Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MORGANA
A ster, again, awaited me patiently near an alcove that overlooked the kingdom.
I was left uncuffed, unbothered, and was even given a second helping of food upon request. It wasn’t poisoned—and if it was, it hadn’t killed me yet. I eyed the crown prince’s stiff posture as he stared out the open window. The breeze was salty, sticking to my skin as I stood, silent and still, behind him.
I could kill the heir to the throne, if I so pleased.
There was no one stopping me.
Untapped energy brewed within me, pins and needles pricking the tips of my fingers no matter how many times I flexed them straight. I looked down at my hands and saw darkness coloring my skin, as if I was rotting away from the inside. I wanted to scream, perhaps pass out and wake up back home with nothing but a headache and night sweats greeting me, but my reality was far crueler than that.
My body shook as I held my hand in front of my face, twisting it around like it wasn’t my own skin decaying. Wispy shadows flaked off, disintegrating into the air.
Blurring into focus, Aster had glided in front of me like the ghoul he was. I gasped and jumped back, but he grabbed my wrist and forced my palm to the sky. “If you do not stop letting your anger consume you, little dove, you will lose everything.”
My jaw dropped, anger clawing deeper in my chest. He bit the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off so his hand was exposed to me. My eyes followed each swirl of raven shadows that inked his skin like paintings of doom. He was a bad omen, set to destroy me and everything I’d come to love, and as his finger danced across my palm, I squeezed my eyes shut to accept this fate.
Bone-chilling cold followed the ghost of his touch. The edge of his short nail dragged against the lines in my skin, both tickling and stinging me like an insect finding the perfect place to burrow deep. Within seconds, a wave of euphoric bliss trailed his every move, and when I knew I wasn’t about to drop dead, I opened my eyes.
Darkness bled from his fingertip, dipping into my skin like birds breaching the water. His magic lingered over the decay consuming my skin, and within seconds the death vanished.
He let go of my wrist with a yank, and that bliss slapped me in the face, replaced with that bone-chilling cold and salty, sticky air.
In a swift motion, he slipped the leather glove over his fingers once more and returned to the alcove that overlooked the shrouded sea. I tried to peer past his shoulders but saw nothing more than the darkness that slowly consumed our world. Every few moments, stars would sparkle inside the infinite void, but nothing else could be seen.
“You are to bathe,” he said quietly, “and change into the clothes hanging in the wardrobe.”
I thought about barking back at him, demanding more information, but my words were swallowed. The euphoria came and went—I was worthy of only a taste. I flicked my eyes down the corridor ahead of him, a soft breeze shifting beyond me. I followed it quietly, watching the shadows hugging the walls dance after me.
I paused, glancing down at the one cast by my body. It was still for a moment, but then it ventured further down the breezeway and guided me to the bath and wardrobe that patiently awaited me. I was a mess of panic and curious intrigue, but as I raced after it, I noticed a cloud of umbra magic mist over me in hot pursuit.
When the wind shut the door after me, the darkness collapsed. My rogue shadow faded. Steam lifted from the wooden bathtub, and when I opened the wardrobe, I stared at the regalia fit for a commanding officer, the fabrics shifting with the draft.
Every shadow here was a threat—but nothing burned more than the curiosity of what they could witness. What stories they could tell. I backed away from the open wardrobe and approached the bathtub.
I toyed with my neckline, turning my gaze to the shadows cast along the walls. The candles and lantern’s flame danced across the shrouds, but something about the way the darkness shifted against stark light made me pause.
The stories these shadows could tell.
The things they would witness.
He is watching, the irritating little voice whistled in my head. His shadows are his eyes ? —
No. That wasn’t possible. I shook away the fear and untied the string that closed the neckline. I’d almost slipped the blouse off my shoulders, but when a breeze flitted through the window, one of the shadows speckled off into the air like ash and ember.
Fear engulfed me, but nothing compared to the rage. With my teeth bared, I cursed at the darkness and took off my shoes. I was losing my mind, but I wasn’t about to give him the benefit of a show. If he was watching me, he’d get no such reward.
So I slipped into the bathtub, fully clothed, and let the heavy fabric stick to my skin. I rolled up my sleeves, using the provided lavender soap to clean whatever part of my body I could get to with my clothes still on.
My face was red-hot and my ears rang, but I couldn’t help but laugh. In defeat, in disgust, and most of all, in despair. The end of my pant legs flopped against the stone floor when I stepped out of the bath. I gritted my teeth before moving over and into the wardrobe, slammed the doors shut, and hoped his eyes did not own the darkness around me as I slipped out of my wet clothes and into the regalia provided to me.