Chapter 12: Fingers in the dark - 2
Lira stood in the tavern’s cellar, her arms at her sides, her breath steady but her heart pounding like a war drum.
She wore only her underwraps—a thin linen chest band clinging to her small breasts, a shortcloth tied loosely at her hips, the kind she’d wear to slip through shadows or sleep unnoticed.
Her weapons were locked away upstairs, but her pride stood firm, a shield against the vulnerability creeping into her bones.
Kio stood behind her, uncoiling black rope with steady hands, the fibers whispering against his calluses.
The cellar was a shadowed world—stone walls slick with damp, lanterns casting a faint amber glow, the air thick with oak, iron, and the sharp bite of lamp oil.
The tavern above slumbered, its patrons gone, Mira’s snores a distant hum through the floorboards.
"Sit," Kio said, his voice low, a command wrapped in calm.
Lira sank into the high-backed wooden chair at the cellar’s center, her movements stiff, her emerald eyes flickering with defiance and need.
Kio knelt, binding her ankles first—spread wide, secured to the chair’s legs with tight, clean knots.
Her wrists came next, crossed behind her and tied to the chair’s back, the rope biting just enough to ground her.
A final loop circled her chest, just below her breasts, pinning her against the wood, her breaths shallow but steady.