The door creaked open suddenly, jolting me back to reality. Reyna’s shadowed figure filled the doorway. Her presence, though familiar, stirred more unease than comfort. She stepped into our bleak prison, her movements hesitant, her eyes darting around as though afraid to be caught.
“What areyoudoing here?” Roman snapped.
“I came to help,” she said, her voice trembling as she stood in the dim light.
Roman scoffed and turned away, his disgust palpable. “You’ve done enough. You brought us here, Reyna. You set us up.”
“I didn’t think it would go this way,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “I didn’t think my father would attack you.”
“Spare me your excuses,” Roman said bitterly, refusing to look at her.
Reyna flinched at his words, but before she could respond, I spoke up, my voice fragile but insistent. “Reyna.” She turned to me, and I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Please, let me see my babies before we face these challenges. Just once. Please.”
Her lips parted as if to reply, but she hesitated. Guilt flickered in her eyes before she shook her head, her gaze falling to the floor. “I can’t do that,” she murmured. “My father would kill me if he found out.”
“Please,” I said, my voice now edged with desperation. “I need to see my babies!”
My vision blurred as I fought back tears, unwilling to appear weak in front of this woman who held the keys to my children’s safety.
“They are well,” Reyna replied curtly, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Please, Reyna. We might not survive these tests.Please,” I begged, the foreign tone of pleading staining my words. Pride was a small sacrifice for the chance to see Luna and Rosie.
Roman squeezed my shoulder gently, a silent gesture of support.
The silence stretched like an endless abyss, tension thickening with each passing second. Finally, Reyna’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
“All right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it has to be quick. And if anyone finds out?—”
“Thank you,” I breathed out, relief washing over me for the first time since we’d been dragged from Pasha Hassan’s office.
Hand in hand, Roman and I followed Reyna down the dimly lit hallway, our footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. Roman’s grip was firm, his warmth seeping into my trembling hand—a lifeline amidst the storm of fear and uncertainty swirling inside me.
Reyna led us through the dimly lit passageway to an ornately carved door, its ancient wood groaning softly as it swung open. The chamber beyond was a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding stone of the tunnels. Soft golden lanterns cast a warm glow over plush white carpets, while murals of enchanted forests and mythical creatures adorned the walls, their colors vivid despite the absence of natural light. The air carried the gentle hum of lullabies, a fragile peace that felt almost otherworldly in the depths of the underground.
Two women stood near the center of the room, their faces etched with a maternal kindness that momentarily eased the ache in my chest. One gently rocked a cradle, her voice a soothing melody as she sang. Inside, little Luna’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her tiny form a picture of serenity.
“Rosie,” I whispered, my voice swallowed by the sheer relief that flooded me.
At the sound of my voice, Rosie looked up from her play mat, where she sat amidst a legion of carved wooden horses. Her little fingers held a clay whistle. With a squeal of joy, she abandoned her toys and sprinted toward Roman and me, her arms outstretched.
“This place is wonderful,” she said, wrapping her small arms around my legs. “I have new toys. I’m taking care of baby Luna.” She looked up at Roman and beamed.
“That’s wonderful,” he said, his voice soft yet warm. “I have no doubt you’re doing an excellent job.” He crouched and tousled her curly hair, his eyes growing moist as he gazed at her.
Kneeling, I leaned over the cradle and tenderly kissed Luna’s sweet face, feeling the warmth of her innocence against my lips. I turned and held out my arms to Rosie. Embracing her, I felt her tiny frame tremble slightly against mine, but her twinkling eyes and contagious giggle shielded her from the gravity of our situation. She hugged me fiercely, then pulled away. “Look at how fast my horse can run,” she said, holding up the wooden equine and galloping it through the air with neighing noises.
“Your horse is like the wind,” Roman said, sweeping his arm dramatically.
“She’s so fast!”
“This one’s a boy horse, Roman. You’re so silly.” Rosie giggled, her little nose wrinkling in delight.
“My apologies,” Roman said, nodding solemnly. “It’s obvious your horse is a boy.”
Rosie’s laughter rang out again, filling the room with a melody of innocence that momentarily drowned out the weight of reality pressing down on us.
Despite the gilded cage surrounding us, her laughter brought a fleeting moment of joy. Yet, beneath that facade of happiness, a chilling fear coiled in the depths of my heart, a reminder of the trials we would soon face. These precious moments with my children were as fragile as glass, threatening to shatter under the weight of the tests looming ahead.
