37. Encounter with a Psychopath
37
ENCOUNTER WITH A PSYCHOPATH
L uella’s eyes shot open.
Disorientation rocked her bones, and she took a moment to get her bearings, tired eyes squinting in the darkness.
When she remembered where she was, Luella’s legs scrambled against the stone as she stretched her numb legs out in front of her.
She fumbled in the dark for the chamberstick, her hand hitting the stone before she touched the cool metal. Gripping the bottom, she stood slowly and quietly, with a hand pressed to her mouth to hold back the sound of her breathing.
Her ears strained, but all she heard was the steady drip of water as it cascaded into the pools, the slight ripple as it hit the surface, and the faintest sound of the wind howling in the night.
Luella poked her head from between two cracks in the shelves. It was still and dark in the small maze leading to her hidden alcove. Dare she risk leaving?
She weighed the Compendium of Fates in her hand.
It would be better to leave it. She didn’t want anyone to find it. Especially if she happened to be discovered.
Decision made, Luella walked to the wall where she had found the book and knelt on the ground. In the thick blanket of darkness, it was hard to find the exact stone it had been wedged behind, so she skimmed her hands along the lower parts of the wall, fingers searching along dips and grooves in the damp stone before she found a hollow.
The back of her neck prickled as her attention was turned away from the shelf that hid the tunnel entrance. In a sudden rush of fear, her head whipped to the side, sure she would find shadowed figures looming behind her, but there was nothing, as far as she could tell in the dark—that thought was not comforting.
Placing the book back inside the hole, Luella stood. She didn’t even bother trying to find the stone that had covered it. It had been flung somewhere after she and Nyx had unwedged it. No telling where it had found a resting place. The cover and tangle of the maze of shelves would have to be enough to keep it tucked away.
She brushed dust away from her knees and tiptoed back the way she had come. Unlit chamberstick in one hand, Luella wrapped her cloak around her tighter to ward off the sudden chill seeping through the darkness. The air grew tangy with mist and the scent of rain, and she tried to ignore how dark it was—how the entryway to the caves was right here in this alcove, and she was utterly alone.
Goosebumps skittered along the exposed parts of her skin, and Luella hurried to leave, shoulders curving inward as she made herself smaller to fit between the two shelves.
A long breath fell from her lips, sounding way too loud in the hushed maze.
She was free. Almost.
Luella would just have to make it back through the halls of shelves and then to her room. All without being discovered.
She bit her lip.
Should be easy… Right?
So long as she didn’t run into King Vale or the others.
Quiet as a whisper, she balanced on her tiptoes, thankful she had decided to go without slippers. She was used to being barefoot, could control her steps, and easily silence her footfalls.
Luella was reminded of her play-pretend adventures, walking through ruins or the gardens around the castle in Solis and pretending to be a spy sent to kill some unnamed enemy. With a renewed vigor, her steps become less hesitant, her posture more lithe.
It was a dance she had done many times before. But now, the stakes were higher. Deadly.
Just as she rounded the last collection of shelves that would open to the main area of the library, Luella pressed her back flush to the wall, her chest rising and falling quickly with adrenaline.
She peered around the corner, thankfully, the moonlight filtering through the dome of glass offered plenty of light for her to see by.
It was empty.
Her shoulders slumped in relief.
Thank the gods.
With the chamberstick clutched to her chest, Luella left the safety of her hidden position and scampered across the open expanse of the room.
Without thinking and waiting any longer, she opened the door to the library and left, shutting it behind her with a faint click.
Her back rested against the closed door, head thumping against the wood and eyes closing, only for a moment, as she collected her wits and prepared for the trek back to her room.
A rush of warmth passed in front of her, and Luella grew rigid as her eyes opened.
Broad shoulders, a towering frame, and white hair that stood out starkly in the dark halls.
A quiet scream flowed past her lips, cutting off into a strangled gasp when the male advanced on her.
Luella’s back pressed further against the door to the library, and she shrunk against it as Tharen crowded into her space, coming closer and closer with a strong gate.
Before she could blink, he was upon her.
The mage pinned her to the door, hands braced on either side of her head. She cowered back, eyes squeezing shut.
A hand brushed along her cheek, and she flinched back. Tharen flipped her hood away from her face, palm settling against the base of her neck, while his other hand kept her pinned to the wall, a clenched fist lodged against the door above her head, keeping both of her hands in his grip.
"Look at me," whispered against her skin.
Luella opened her eyes.
Tharen’s icy gaze settled on hers, and somehow, the hold of his stare did more to entrap her than the weight of his body.
He searched her face, hand tightening imperceptibly against the base of her throat.
"Little lamb, little lamb, aren’t you far from your cage?" Tharen taunted with an unyielding edge to his voice.
Think, think, think , she urged herself…
This was bad. Very bad.
And had the very real possibility to become worse if she was not careful.
"I-I wanted… I wanted to read," she managed to say under the intense focus of his attention.
Tharen arched a brow. "Read?"
It was obvious he did not believe her.
He looked at her like a hunter with sights locked on prey. They were all alone in this hall. It was night. No one would come for her.
Luella trembled like a leaf, her captured hands flexing, testing the strength of his hold. His jaw pulsed, and he pulled up on her arms, making her gasp and rise to her tiptoes to relieve the strain on her arm sockets.
In memory of her dislocated shoulder, her captured limbs twinged, and she winced.
"Y-yes." Luella gulped. "I finished my book and wanted to… to find another."
She couldn’t stop trembling.
"And did you?" Tharen moved the hand against her neck up to her cheek, a finger trailing across her jaw. His head lowered, nose pressing into her neck. She shivered from his breath warming her sensitive skin. With a deep rumble, Tharen pulled back, eyes narrowing. "Find another, that is?"
Luella wished she had thought to pick up some innocuous book to use as a cover, but she was left unprepared for the mage’s line of questioning. She would only dig herself a deeper grave if she didn’t infuse a modicum of truth. Somewhat, at least.
Luella was honest. "No."
She never was a good liar. Better to spin the truth into something that would best serve her than give blatant lies and be caught with no way out.
Tharen hummed, regarding her curiously. "Is that all you have to say?"
She nodded.
The hand that held her wrists loosened, and he brought them down in front of them, held between their chests. Tharen laced his fingers between hers, locking them together in what should have been a friendly touch. Though it was anything but. From the mere act of his hand twining with hers, the mage had staked a claim unable to be shaken.
Another thing stolen from her that she should have freely given, holding hands and fleeing down moonlit halls to steal kisses from a lover in a nightly tryst.
Instead, the scene before her was a machiavellian mockery of the romance she had spun in her head. The moonlight was obscured by his broad shoulders, leaving her in a cast of shadows. The door dug into her back, and his hands burned against the bare skin of her wrists, leaving bruises from the force with which he gripped her.
It was anything but romantic. And the mage was anything but a male she desired romance with. He was too crazed, too cunning.
A cunning she knew saw right through her niceties.
That’s why Luella forced herself to turn away from her real self—the careful creature spinning words of stuttering cowardice…
With a shaky breath, she splayed the palm that had been cut on the stone against his chest, hiding it. Just so he wouldn’t notice the dried blood and ask how it was acquired.
Tharen was warm and hard, with a strength that made her knees go weak. His scent was enticing, a perfectly curated blend just for her. Ice chips melting on her tongue, the crisp, new beginning of winter, and the stark taste of freedom from the turn of seasons.
Luella wanted it. The allure, the promise. So close she could feel it brush against her fingertips.
And maybe, just maybe, she was intrigued by him. He was similar to his scent, after all. Bitterly cold and frost-bitten, with a twinge of something new underneath. Unstoppable blizzards and unique snowflakes.
From the stories she had heard the servants at her home whisper, all males grew pliant from a willing woman. And even the unwilling. Luella decided to test those hushed mumblings, stories told as her maids tended to her, thinking her an unimportant heirus. But she listened. She always did.
The sound of her breathing was loud to her own ears as she dragged her hand up to toy with the edge of his collar. The top buttons were undone, leaving a large portion of his chest bare. The tip of her pinky skimmed along his bare chest, and he groaned at her touch.
It made her feel powerful.
And in over her head.
Luella couldn’t quite meet his eyes, even as her hand continued its hesitant venture over his chest. The tiniest smear of scarlet was left on his cotton shirt, so faint, she hoped that he would miss it.
He was constantly covered in blood and dirt, as Luella had seen. What’s a little more?
All too soon, her fleeting control over their run-in was wrested as the mage took the power back from her. Tharen easily commandeered her, looming above her with a punishing grip encircling her wrists and knees lodged on either side of her thighs. She was pinned immobile against the door. Against him.
"What are you doing?" Tharen gritted out between his teeth as he stared down at her.
"I…"
He poked his tongue in his cheek, lip curving up into the beginnings of a snarl.
Maybe that hadn’t been wise.
"Answer me when I ask you a question, Princess," he ordered. "Do not make me repeat myself. What are you doing ?"
What’s another tiny truth on a mountain of lies?
"Your scent," she managed. "It calls to me."
She still could not look him in the eye.
Tharen fit his finger under her chin and forced her head up to meet his gaze.
He looked perturbed by her admittance, shy as it had been.
"Do not ever repeat those words again," he ordered. "Not if you value your life."
"What life? You mean the one I currently am a prisoner to?" Luella raised her chin indignantly, forcing his finger to fall away from her face.
Tharen growled and pulled away from her. "Go back to your cage, lamb," he all but snarled. "And make no mistake, it is a cage. Even though you’re free to roam the palace now, these halls are no different from the iron bars of the dungeon. Just prettier. All the better to distract you with."
The mage reminded Luella of a villain from a fairy tale. But if this was a fanciful fairy tale, where was her savior? Luella would have no knight to swoop in and rescue her—she had given up hope for that long ago in the dungeons. Not even Az could save her; the demon was no valiant, good-natured being, either.
She was alone.
Alone in a den of wicked and duplicitous creatures.
With that sense of being forsaken came a strength she didn’t know the origins of. Perhaps it was because she knew subconsciously that only she could save herself.
That’s why, when Luella placed both hands on Tharen’s chest and shoved , she did so with delight and force she didn’t know she was capable of.
He barely stumbled back; she was no match for him, but it was the meaning behind the action that counted.
"You’ll never break me," she hissed.
Tharen grew still and looked at her with a heated charge crackling between them like embers. He opened his mouth like he might wish to say something but closed it and shook his head.
"Go." Tharen pointed down the hall.
Luella didn’t hesitate.
Surely, she thought the mage would have punished her for her words, for fighting back. She wouldn’t look at the reasoning behind his curt dismissal for fear of what she may find.
Luella fled down the hall. A fast walk, almost a run, but not quite. She didn’t want to give Tharen the satisfaction that he unnerved her enough to force her to tuck tail and run.
Stalking her as a large, imposing force, Tharen followed, herding her back to her room—her cage.
The darkened halls passed by in a blur. Luella had one thought spinning in her mind and no room for anything else.
Must get away.
Tharen was unpredictable, and that unpredictability was terrifying.
He was silent behind her, always a few paces away. Close enough, she could almost feel him breathing down her neck, but far enough away, she was granted a false sense of autonomy—like it was her decision to leave. But they both knew it wasn’t. She was being herded like the obedient, mindless lamb he likened her to.
Luella didn’t stop until she saw the door leading to her room. A breath of relief wooshed from her lungs at the sight. The light oak door was a saving grave in a vast expanse of darkness.
She turned her head.
Tharen stood at the end of the hall behind her, back straight and feet apart, like he was readying himself to pounce.
With a wicked grin that Luella was learning donned his features more often than not, the mage slowly raised a hand. His fingers fluttered as he gave a mocking wave.
Her heart caught in her chest, and without further preamble, Luella jerked open her door and shut herself inside. The many unlit candles on the small dresser rattled from the force of the door slamming.
There was no lock. Not on the inside, at least.
She didn’t think she would sleep a wink, not with that… that beast prowling the halls.
In a fit of desperate urgency, Luella dragged the tiny stool in front of the vanity over and wedged the back of it under the handle.
There.
Hopefully, that would help.
But who was she fooling?
Luella sighed.
Certainly not herself. And most definitely not Tharen.
That flimsy stool would offer nothing but a warning. The mage could snap the wooden legs of it with one hand if he so wished.
Luella scoffed at the sorry attempt at safety, but it would have to do for now.
Taking off her cloak, she draped it over the vanity and padded to the balcony doors. She peered out into the moonlit dark of the night. Stars flecked the vast array of the sky, but their glow was broken by the faintest traces of dawn cresting the horizon.
Dawn, the bringer of new beginnings. And perhaps the harbinger of her demise.
For Tharen knew where she had been under cover of darkness, and Luella was certain he would share it with the King.
Her hands shook as she pulled back the silken sheets of her bed and crawled under the covers. Would this be her last time sleeping in such luxury?
At least in the cold, damp dungeons, she would have Az.