Ascension Saga: 2. Grace Goodwin

       Queen Celene of Alera, Prison Cell, Location Unknown

      I knew from the angry, quick slap of my captor’s boots on the smooth, metallic floor that something had happened. Something that would make his customary ranting and raving seem pale in comparison.

      “Open the door.” The bark was louder than usual through the thick metal.

      His order was obeyed instantly, but even the speed of the two guards he had chained outside the door wasn’t enough, and I watched as he struck them with an electrically charged flogger repeatedly for being too slow.

      The two aliens—whose race I could not define—flinched, but didn’t make a sound. Like me, both were prisoners. Perhaps more so, for I was not a slave destined to live a life of cruelty and despair.

      And this bastard knew it. Thrived on it.

      I wasn’t a slave. I was a queen. Even in my red and black lumberjack plaid pajamas I’d been wearing when they’d taken me. I sat on the edge of the small cot I’d been provided, my ankles crossed, my hands settled demurely in my lap, my chin up and my eyes shooting as much disdain and disgust as I could manage while cold, hungry, bleeding. I would not give in to this alien’s glee at weakening me.

      “What do you know of the citadel?” he asked.

      My silence was all the answer he would receive, but hope flared in my heart. I’d been taken days ago. Perhaps