Chapter 11
Belle
I cracked my eyes open, greeting the early morning light with a shiver. I curled my arms around me, but there was no way to avoid the cold seeping up from the stone or the chill of the air.
I gave up on sleep and sat upright, wincing at the tingles that shot through my feet and legs.
The king had claimed he was going to feed me to his dragon at dawn, but he hadn’t specified which dawn. A full day had passed. I’d gone hoarse from shouting, but at least the guards had brought me a stale hunk of bread yesterday evening and a bucket of water.
Another day alive was one more chance to find a way out of this disaster.
I pulled the last crust of bread from my pocket and crushed it in my mouth, then crawled to the bucket in the corner to take a drink of the frigid water. It was the only thing in the cell. There wasn’t even a bench or chamber pot, and I’d had to relieve myself in the far corner.
Apparently, they didn’t expect people to stay here long.
I shoved myself to my blistered feet, then staggered numbly to the open side of the cell, staring out over the castle and courtyard below.
Did prisoners ever jump? Or was this some twisted form of mental torture? Perhaps it was open to let the dragon reach in for a bite.
How much did a dragon even eat? Would I be a meal or a snack?
Enough. I dragged my hands through my hair, needing the endless parade of questions to stop.
I sucked in a deep breath and focused on the soft blue shadows that hung over the face of the mountain.
I could still make out the entrance to the dragon’s cave high on the slope.
I’d watched the entrance all day yesterday, then was finally rewarded for my vigilance when the beast flew out with a bloodcurdling roar.
Had it returned in the night, or was it waiting somewhere in the peaks for the king to serve me up for breakfast?
Would it kill me quickly, or would it chase and torment me like it had in the clearing?
I could almost feel the heat of its breath on my skin again, the way it had dragged its nose along my side. It could have ended me in a second.
Shuddering, I turned away from the opening. That was not how I was going to die.
Living, however, required making the king see reason, and from what I’d witnessed, there’d be little chance of that.
One second, he was as cold and emotionless as iron, the next, in a rage.
From everything I’d heard and seen, he was a wicked tyrant, and I loathed every inch of him.
I hated how his gravelly voice carried my name like a promise and a threat.
How his lethal beauty had stolen my voice.
No.
The things I’d felt—they’d been a momentary lapse. I was frozen. I’d nearly died and was out of my mind with exhaustion. That’s all it was, nothing more.
Footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase.
I stilled, my focus sharpening as my senses prickled with warning. I pressed my back against the wall, listening to each step, the rattle of weapons and the brush of leather armor. Were they bringing me food or taking me to be devoured?
Whatever happened, I wouldn’t let them see my terror.
A figure crested the top of the stairs, and I froze, barely able to draw a breath.
It was the king.
Prickles spread over my skin like warning bells—the same ones I’d felt the other night. My palms grew damp, and I moved as far from the door as possible, preparing to fight for my life.
The corner of the king’s lips curved almost imperceptibly. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, all muscle and shadow, every inch of him exuding restrained power and dominance. His gaze held me, his hazel eyes unraveling me until all that remained was my fear. “Look over the edge.”
I clasped my hands to keep them from trembling. I knew he could hear my racing heart, smell my terror. But I wouldn’t show it. I refused.
“The edge, Lady Marquette.”
I shuffled forward until I was standing before the sheer drop, the cold wind buffeting my face. Was I strong enough to hurl him over the precipice? I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering under my ribs.
“What do you see?” The king’s voice curled around me, closer than it had been moments ago.
I swallowed, not needing to open my eyes. The view had been burned into my mind. “A mountain with a cave. A courtyard with a pillar.”
“The first is where my dragon dwells. The second is where I’ll chain you if you lie to me.” His words were low and unbearably close, almost a whisper tickling over my skin. “It would be a shame to condemn such an interesting specimen to the dragon’s wrath, but don’t think that will stop me.”
My eyes fluttered open as my knees trembled, the world swaying. I didn’t know if it was vertigo or the king’s presence.
His hand clamped around my arm, and fire arced under his touch as he pulled me back from the edge, as if he didn’t trust me not to plunge over it.
“Until then, your life is mine. Be careful with it,” he growled, releasing me.
The cold of the cell returned with the breeze. Turning toward him, I hugged my chest, furious at myself for craving his warmth. “Free my companions, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”
His eyebrows twitched with surprise, irritation etching his jaw. “You’re in no position to make demands.”
Don’t be prey.
I straightened my back and raised my chin, trying to feign courage I didn’t possess. “Neither man violated your laws. Release them.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“No. I’m just pointing out the fault in your reasoning. They’re innocent. So set them free.”
I didn’t know where this boldness came from. This male terrified me, yet I found everything about him infuriating to the point that I lost my better judgment.
His expression darkened, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “Who is the man? The coward who ran away and left you to die. Your husband?”
Oh, gods, was he talking about Gregoire?
“He’s a huntsman we hired to lead our caravan. There’s not a man in this world I’d trust enough to wed.”
Something akin to amusement danced in the hazel eyes behind the mask. “Unlucky is the man who pricks his finger upon your thorns.”
I glared up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re difficult,” he all but growled. “And the old man, is he your father?”
Fates, why did he care who they were?
“My father is dead,” I said. “The old man is a friend with a wife and children who need him.”
“I will free one of them.”
“That’s unfair—”
“Choose. Or it’s none.”
Outrage and despair choked off my words. How could I choose? How could he ask me to?
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll feed them both to my dragon tonight.”
“The old man,” I blurted. “Free him.”
The barest hint of a gloating smile spread over his lips, no doubt because of how easily he could manipulate me with my companions’ lives hanging in the balance.
My stomach curled with disgust and hatred—for him, and just as fiercely, with myself.
Hatred for choosing, for playing his sick game, and for condemning Gregoire to gods only knew what.
The king angled his head, his gaze unrelenting and scrutinizing. “Tell me about your queen.”
Panic crept under my ribs. “I told you. She overthrew the mages that ruled our land and married the prince.”
“And your relationship to her?” This time, his voice was low and as sharp as a knife.
My breath grew shallow. If the king learned who I was, he could use me against Cassius and Ella in the petty immortal games of power that had entangled our lands for centuries.
“She’s the queen,” I said coolly.
He slowly circled me. “Think carefully about what you say next, Lady Marquette, as I’d hate to see lies mar those pretty lips. Is the queen of the Bloodvale your sister?”
Had he interrogated Marcel and Gregoire? Had he hurt them?
“I…how?”
“Your eyes are the same,” the king murmured from behind, his voice velvet touched with steel. “Though yours are more beautiful, like amethyst sparkling in the moonlight.”
My eyes?
For a second, my mind was blank. Then the implications sank in, and I turned on him. “How do you know what my sister’s eyes look like? Two nights ago, you didn’t even believe she existed.”
“I have ways of seeing things others can’t, princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” I shot back, almost out of instinct.
“You’re the sister of a queen,” he purred. “And now, you’re going to tell me everything about her: her magic, how she came to be queen, how she overthrew the mages. Everything.”
This man was the king of the beasts and likely the source of the curse. No doubt he’d use anything I told him against Ella and Cassius, but if I gave him nothing, he’d surely have me killed.
Marcel and Gregoire had probably told him everything they knew. Stick to what they know, and that alone.
I moistened my lips, and the king tracked the movement, his eyes dilating. “We grew up on a farm. My sister was working in the castle when her magic manifested. When she killed the mages, she broke the spell they’d cast over our kingdom that repressed magic.”
He scoffed, and I recognized the cruel disdain in the way he looked down at me—like most bloodsuckers would. “I find it very hard to believe that a servant girl could do anything of the sort.”
“That’s because you don’t know Ella,” I said pointedly. “It might be wise to avoid crossing her.”
The king bared his fangs. “Cross her in what way? By feeding her sister to a dragon?”
Don’t show your fear.
I met his gaze, unwavering. “That would be a bad start.”
His jaw ticked again, his irritation clear. “And what of her magic?”
“She’s a whisperer. She commands the woods and its creatures. I imagine she’d have some suggestions for your dragon if the two of you ever met.”
The corner of the king’s lips curled up with dark amusement. “My dragon has a mind of his own, and I doubt your sister’s whispers would work on him, no matter how powerful she is. But perhaps I should kill you and your companions so she never learns you are here.”
I stiffened. “You can’t do that. I’ll—”
He stalked toward me, his body consuming the space between us until my back hit the cold stone wall. “You’re not in a position to make threats, princess.” The gold in his eyes sparkled in the cresting light, and a flicker of recognition rose. “Tell me, are you like your sister?”
I inhaled sharply, wishing I could melt into the wall. “I’m not. I have no magic.”
“Remember the cost of lying to me.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes. “I’m not lying. Ella has the gift. I’m just her sister.”
He paused, considering.
“What do you think?” the king finally asked, but the question wasn’t directed at me.
An unfamiliar voice answered, “If she had magic, I imagine it would have manifested by now. I would have felt something—a trace of a signature, a hint of her aura.”
I looked over the king’s shoulder in surprise.
Another man stood beyond the bars of my cage in the shadows of the stairs.
While he didn’t have the unearthly beauty of the immortals, he was handsome in his own right, with waves of dark hair and ice-blue eyes that were as enchanting as they were ruthless.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“The king’s hand and high magister.” A wisp of green light curled around his fingers, like smoke in the breeze.
“You have magic,” I whispered.
He grinned. “What better way to determine if you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing?”
“And is she?” The king’s gaze was still locked on me, burning me from the inside out.
“Her companions didn’t attest to her having any skills, and everything she’s said matches their confessions.” The delight in the way the word slipped from his lips sent a cold shiver down my spine, and the walls of the cell suddenly felt closer.
Marcel and Gregoire were probably dead, and I was next.
The king’s gaze remained on me, a relentless glare, as if he were cataloging every fault and flaw I possessed. “Wouldn’t power run in their line?”
“Sometimes, the gift skips a sibling and manifests twice as strongly in the other,” the magister said as he moved to join the king. “That could explain how her sister had the strength to break the mages’ spell. She received an inheritance of power, while this one…” He shrugged. “Is giftless.”
I glared at him, wishing I had my bow.
When the king didn’t speak, the magister asked, “What do you intend to do with her?”
“Put her in the suite at the end of the royal wing. For now, she will remain my guest.”
“Guest?” A ray of hope stuttered to life. “You mean to let me go?”
“I will never let you go.” The low rumble of his voice filled the cell. Imperious. Possessive. Almost covetous.
Cold seeped into my veins.
He turned to his magister. “Put a lock on the door to her room. No one sees her or talks to her without my permission.”
I was powerless and trapped. Misery tightened around my heart, and beneath it, an anger I could almost feel shaking through the tower. I knotted my fists, helpless to fight, helpless to defend. “How is being your guest any different than being your prisoner?”
A cruel smile tugged at the king’s lips. “The difference is a razor-thin line called obedience. Cross it, and you’ll end up back in the dungeon or in the belly of my dragon.”
“What of my companions?”
He grunted, something close to disdain. “I’ll release the old man and send him on his way. The other stays in my dungeon as insurance.”
My breath hitched. “Insurance for what?”
“Your good behavior.” He crossed to the door, pausing beside me so that only a finger’s width separated us. “If you try to flee or cross me in any way, princess, the huntsman dies.”