The General's Daughter (Snow and Ash #1) Read Online Free Page A

and down, and I am instantly reminded of how dirty I am, of how I must smell. He gives the bottle a nudge, sending it rolling out of the small circle of light.
    This time when he leaves, I don’t chase after him. I know I’ll find the door locked, and anyway my ankle is bruised and aching where the cuff digs in.
    I squeeze my legs together and try to remember a better time. I can’t. I am thirsty, really thirsty, but drinking anything is unthinkable. It’ll make the problem worse, and as the hours pass, the ache in my bladder gets so bad that I’m afraid to go to sleep. I might have that dream you get where you’re on the toilet peeing. I’m afraid I’ll wake and find it’s not a dream.
    Does Dad know I’m gone yet? Did someone race out afterward and call him back to town, or did he do his duty and head off General Barry first? It’s a toss which one he’ll choose. The only thing Dad loves more than me is power. I try to imagine him recalling his troops, having them scour the countryside looking for me, but the truth is, I can’t. He’ll protect the mountain first.
    Bluefield always comes first.
    Every time I hear footsteps outside my door or the muffled voices of others, I jump to my feet. But no one comes for me.
    It aches so bad now that every second feels like twenty. If I’m not holding my muscles, pee will shoot out. It is all I can think about.
    When the door finally opens again, Talon takes one look at me, half bent, bracing myself against the wall with one hand. “What the fuck?”
    He sweeps up the bottle of water and strides over.
    “Please,” I say. “I’ll do anything you want. Just let me use the bathroom, okay?”
    Talon dumps the lantern, unscrews the lid on the bottle, and fists the back of my hair.
    When I gasp, he tilts the bottle and begins pouring water down my throat.
    I choke.
    I shove against him, I strain backward, but I can’t move, can’t go anywhere. When I squeeze my lips together and the water spills over my face, Talon stops.
    “You will drink.” He backs me up against the wall, and I discover he is solid muscle. He lets go of my hair only to pinch my nose shut.
    I shake my head back and forth, but it is useless. I think my lungs are going to burst like a balloon. Talon presses harder against me, and that’s when I fail. I open my mouth and wheeze in a deep breath. Instantly water pours down my throat.
    And my bladder lets loose.
    Talon backs up a fraction, enough so he won’t get wet himself. Only when I’ve chugged the entire bottle does he release me.
    “I’m in charge,” he says. “Not you. You want to live? Eat what I give you, drink what I leave you, and do what I tell you. You have to piss? Use the bucket.”
    When he flings me away from him, I am crying. I have just peed my pants for him.
    As I lean against the wall, openly sobbing, he kicks the bucket so hard it cracks against the opposite wall. The door slams shut behind him.

    By the time I have to go again, my throat is raw. I’ve been screaming for hours, beating my hands against the door, but no one comes. No one cares. My hands throb where I’ve broken the skin, and they’re bleeding. I smell worse than I ever imagined I could.
    When I was little, Mom used to take me to church. The pastor would tell us we’d go to hell if we didn’t follow the Bible, if we didn’t accept Jesus Christ into our lives. I just thought it wouldn’t happen until after I died. The sad thing is, I’m pretty sure I deserve it.
    Knowing it’s a fight I’ll never win, I right the bucket and use it. My pants and underwear are clammy against my skin, and I think for a minute about taking them off. But I don’t want to be any more naked and vulnerable than I already am when Talon returns.
    When the door opens again, Talon merely dumps a new plate on the floor along with a bottle of water. He exchanges a new bucket for the old one.
    I can’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me, calculating, assessing.
    He