Page 23

A loud bang jostles me awake and I startle up, pulling the blanket up over the bottom half of my face. I find him glaring down at me. I squint up at him and then around the room, readjusting to where it is I am and who with. His accusing eyes are bloodshot and heavily bagged. He has one fist still resting against the nightstand. I realize that’s how he’s decided to wake me up. What a dick. I glower back at him.

“I’m going to get the seamstress.”

“Righ’ now?” I mumble groggily, swiping my hands over my eyes and peering down at my only dress. He’d cleaned it last night after my trek in the Blood Wood but I’m still eager for fresh clothes.

“Yep.” With that, he sweeps out of the room.

The seamstress’s silver hair is cropped into a short bob around her chin, face pressed into a deep scowl as she surveys my position on the couch from under her nose. It’s Sitri that makes me double-take as he trails in behind her. His face is so cold it’s almost sinister. He doesn’t make eye contact as he stalks past and slumps down on the other end of the sofa.

“So, this is the nought?” the seamstress asks.

“She’s the one.”

“A true pity, Cernunnos.”

A wave of hot, suffocating anger washes over me. Surely he’s not going to allow her to speak to me like that? I stare after him for a moment too long.

“Nought,” he snaps in exasperation, waving an impatient hand to motion me forward.

The blood drains from my face as I clench my mouth shut and rise stiffly, crossing my arms across my chest as I take a position several feet away from her. So, this is how it’s going to be whenever other people are around? Whatever trust he had begun to establish between us disintegrates completely. I’m his punishment, after all. He’s so ashamed of me, he can hardly even stand it. The betrayal wounds me further than it should, and my throat tightens. Ridiculous how soon I’d begun to drop my guard.

I won’t be making that mistake again.

The seamstress flicks her fingers and barks at me to move this way and that as her measuring tape flits around my body. She makes a disapproving noise after each measurement like my size is somehow unsatisfactory.

“They should be ready by tomorrow,” she declares once she’s finished. “The gown will need a little more time.”

Gown?

“As long as it’s ready by the day of,” Sitri says, rising.

“I truly hope for all our sakes a better arrangement is found for you, Cernunnos.”

“Thank you.”

“They’ve been behind the Wall for a long time. Maybe an illness will befall her.”

My mouth pops open. She means maybe I’ll die. Sitri says nothing, simply opening the door to see her out. I set my jaw to question him as soon as she’s gone when he slinks out the door behind her and the door slams shut.

I barge after them and pound at the door. “Hey! Wait! What am I supposed to do!”

The sound of their footsteps grows faint in the distance. I turn around and face the empty chambers. I was so intent on escaping…what the hell am I supposed to do now?

Maybe an illness will befall her.

I can’t stay here with him. He doesn’t even really want me here. But he was right….I know nothing of the world outside the Wall. My escape attempt was made too hastily. I need to figure out how to navigate this world. I need information.

I begin tearing through the chambers again. The first time, I’d been foraging for supplies to aid in my escape. This time, I’m searching for knowledge about this world and the witch I’m tethered to.

My investigations don’t turn up much. There are trinkets and crystals, jars and vials filled with ingredients. They offer me no secret knowledge, no glimmer of understanding. I don’t know what the majority of these items even are. The chest of knives is still unlocked as promised. I stuff one back into my hiding spot between the cushions.

I spy a pile of books on his desk and bundle them into my arms to carry them out into the living room. My breakfast plate has been slid under the door. And next to it lies a bag. I drop the books on the coffee table, scurry over to it and snatch it open. Inside is an extraordinary amount of food and a rope.

She really did it. It’s a comfort to know I have an ally of sorts here. It must’ve taken some serious finagling to get all to fit under the door. The rope is much longer than my hand-crafted one. I carry it out to the balcony to see how far it will go. Not that I intend to use it right now but it’s good to know I have the option.

My hands reach forward to toss the rope to the other side of the rail and smack into something hard, smooth and solid. I run my fingers over the invisible wall that now encapsulates the entire balcony.

Damn him.

Slumping back down to the couch, I retrieve one of the books, intending to take my time investigating them. Inside I find page after page of strange symbols. I toss it aside to thumb through the next. “Ugh! They’re all like this!”

Scampering off the couch, I scurry into the bedroom to continue my snooping and find myself back at his desk, unwrinkling wads of paper only to find more…of those goddamn unreadable symbols, this time in his own pen. In his desk drawer is a plain leather bound notebook, each page filled with illustrations of monsters I don’t recognize. Did he draw these? I’m annoyed to admit they’re very good.

I settle in the chair and study each one, wishing he had labeled them so I could learn their names. Are these real? I suppress a shudder. I pause when I land on a sketch of a woman with long curly hair, kind eyes and mouth curved into a warm smile, so at odds with the rest of the monstrous creatures. A past lover? Someone he wished to marry?

Something about her is familiar to me. I lean forward, studying each feature. No, she resembles him. Same mouth, same eye shape. Oh. It’s his mother. What happened to her?

I continue flipping through the pages, more creatures. My jaw drops when I get to the last one. It’s me. A drawing of me shrouded, next to one of my bare face. When did he even have time to draw this? He’s barely even here.

I stare at it for a long time, trying to decipher what it is he’s captured in it. My mouth is pressed into a determined line, yet something in my eyes is sorrowful. I close the book and carefully return it to its place in his drawer, not wanting him to know I’ve discovered it.

Peering around the room, my eyes close in on the edge of a book shoved under his mattress. Has to be important…I pluck the thin book out and almost drop it when I get an eyeful of the colorful illustrations. Naked women and men in all sorts of positions. I quickly shove the book back to its place under his mattress, face flushing furiously and walk away, only getting a few feet before my curiosity gets the better of me and I stop and turn back. I’ve never seen…illustrations like this.

I’ve heard many things and know most of what takes place between men and women from the mouths of handmaidens. It’s not quite the same as seeing it. Once I’ve examined every page solely for the purpose of educating myself, I shove the book back in its place.

I creep back over to the chamber door and twist at the knob even though I know it’s futile. I’d love nothing more than the freedom to gallivant around the castle, discover all of its secret places.

The dāemon is undoubtedly worse today, lashing at my limbs like its as desperate to get out of me as I am to get out of these chambers. Which is odd, seeing as usually, when it releases, it tampers down for a good while. I draw a bath to smother it in hot water—a momentary distraction.

Once the water turns cold and my skin prunes, I clamber out of the tub. Hugging a towel around myself, I eye the black cloth hanging against the wall that covers the only mirror in these chambers. Mustering up the courage, I yank the cloth, exposing my toweled, scrawny and dripping form behind it.

The frame is a withered gold, intricately molded with curling vines. Even now, seeing myself casts a swift shock through me. I trail a hand over my face. My arms are still riddled with welts and bumps, but the paste has begun to heal them much sooner than they would otherwise. A couple of scratches decorate my forehead, probably from our tussle in the Blood Wood.

There’s a glimmer of movement, and I take a quick step back with a gasp as my hair magically dries. My hair sweeps behind my shoulders and begins to braid itself. Magic . I should retreat from its clutches. I remain enchanted however as it finishes braiding my hair, dries me, and dresses me in the same dress, seeing as it's now the only one I have, the other sacrificed for the rope.

With nothing else to entertain me, I spend a good deal of time on the balcony watching the bustling kingdom below. I’m starting to notice a pattern each morning of Magi filtering to that strange building with pipes and colored smoke at the edge of the kingdom. It's not until evening I see them filtering back out.

Is this my entire life now? Trapped in these chambers? I weigh my options. I have exactly… none . I am completely at his mercy, and even if he’s not the child murderer I thought he was…I detest that. My anger soars until the dāemon is a ball of lightning under my skin. I pace the chambers to tolerate the icy shocks.

He doesn’t return by the time my dinner plate arrives nor when the chambers grow dim with the setting sun. He can’t expect me to live like this. When I finally hear the sound of his boots thumping down the hallway, I’m close to exploding. He must see some of the savagery emanating in my eyes because he moves cautiously—looking like he’s stepped into the cage of a wild animal as he carefully closes the door behind him.

“You might as well have let that Bonewalker eat me,” I snap, throwing up my hands.

He blows out a breath as he unclasps his cloak from his neck and sets it on the table. His eyes are so shaded they appear bruised again. I can’t bring myself to summon up even a twinge of sympathy. He thinks he’s worse than anything I’ve imagined. Well, so am I. I’ll make his life a living hell. “You can’t keep me locked up in here! I’ll go-- fucking mad!”

“There’s no other option.”

“Why?” I’m nearly shouting, and he winces.

“I told you it’s not safe for you here.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“No, you won’t,” he says firmly.

“This prison,” I spit, gesturing wildly to the room around me. “Is even smaller than the one I came from.” The dāemon beats at me, and I can tell it’s about to burst free. I pick up a book from the coffee table in preparation. “What am I supposed to do? You have three fucking books, and I can’t read a single one of them.” The dāemon expels, shattering one of the vials on his shelf, and I hurriedly lodge the book in the same direction to cover it.

There’s no suspicion on his face. He remains calm and composed as he turns to eye the shattered vial, and that only serves to anger me further. I breathe heavily as the lingering shocks of the dāemon begin to dwindle.

He stalks forward and I fight the urge to move back as he settles himself directly over me, quirking a brow. “I asked you if there was anything you required.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on sticking around when you asked that.”

“Well, I didn’t know you could read,” he says with a shrug.

My glare turns venomous, and he grins. “Come pet.” He jerks his head, beckoning me to follow him.

“I’m not your pet,” I snarl.

He turns around slowly, a gleam in his eye that makes me want to run away or hide. “Aren’t you, though? You live here now, in my chambers. I have to make sure you’re safe, fed, healthy, entertained. That you don’t run off and get yourself hurt or killed. Actually—“ He rubs a hand over his chin and wrinkles his nose. “You’re more like a wild animal that I’m attempting to tame into a proper pet. But I think pet is the nicer way of saying that.”

The dāemon pounds again, and I grit my teeth. “I’ll never be your pet,” I hiss.

His lips twist into a feral grin. “Oh, you will. You’ll be following me around like a puppy, eagerly waiting for my return, so desperate for whatever scraps of attention I give you, I’ll have you eating from my hand in no time.”

“Unless, of course, an illness befalls me?”

His eyes grow hard, wicked amusement slipping away. “Like I said it’s not safe for you here.”

Obviously . “What’s the gown for?”

He lets out a bedraggled sigh, raising his hand to rub at his darkened eyes. “For our wedding.”

“We already had a wedding.”

“This will be an after party of sorts so Morin can flaunt what she’s done to me to all the other kingdoms.”

“When?”

“Friday.”

My stomach turns. That’s only a few days away. “Were you even going to tell me about it?”

“Actually, we should talk about this,” he resigns, slamming the door shut. My body tenses as he stalks back over to me. “When the time comes, I need you to listen to me.” Every fiber of my being rebels against those words, upper lip curling, and teeth gritting. He takes my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, bending until our faces are level. “See this. This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t act like this out there.”

I jerk my face from his grip and he lets his hand fall as he straightens. “When we go to this party, this glorified shit show for Morin to create controversy by marrying me to a fucking nought.” He spits the words so fervently I flinch. “So she can ally with your kingdom for her God's-forsaken torture prison.”

Prison?

He circles me, counting each point against his fingers. “And do one of her favorite things, taunt me, bring shame to my family name, and ensure I’m so far thwarted I’ll never be able to rise from the ashes and stake a claim.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like I’ve ever wanted that.”

I work down a swallow, eyes burning as the dāemon begins thrashing again.

“All of which is likely nothing but a distraction from whatever the fuck she’s really planning.” He comes to a still in front of me. “You,” he says jabbing a single finger into the top of my chest.

“Have to keep your head down, your chin down,” he snaps, tapping a finger against my jutting chin. “And behave. Let go of your pride, follow my lead, and trust me because they will look for any reason to take you down. The smallest sign of disrespect to them and they will use any excuse to…” He breaks off, eyes widening.

“I’ve seen how this plays out. But you’re not going to give them a reason because you’re going to be a perfect little pet ,” he spits. He takes several breaths in and his voice softens a fraction as he says, “In here, you can fight me tooth and nail every damn day but not out there. Not around other people. There’s a reason I keep you locked up in here. This place is a danger to you and it always will be.”

The dāemon boils under the surface. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” he sighs, fury finally settling with a sag of his shoulders.

“Or is it because you don’t want your punishment being seen?”

“That’s not it,” he says adamantly. “I am trying to protect you.”

Teach her some manners, Nightshade.

I look off, unconvinced.

“Come on,” he snaps, retreating back toward the door.

I don’t move. I barely even breathe, my mind a raging war. I desperately want to get out of these chambers. I also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He opens the door and turns to see me still planted there.

He draws his fingers into position, and my feet start to slide forward, weight shifting back on my heels. The friction of the floor burns against my soles. I’m pretty sure I’d topple over with the force of it if it weren’t for his magic impelling me to remain upright. I stop just a few inches short of hitting him, thrown off balance and stumbling slightly as the magic lets off. “I can do this the whole way.”