Doris POV
There was somebody else here?
I’ve been here for so long and I had never noticed another person in the prison with me. I sat up, struggling to move. Every ounce of movement caused another shot of pain to surge through my body and cripple me back to the ground.
“Don’t try to move too much,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood.”
I peered around the dark prison, unsure of who was speaking. He sounded like an older gentleman.
Why hadn’t he spoken until that moment?
He walked out of the shadows; he was in the cell in front of mine, I gasped as he came into view. He had a likeness about him, but I couldn’t pinpoint where I recognized him. I don’t think I have ever met him before, but I couldn’t help but think that I slightly recognized him.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said hoarsely, as I crawled toward the cell bars, collapsing to the ground in pain.
“I said don’t try move too much,” he said again, louder.
I sighed, feeling defeated.
“So, you’ve been wrongly imprisoned?” He asked, eyeing me carefully.
“They think I did something horrible. But I could never,” I said as tears ran down my features and stung the open wound on my face.
“Jack did a number on you,” he said, staring around at my wounds.
“He wanted me to confess something I didn’t do,” I sobbed.
“Who exactly was poisoned?” He asked; curiosity lacing his tone.
“Lady Melody,” I breathed. “I was her handmaiden.”
“And they think you poisoned her because you wanted Prince William to yourself?” He asked with a slight chuckle.
I found his voice to be oddly comforting, but at the same time, I was annoyed that he was finding humor in this.
“I don’t want him,” I muttered.
“Most women do,” he said, humor still dancing in his face.
“He’s pretentious; I want nothing to do with him,” I muttered, mimicking what William had said to and about me.
“Considering what Daniel had said that he’s the one that’s going to decide your fate. I would want everything to do with him,” he said.
I had forgotten that Daniel was here a few days ago. Which meant this man heard everything Daniel and I spoke about.
“Out of all the royal family, Daniel is my favorite,” the old man stated, leaning against the bars of his cell.
I frowned; it was weird that Daniel had never mentioned having a friend in the prison. Especially when he was here the other day.
“You’re lucky to call him a friend,” he said.
“He’s a prince. Not a friend,” I corrected. “Princes can’t be friends with maids.”
“Says who?” He laughed.
“Says, everybody. It’s one of the main rules,” I told him.
“Don’t the royal family deserve friends too?” He asked.
“Well, sure, but in their ranking,” I told him. “Prince Daniel is an amazing guy, but a maid can’t be considered his friend.”
The man was silent for a moment as he processed what I said.
“The royal family is like you and me,” he said softly. “Except all they care about is power and gaining more of it. They don’t care about humans and wolves. They only care about themselves. But Daniel has always been different. He never cared about power or money. His childhood was stripped from him. But he’s still just a kid at heart. I think that’s why I’m fond of the young lad.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I finally gained enough strength to sit up, using the bars of the cell as leverage.
“Easy there,” the old man said. “So, Prince William… you don’t care about him at all?”
I had to stifle a laugh; no, I didn’t care about William at all. He obviously cared nothing for me, and I wouldn’t put it passed him to want to lock me up forever or have me killed. But I couldn’t, out of the greater good of my conscience, allow for Jack, or anyone, to think that William had anything to do with Melody’s death.
That wouldn’t be fair to him.
“I don’t think Melody was the main target,” I said, ignoring his question.
He frowned and tilted his head at me.
“Oh?” He asked.
“The poison was in the soup that was meant for the queen,” I explained. “I noticed that there was an Aconitum flower in the soup.”
“The queen is allergic to Aconitum’s,” he said, letting my words process.
“I know, so I switched the bowls. I didn’t think it was poisoned too though,” I stated.
“Talk about bad luck,” he muttered.
I nodded and stared down at my lap; blood was seeping through my clothing. As I adjusted my body, I winced at the pain, and I stopped moving.
“Can I help you with your wounds?” He asked.
I frowned and stared back at him.
“Help me?” I asked. “How?”
He took a rock that sat beside him, which I hadn’t noticed until that moment. It was small enough, but it looked sharp.
I gasped as he sliced the palm of his hand with the sharpness of the rock, blood pooling in his hands.
“Here,” he said, cupping his hands and reaching out of his cell, toward me. “Cup your hands and bring them to me.”
I stared at him curiously and with loads of confusion in my eyes; but for some reason, there was something about him that I trusted. I wanted to do as he said, so I cupped my hands and reached toward him through my cell.
We were just the right amount of distance apart from where he was able to reach me. I felt the warmth of his blood pouring into my cup-formed hands.
“Rub it on your wounds,” he said.
I began with my legs; I rubbed the blood along the bruises and the tender spots on my legs and worked my way up my body.
I saved the little bit left for my face. Rubbing it in generously so it only looked like my body was dirty and not covered in blood.
I gasped as my bruises started subsiding and the pain eased away almost instantly. I touched my fingers to my face and the wound was closing with every passing moment.
“How is this possible?” I breathed, staring at him. “Are you some kind of sorcerer?” I asked in awe.
Not before long, most of my wounds were completely gone and the pain left with them.
He chuckled.
“Something like that,” he said as he wiped his hands on his shirt.
“Your blood heals?” I asked.
“Apparently,” he said, his tone teasing.
Before I could ask any more questions, I heard the main doors of the prison opening and then closing. I tensed as I feared it was Jack coming back to cause me more torment.
But it wasn’t.
Instead, it was a man I didn’t recognize; or so I don’t think I recognized. He was tall, but I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a mask.
He went straight over to the old man’s cell and for a moment, I feared he was going to hurt the old man. But the old man didn’t seem phased by his presence; instead, he seemed pleased.
“I’m here to get you out, sir,” the masked man said; his voice kept proper as he addressed the old man.
“About damn time,” the old man responded with a grin.