The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

Gritting my teeth against the pressure of the bindings
around my wrist, I slowly inched my hand to the left as I
stared at the spear on the skeleton’s chest. Fresh blood
dripped onto the stone, and I stopped, breathing raggedly.
I waited, having learned that with each inch gained, the
bindings loosened a little. Gaining that knowledge had been
a painstakingly slow process.
Focusing on deep, steady breaths, I rested the side of
my head against the wall as my entire arm throbbed. I had
no idea how much time had passed since I’d lost
consciousness. It had to be hours. Maybe longer as my
pangs of hunger had gone from sporadic waves to a low,
steady gnawing ache in my gut. And I was cold—every part
of my body felt chilled.
My gaze crept over the stone coffins. Why had they
been given the honor of a proper resting place while the
ones against the walls hadn’t? That was only one of the
many questions I had. Granted, it wasn’t nearly the most
important one, but I’d rather think about that than wonder
why I was still alive.
Jansen had claimed that I was a threat. And maybe
whatever had awakened in me at the Temple was. Perhaps I
was a threat. But why keep me alive? Or was this what
they’d planned all along? To just shove me into this crypt
and leave me here until I died of hunger or starvation,
becoming nothing but another dusty pile of bones against
the wall.
Panic was a vise around my throat, making it harder to
breathe. I shut it down, though. I couldn’t let myself give in
to the fear that had formed a haunting shadow in the back