Chapter 35
IZADELLA
Once we return to that dreary castle, I am escorted up a steep flight of stairs, past open, beautifully carved, black marble doors—one of the few things not made of iron—and shoved through them.
The bedroom furniture is all a deep crimson that would fit more in the Court of Swords than this awful place.
The curtains are well made and hang beside large windows on the far end of the bedroom, overlooking the midnight blue sea.
Overgrown plants take up each corner, and the iron walls have been covered with tapestries depicting faraway places.
Pillows of all shapes and colors cover a high bed.
A cheery fire brings a wave of warmth that caresses my frozen skin. Relieved tears spring to my eyes.
Gowns worthy of a princess hang in an open armoire. A few handmaidens come out of the bathing chamber; fragrant oils added to the bath drifting out. Three walk beside each other, leaving empty buckets still steaming.
An older woman with short gray hair, pale skin, and a kind smile steps before me in dark clothing. “My lady, my name is Vera. King Grayden has instructed us to prepare you for dinner.”
Two lady’s maids behind her hold gilded hairbrushes and the small pots of pigment meant to enhance beauty.
I roll my eyes. “May I guess? He will have me painted like a doll for dinner so I can hear what an absolute honor it is to be his bride, or he will kill everyone I care for in the fucking kingdom. Am I missing anything?”
She looks alarmed and shakes her head. “I was just instructed to prepare you for dinner.”
“What’s his least favorite color?”
“My—my lady, that I don’t know.”
“Fine, find me the ugliest gown in this damn castle.”
She shrinks into herself. “He has already selected the gown.”
Bastard.
“Well, I’m so very glad he could carve out some time in his busy schedule of terrorizing his kingdom to have an opinion of the dress I wear. Let me speculate: it’s very revealing, isn’t it?”
She purses her lips together apologetically.
I take a deep breath and head to the bathroom door. None of this is their fault, they are just trying to survive here, as I am.
After stripping off torn clothing, I dunk myself under the blissfully warm water. If they wonder about the streaks of gold tainting my skin and indicating my imminent death, they hold their tongue. They rub me down with oils and someone brushes my hair. The women all stare at the crown.
“You can touch it if you like,” I say.
They all lower their heads at the same time.
“This isn’t a trick. It only reacts to someone with magic or if someone is trying to hurt me.”
The youngest one, who looks to be around seventeen, slowly reaches out and touches it with a single finger. “How can you wear it if you are a woman?”
Vera hisses at her, “Hazel, do not ask such questions!”
Hazel lowers her eyes again, but I am quick to pat Hazel’s hand.
“Cause the Fasaile line is full of liars. Remember, the first wearer was a queen. It was made for a fae woman, by a fae woman. Male heirs to a false line hold no power with this crown. Anyone can wear it, but only the fae can access its magic.”
“And you have some?” another woman asks carefully, eyeing my ears.
“Well, not with this on.” I motion to the collar. “But yes. I’m part fae. Magic is real.”
“So, you are queen now? You wear the crown?” Hazel asks with so much hope it tears at me.
“It seems so but there is not much I can do to help anyone.” These women here must have been Erenia’s lady’s maids. “Where is Queen Erenia? Are these her chambers?”
“Yes, it is, but she disappeared. Many people did.” Vera offers no further explanation.
Did Grayden have them all killed? My stomach plummets at the thought. Where could they have gone?
Where is Cyanna? What if she is hurt?
My dark thoughts haunt me while they dress me in a tight red gown that flares out at the bottom.
It’s sleeveless and low-cut. My breasts are pushed up with a bone-crushing corset. The golden cracks are spreading, crawling up my chest to my neck. Everett will immediately know what is happening to me.
He will be in quite the celebratory mood when he tells Grayden the gold on my skin means my ending is truly inevitable.
The crown is all but Everett’s.
My death will be a kindness. Maybe I ought to thank Leon. He may have broken my heart, but in the end, it will spare me the horrors of being Grayden’s plaything. His captive. A wife in name only.
Not Leon’s wife. Grayden’s.
I need to stay strong, so I push back against the suffocating misery that threatens to drown me. Weeping will not help me, so I allow numbness to spread like wine spilling from a goblet, swallowing me whole.
Vera mournfully places silver cuffs on my wrists with a strong chain attached to the collar. Too glamorous to be for prisoners, it must have been made for me, as the tops even have some diamonds placed on them.
Chains meant for an obstinate queen.
My hair hangs loosely down my back under the crown that is on full display for the first time since I’ve been forced to wear it. They paint my lips red just before I’m escorted downstairs into the depths of the chilling castle.
All servants here have my despair and pity, but the royal artists deserve my condolences as well.
The walls are lined with paintings of Grayden.
Vain and vile man. Each painting is slightly different but with the same smug look on them.
On some, he’s riding a horse into an imaginary battle.
On others, he is standing in a golden room covered in fur and jewels.
He must have been commissioning these for years.
One of them shows him with Erenia at their wedding. Her melancholy is captured on canvas even on that day.
I am ushered into a long dining room decorated by even more paintings of Grayden. They hang on the walls alongside wide flags with the crest of Adreania on them. Thousands of candles light the room. The large windows show a dark sky, rain clouds hiding any stars.
At the end of the dining table, places are set for four. Grayden sits holding a full glass of wine. “You look ravishing. Shame we have to keep that collar on, but you can’t be trusted.”
Everett is on his left, dressed in the finest clothing I have ever seen him in.
His fork clatters to the table. His face shifts from shock to malice, eyes on my glinting chest. “Enervation scars? He really did break your heart, didn’t he?
” His laugh echoes around me as he sets down his golden chalice.
“Oh, Della, he couldn’t have possibly been worth it.
” He makes a tsking noise. “Didn’t you learn from your mother’s mistakes?
You should have let Kole have you. At least he actually liked you.
” Everett smirks and no matter how much I’ve seen it since being captured, it brings fresh horror that I once called him my friend.
That he would speak of the friend he murdered so casually.
Refusing to acknowledge Everett’s or Grayden’s comments, I start piling food on my plate. “I would like some wine.”
“Well, of course.” Grayden snaps for a servant, who pours the ruby-red liquid into my glass, but I grab his instead and start to drink it. At least I know it’s not poisoned. He smiles at me cruelly while drinking the new glass. “You are going to make such a beautiful bride.”
“And you will make a dishonorable husband.”
He slams his knife down, causing me to jump in my seat.
He has embedded the blade in the table, half an inch from my hand.
“You will show me respect. Everett’s little experiment with the drowning showed that the crown has some protections for you, so as much fun as we could have… ” He reaches over and rubs up my thigh.
I force myself not to move. It is no doubt not the reaction he desires, so I don’t give it to him.
“…I won’t take my chances.”
Through gritted teeth, I calmly say, “You will remove your hand from me, and you will not touch me again.”
He digs his fingernails into my skin, marking it. “You and I are going to be married very soon. Once we are, you will be locked in your chambers and you will grow crops and poison as often as I say.”
“I’m not a summer market.”
“Oh, but you grew these?” He points to the glass bowl in front of him and leans in close. “What are these?”
The fruit gleams, dark and juicy, like the ones growing in Nueena’s garden.
“They are blackberries,” I say flatly.
He stands next to me, moving the hair off my shoulder and I force myself not to recoil at the touch. “Are they edible?”
I debate for a moment if it’s worth lying about. “Yes.”
“Eat one. How do I know it’s not poisonous?”
“It is not, and I do not want one.”
He grabs a handful of the fruit. Before I can move, his other hand takes hold of my hair.
Everett’s eyes go wide as Grayden pulls my head back with a violent jerk and he tries to shove the fruit down my throat as he did at the last bazaar with the navlue fruit.
This time, though, the crown’s magic roars at the offense.
With the collar, all it can do is send a sharp jolt of electricity through his hand, but it is enough for him to release me. Fuck him.
He cradles his hand to his chest. “You bitch!”
Everett chastises him like he would a dewling. “I’ve already told you the crown responds to her emotions and will not allow anyone else to touch her.”
I pop another berry so he will not attempt to harm me again, a headache starting. The berries are sweet and harmless. When I do not descend face-first into my soup, he eats a handful, chewing slowly.
“Interesting,” he says, flexing his wounded hand.
I gulp down more wine, not wishing to be sober for this meal. I must find a way to escape this nightmare. I need to get back to Ellova, to Nueena, and maybe find Leon and let him explain.