Her empty stomach rumbled, urging her to find food, but the prison fare Euron sent his niece was either bread crawling with maggots, salt pork as hard as a board, or fish that had already begun to rot. It was food she would only touch when on the edge of starvation. The cell around her was pitch dark, the shackles had worn painful calluses into her wrists and ankles, rats squeaked as they scurried past, and lice burrowed into her clothes and skin, biting until she itched and bled. Yet bound in chains, she could not even scratch.
This was Blood Keep, one of the main towers of Pyke, built atop a jagged rock that jutted vertically out of the sea, farther from the central keep than even the island itself. Its upper floors were spacious and well-furnished, housing honored guests. Its hollowed-out lower levels served as a dungeon. The irony was bitter. Asha Greyjoy, once nearly Queen of the Iron Islands, was now imprisoned again in her own home. And while both times she had lost her freedom, this treatment was worse than when she had been held by enemies.
More tormenting than the physical suffering was the confusion and humiliation. Asha still could not understand how her uncle had gained such terrifying sorcery.
That day in the great hall, she had managed to shift the Ironborn leaders' hostility away from herself and onto the Night's Watch. Her reintegration into her people had gone smoothly. Even if Euron denied her a ship, she could have settled for remaining by his side as a deputy. It would have been stifling, but it would have offered the perfect chance to strike.
But everything fell apart the moment Euron lifted his eye patch and revealed that wicked eye. The instant she met its gaze, the red-back, black-pupil monstrosity locked her in place. Her body ceased to obey, her breath choked in her throat, and her thoughts froze. And yet, paradoxically, her mind seemed laid bare, as if her skull had been split open and all her thoughts spilled out into the sun.
No, it wasn't just that. Meeting Euron's eye had somehow created a bridge between their minds. With every breath, a stream of fragmented, alien images surged through her consciousness. Strange and terrifying things she could not understand, things absurd but horrifically real. It felt like she had passed through the deepest level of hell. When she came to, she remembered nothing clearly, but a suffocating mass had lodged itself in her heart.
Now, thinking back, what she had seen must have been Euron's memories. Whether delusions or truth, they had left a mark.
And in return, Euron had surely seen through her assassination plan, every thought of it.
...
In the damp and fetid dark, the only light came from the jailer's torch. The strange man who came to patrol or deliver food was nameless, silent, and full of hostility. He had not spoken a single word since her imprisonment. After several failed attempts to negotiate, question, or even seduce him, Asha reached a conclusion. This man was not Ironborn. He was likely a crewman from the Silence, brought from some foreign land. He didn't speak because he was mute, and seduction failed because he either didn't understand the Common Tongue or feared Crow's Eye more than he desired women. Most likely, he lacked not only a tongue but also balls.
After figuring this out, Asha stopped wasting her breath and began pretending to be deaf and mute herself, resigning to the role of a compliant prisoner.
Euron had arrested her openly. Even he likely wouldn't dare to make her vanish without a trace. As for fabricating charges, what could he say? That his wicked eye had seen her intentions? That he knew she planned to kill him?
And she still held one identity that, though she never wanted it, could now save her life. She was the wife of Lord Eymar.
A Lord could not simply kill the wife of a bannerman without cause. These factors meant the most probable outcome was being bound and sent back to her "husband" for house arrest. If that happened…
In the cold, fetid dark, surrounded by the stench of mold, waste, and death, Asha picked up a piece of beef as hard as rock from the tray and quietly gnawed at it. She was Balon's daughter. She would not surrender to fate. The food was foul, but it was still food. When she left this cell again, wherever she was taken, she would need strength. She would not let herself miss another opportunity because her body was too weak to seize it.
Tap, tap...
Just as she was hardening her resolve, a noise echoed from outside the door. Asha meant to ignore it, but after a few seconds, she paused her chewing and pricked up her ears.
She couldn't deal with the jailer, but this time the footsteps were not from just one person. Could Euron have decided on a new fate for her and was moving her?
The steps grew louder and quicker. More footsteps joined them, followed by harsh breathing, the sound of things crashing, a muffled groan, furniture scraping across stone, and a heavy thud. This didn't sound like a prison transfer. Could someone be attacking the jailer?
Her heart leapt. Did someone still dare help her? Did she still have allies on the islands?
Asha dropped the jerky, sat up with effort, and stared toward the cell door.
Sure enough, several torchlights approached, and she heard her name shouted.
Without hesitation, she shouted back, "Here! I'm here!"
The torchlight was blinding after so long in the dark. Asha could barely open her eyes as the rescuers reached her cell. They had no patience for keys. They simply hacked the lock apart with an axe, then broke her shackles and pulled her up. Her legs nearly gave way beneath her.
"Who sent you?" Asha asked, shielding her eyes.
"The Reader." Two of the men lifted her, one on each side. The one on the left answered shortly.
Her uncle. But Asha knew Pyke's layout well. There was no way to infiltrate the dungeon from outside. "How did you get in here?"
"King Euron told the Captain about your arrest and asked him to come to Pyke to discuss what to do with you," said the tall man on her right. "We entered through the main gate with the Lord. We're staying in the guest rooms above Blood Keep tonight. Now stop asking. We need to move."
Why would Euron bring her uncle here to discuss how to deal with her, creating the perfect opportunity to break her out? It didn't make sense. But this was no time to argue. "Wait, I have two sailors imprisoned elsewhere..."
"Our orders are to rescue you. We don't care about your sailors," the third man, holding a torch and a weapon, snapped as he turned to lead the way without even glancing back.
If they weren't rescued, those two loyal men who had escaped with her were doomed. Asha wanted to say she wouldn't leave without them, but she swallowed the words. These were her uncle's men, not her own crew. If she caused trouble now, they might abandon her entirely.
She had more important things to do. She could not die here out of stubborn pride. Harl, Hogen... may the Drowned God watch over you.
Supported by the two men, Asha staggered toward the dungeon exit. The silent jailer now lay sprawled by the door, blood flowing from a head wound. He was still breathing, barely. The problem with a mute guard was that he couldn't even call for help while being attacked. She wanted to spit on him, but her mouth was too dry. She gave up the gesture and followed her rescuers up the narrow stairs.
It was strange enough that there had only been one jailer. The fact that no one blocked them on their way out was even stranger. The lack of defenses was eerie. A feeling of unease swelled in Asha's chest. But despite being ready for a trap, they emerged from the dungeon and reached open air without incident.
It was midnight. The sky was full of stars, and a cold wind blew through the stone corridors. They walked silently along the outer wall of the reef tower, then reached the cliff face on the east side, looking toward the mainland. The leader secured a rope, tied Asha to it, and began lowering her down. A small boat waited below.
Asha, weakened by imprisonment, had trouble even holding the rope. She swayed precariously for a long while in the wind. Eventually, the men in the boat caught her safely and pulled her aboard.
Once the three rescuers descended and joined her, the five of them began rowing away from Pyke under cover of night.
Only then did Asha give voice to the doubt in her heart. "Where were the guards? Did you kill them all? How did we not meet a single one?"
"Isn't it a good thing it went smoothly?" one man grunted. "Would it only count if someone died getting you out?"
The other man was more patient. "We didn't run into anyone coming in either. Maybe King Euron is too confident in Pyke's cliffs and thinks there's no threat from inside."
"Where is my uncle?" Asha asked sharply. "Euron might have been waiting for him to act rashly, just so he could arrest him for treason."
"The Captain escaped Pyke just before us. He's waiting on the Sea Song."
"Look, over there."
Asha turned. Her sharp eyes pierced the dark. By starlight, she saw a ship's silhouette floating on the water several hundred yards away.
Even without sunlight, she recognized it instantly. It was indeed the Sea Song, her uncle Rodrik Harlaw's flagship. One of the sturdiest and swiftest warships in all the Iron Islands.
She pinched her thigh hard. It hurt.
This wasn't a dream. She had escaped.
Just as Asha breathed a long sigh of relief, finally believing her earlier dread was nothing more than paranoia, a deep, thunderous bell rang out behind them, from the direction of Pyke. The almost too-smooth escape ended there. A long time after the jailbreak had succeeded, the guards had finally discovered something was wrong.
(To be continued.)