I didn't realize the palace sat on top of an old prison.
It wasn't exactly a prison. At one time, it had technically been a dungeon, but now, it served as holding cells for political prisoners.
There were no windows. It had been cut straight into whatever rock made up the island. It was wet, water constantly dripping down the walls. There was some sort of mold growing along the walls too, and it smelled like dead fish.
I was the only one in the entire holding area. There wasn't even a guard down here at the moment. A few incandescent bulbs lit the area, but it didn't do much to light it.
Old-style prison bars constructed two walls of my cell. I gripped them and rattled them, but they wouldn't give in. I contemplated throwing myself at them a few times to see if I could work something loose, but I was sore enough that I didn't want to risk any further injury.