Chapter 169

Chapter 169
Henriette woke with a sharp gasp, her breath catching in her throat as the chill of damp stone bit into her skin. The air was thick, stale, carrying the metallic tang of rust and old magic. When her eyes adjusted to the dim flicker of torchlight, realization slammed into her. Iron bars. Stone walls. Shadows that moved like memories.

“What the hell?” she breathed, her voice hoarse and trembling.

“Thess!” she called out, her voice echoing down the empty corridor. No response. Only silence, the heavy, suffocating kind that made her chest tighten.

Her hands flew to her body, expecting pain, wounds, something, but there was nothing. Not even a bruise. She frowned. Did they throw me in the tub and bring me back again? she wondered, her thoughts spinning. The idea made her stomach twist.

Her gaze darted around the cell once more, and her pulse spiked. The dungeon wasn’t the one from the castle she’d known. No, this one was different, familiar in all the wrong ways. The fluorescent hum in the distance, the faint drip of water echoing off concrete, this wasn’t the ancient kingdom’s prison. This was her world’s dungeon. The modern world.

“My baby!” she cried out suddenly, the words tearing from her throat like a wound reopening. Her voice cracked as the panic rushed through her, cold and sharp.

“I have to get out of here,” she whispered, then shouted louder, forcing strength into her voice as she stumbled to her feet.

She grabbed the bars and shook them until her palms burned. “Hello? Anyone?” Her voice echoed, bouncing back at her like mockery. The silence that followed was unbearable.

Then a familiar voice broke through it. “Henriette! Thank goodness you’re okay!” Thess’s voice came from the next cell, raw with relief. She scrambled to the edge, clutching the bars that connected their cells, her knuckles white.

Henriette rushed toward her, her heartbeat hammering. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, fingers gripping the cold metal as if she could force the answers out of it.

“Your baby,” Thess began breathlessly, her voice shaking. “He had a birthmark, just like King Roberto.”

Henriette’s heart dropped. “Oh no,” she whispered, her knees weakening. She pressed her forehead against the bars, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “Where is my baby now?”

“I—I’m not sure,” Thess stammered, her eyes wide and wet. “All I know is that she pushed the baby into a servant’s arms and said that if she ever saw her—or the baby—again, she’d kill them both!” Thess’s words tumbled out, her voice breaking into sobs. “I tried, Henriette, I really did. But you were dying, and she, she told King Roberto that your baby didn’t make it. With his help, she got you to the tub. Of course I followed, I couldn’t let you go alone. I thought it was just us, that we could go straight back, but when we crossed to this side, you still didn’t wake up.”

Henriette’s eyes widened, horror freezing her in place as Thess went on, the story spilling out too fast to stop.

“I was about to call Avery for help, but Queen Henriette, and a few of her guards followed us. They locked us up before I could even explain,” Thess said, her voice trembling with exhaustion. It sounded like confession and panic tangled together, like every word might be her last.

Henriette swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe through the storm of emotions clawing at her chest. “Have you seen Avery?” she asked softly, trying to steady her voice, though it came out cracked.

“They dragged him back to the other side,” Thess whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear, despair, and helplessness that made it crack in the quiet dungeon air. She sobbed harder, shoulders shaking violently as if the weight of the world itself were pressing down on her, and her tears fell freely, hot and blinding, soaking the rough fabric of her sleeves. The sound of her grief echoed off the cold, damp stone walls, bouncing back at them like a chorus of sorrow, as if the dungeon itself were mourning with her, amplifying the heartbreak and filling the air with the heavy, metallic taste of despair. Every drip of water from the ceiling seemed to fall in rhythm with her gasping sobs, each drop a tiny percussion in the symphony of loss that surrounded them, making Henriette’s chest tighten with helpless fury and urgent fear.

Henriette gripped the bars tighter, the cold biting into her skin. “Why would Queen Henriette do that? We’re friends!” she cried, disbelief cutting through her voice. “You’re her best friend!”

Thess shook her head helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Maybe King Roberto wants to punish him,” she said between shaky breaths. “For what he did to her, back when we were teenagers.” She wiped at her tears, but they kept coming, falling faster than she could chase them away.

Henriette sank to her knees, her hands still clutching the bars.