To The Princess Bound by Sara King Page B

tweak could make one of the blood-vessels weak enough to explode when, say, you take your next dump.”
    No wonder the Imperium wants to get rid of them, Victory thought, in horror.
    “But I’m a healer ,” Dragomir said.  “I help people.  That’s why I’m here, this life.  That’s why I didn’t join the rebellion.  That’s why your brother’s still breathing , after torturing an innocent man for three days straight.”
    “Matt didn’t torture you,” Victory said, automatically defensive of her twin brother.
    Dragomir gave her a long, piercing look.
    She swallowed.  Quickly, she said, “How do I know you’re not just trying to get me to untie your hands?”
    “I am just trying to get you to untie my hands,” he laughed.  Dragomir leaned forward and shifted his arms behind him, a pained look on his face.  “My goddamn wrists and shoulders hurt like hell.  I’m willing to work on your ankles, in exchange.”
    Well, at least he’s honest.   Victory glanced down at her ankles.  The joints now felt as if someone had poured raw acid into the cartilage, and the piercing heat was working its way into her feet.
    “Basically, what I’m seeing,” Dragomir said, “Is that you cut your own feet off, mentally.”  He cocked his head at her.  “ Did they use ankle shackles?” 
    She grimaced and looked away.
    He nodded.  “My guess is that you hated your feet for keeping you trapped, so you forgot that they existed.  Gi flows according to thought, so it started puddling just above the middle of the ankle bone.  What I would do is start re-establishing the old pathways, help pull it down into your feet.”
    “I didn’t ‘hate my feet,’” Victory sneered, but it felt like a lie on her lips.  “That’s nothing but delusional Emp garbage.”
    Dragomir shrugged his big shoulders.  “If you want to deal with the pain without my help, that’s your prerogative.  You have me bound and helpless, after all.”  He yawned and, leaning back against the headboard, closed his eyes.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded.
    “Going to sleep.”  He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
    Victory frowned.  “I’m talking to you.”
    “You’re not interested in anything I have to say.” Dragomir said, “So I might as well just keep it to myself.”
    “I am interested,” Victory blurted.  So interested it hurt.  “If I were to release your hands—and I’m not saying I’m going to—what insurance would I have that you would allow me to shackle them again, once we were done?”
    He sighed, deeply.  “My word, I suppose.  Though it won’t be necessary, I swear to you.”
    Victory watched him carefully.  “You are telling me on your honor that, if I free you, you will willingly allow me to put you back in shackles at any time?”
    “I’m saying it’s hardly necessary, but yes.  If it would help you sleep better tonight.”
    Victory grimaced.  “I’m not going to sleep tonight, thank you.”
    He raised a heavy eyebrow at her.  “Why not?”
    The question was so absurd that she just gaped at him, then laughed.  She gestured at her bed.  “Because there’s a…a…”
    “Huge naked man practically the size of a house sharing the room with you?”
    Victory lowered her hand, nervously, once more reminded of the fact that she was trapped in the room with a male .  She felt the old panic begin to rise, and she took a step back, tightening the chain.
    “Have you thought about the fact,” Dragomir said, “that for most of the last couple hours or so, you’ve been chatting with me like a normal human being, instead of screaming and cringing and trying to run away like a scared little kid?”
    Victory flushed, anger wiping the panic away.  “I am the Royal Princess, and you will not speak to me like that.”
    Dragomir snorted.  “Right now, I couldn’t care if you were the Royal Turd Receptacle.  My arms hurt, I’m hungry, I’m naked, and I’m