Alayna didn't stir until well into the next morning.
She groaned as she stretched, the movement making her ache all over. The chill in the room was so biting that she curled in on herself, seeking the warmth of the bed. And abruptly sat up when she realized she wasn't chained.
Alayna looked around the room, expecting to see Xanth lurking in every corner, watching her. But he wasn't there. She was alone.
She sank back in the bed, relishing her freedom of movement, even as her pussy, ass and every muscle in her body protested. Apparently two days of sex took a toll. From the corner of her eye, sunlight glinting off glass caught her eye. She turned her head, finding a glass vial and a note on the stand next to the bed. She reached for the note.
Drink it or you'll be back in chains.
That had to be Xanth's elegant, large handwriting. He dominated the paper like he dominated everything else. She picked the vial up and debated.
While she wanted a clear head to get an idea of her situation and plot a way out, she couldn't very well do that if he kept her chained to this bed. Undoubtedly, this was not an empty threat. With a scowl, she popped the cork and drank.
Alayna forced herself out of the warm bed and into the bathing chamber, which was slightly warmer thanks to a second hearth burning. Her body felt sticky with sweat and... other things it was best not to dwell on. She needed to be clean and she needed food. Unless he intended to starve her into submission.
It didn't take long to figure out how to work the bath, steaming water soon filling the tub. Alayna took advantage of all the different soaps and oils and creams lined out for use, using everything she could to wash the scent of leather, sandalwood and man from her body. The hot water helped ease all the aches and gave her some measure of energy. She half expected the door to open at any moment, for Xanth to come striding in and demanding she get on her knees. Alayna spent her entire bath aware of every sound on the other side of that door, but it never opened.
Once she was clean and feeling a little more like herself, she thoroughly brushed her teeth and worked the tangles out of her wet hair. Searching all the little nooks and crannies of the room produced nothing to wear, so she wrapped the thick towel tightly around her body and cracked the door open.
Not a sound met her ears from the other side, so she opened it a little wider and peered in. Nothing stirred. She stepped out, finding the bedroom just as empty as it had been when she woke.
Ah, but the room wasn't unchanged. The bedding had been changed yet again, the previously open window now closed. Fresh logs had been laid upon the hearth, filling the room with a pleasant heat. On the table in front of it sat a covered platter, the smell of something roasted making her stomach rumble. Xanth's servants were certainly skilled.
She started for the plate, suddenly feeling ravenous, yet hesitated. If he came back and found her in nothing more than a towel, there was no doubt where that would lead. Instead, Alayna walked over to the armoire and threw open the doors.
She'd expected dresses. Perhaps a tunic and a loose pair of breeches, if she was lucky. Not... whatever this was.
Alayna picked at the sheer fabric, wondering if they'd mistakenly given her scarves to wear. All of it was so thin, so sparse that none of it could truly be considered clothing. After several minutes of fussing with the fabric, she finally figured out how it was supposed to be word. Two thin strips of fabric rested on her shoulders and covered her breasts, albeit barely. The fabric was gathered at her waist, hanging off her hips, two more strips meant to cover her front and back. Alayna scowled at her appearance in the mirror. She looked like an exotic dancer at a brothel.
There was nothing for it, because more searching just provided more of the same in various different colors. For good measure, she wrapped the damp towel around her body again and then went to devour her meal.
By the time she'd finished every crumb and morsel of food, the aphrodisiac potion began its work. The towel felt too heavy around her, scraping against sensitive nipples. Alayna returned it to the bathing chamber, now grateful for the light, airy material covering her.
She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. Escape. There had to be a way out, something he hadn't thought of. But escape meant getting to the Greenfrost and he'd already confirmed there were all manner of nasty beasts lurking there, so she needed her magic Alayna stalked to the armoire and studied the cilice in the mirror. No matter how she turned or how much light from a candle she shined on it, she couldn't find any kind of seam that could be broken. It was one smooth band of metal, not unlike her armbands. Using the utensils from her meal also did not prove effective, because the damn thing refused to budge no matter how hard she pried at it. The metal teeth lining the inside were dug in too tightly to drag it off her arm.
Magic, then. It had to be removed by magic.
Five minutes later, as she lay gasping on the bedroom floor, tears pricking her eyelashes, Alayna decided that was not her smartest idea.
She had to wait for the pain to clear from her head before she could get back on her feet. Unwilling to risk the cilice's ire again, she went to the windows, propping one open so she could gauge the drop. He'd picked this room with too much care. There wasn't a single ledge or awning she could lower herself onto and shape shifting wasn't in her list of skills.
No way out through the window. She strode over to the door and tried the handle. Locked, of course. She retrieved the dull knife from its spot by the armoire and tried to slide it into the opening to lift the latch.
A jolt of magic shot through her fingertips, sharp enough she dropped the knife with a hiss, shaking her fingers. Of course the bastard had warded it.
Perhaps... perhaps if she could call on only a little magic, the cilice wouldn't notice. There
had
been a moment of hesitation when she tried to force it open before. Alayna closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, willing her body to relax. With careful, slow consideration, she reached inside herself and coaxed only the barest drop of her power to life, aiming it at the door.
The drop turned into a trickle. Her brows knitted as she tried to will it to calm, to ease. The trickle turned into a torrent.
For the second time that day, Alayna found herself on the bedroom floor, her nails digging into the plush carpets as pain wracked her body.
She lay there for a long while. Unwilling to admit defeat, but also unwilling to face that pain again. Perhaps that was why he'd left her unchained. He probably knew she would immediately try to run and wanted to teach her that it wasn't possible.
No. It was possible, she just hadn't found the right way yet. Waking up unchained was the first step. Eventually, he would have to let her out of this room. Once she was allowed into the rest of the castle, or wherever it was he held her, perhaps she could find another means of escape.
That meant waiting. Alayna turned to survey the beautifully decorated room... and realized she had nothing to do.
She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt bored. Back at the keep, there was always something to keep her occupied, whether it was men, potions that needed brewing, or people who needed healing. She worked from sunup to sundown and often well into the night. Before joining Beckett, she stayed on the move, keenly aware that her father was still searching for her.
But now? Nothing.
She searched the room for any books that might have been stowed away, for anything that would keep her hands busy. Nothing.
