken to the witch where I’d scream and curse to the goddess above for a quick death, an escape that never came. I’d blacked out, but when I came to again, it was sunrise, and the guard was guiding me toward the witch, over and over again.

I lost track of the days after the third month—or w