Chapter 14
Belle
My new rooms were a world away from my frigid, windswept cell in the dungeon tower.
Yet I didn’t sleep well. The hearth glowed warmly, and I melted into the mattress, but the room was too alien, too grand to let me forget where I was.
I woke at every sound—the crackling of the fire, the ticking of the clock, the subtle groans and settling of the castle, as if the walls themselves were watching.
Around midnight, the sounds of faint music and laughter drifted through my window.
Somewhere, the king and his court were celebrating, while the people they ruled over lived in terror.
I could imagine him, captivating and graceful, surrounded by sycophants and basking in his own cruelty.
I slammed the window casements shut and drew the curtains, yet the music carried on through the stone—a low thrum I couldn’t escape or stop listening to.
I dropped into bed and pulled the comforter over my head, forcing myself to imagine the roof of the castle crashing down on the wretchedly handsome king and all his court.
Footsteps echoed on the wooden floorboards.
I bolted upright, heart racing, and squinted against the morning sunlight streaming past the edges of my poorly drawn curtains.
Loreli stood at the entrance to my bedroom with a tray piled with steaming biscuits and jam. “I’m sorry, Lady Belle.”
Apparently, I’d slept. “What time is it?”
“Late. I checked in earlier, but you were sleeping soundly, so I left.”
I swung out of bed and gingerly placed a little weight on my bandaged feet.
They stung, but the salve Loreli had applied yesterday had done wonders to the blisters.
I hobbled forward and splashed water on my face from the basin.
“I don’t remember sleeping soundly. There was music playing all night. A ball?”
Loreli released a clipped laugh and set my breakfast on the table. “Our king isn’t the type to host balls.”
“Then what was it?” I grabbed a biscuit and slathered it with jam, then devoured it where I stood with no regard to manners, savoring the buttery warmth and tangy sweetness of blackberry. In my defense, my stomach was still making up for lost meals.
Loreli knelt by the hearth, feeding the smoldering fire, and coaxing new flames up from the embers. “The staff call them revels. Extravagant parties with drinking and music and—” Her cheeks reddened. “A broad range of activities.”
I stopped chewing and narrowed my eyes at her. “What do the bloodsuckers call them?”
Loreli didn’t look up from her work. “Blood feasts.”
The biscuit turned dry in my mouth, and my appetite vanished.
Back home, the ceilings of Silverthorn Castle were decorated with scenes of vast orgies—debauched affairs where immortals drank deeply of their human chattel.
Those practices had been abandoned long ago in the Bloodvale, but apparently, not here.
I read the expression on her face. Servants like her were probably prey, hunted in the halls by the king and the lecherous lords and ladies of his court.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It must be awful working here. For him.”
She sat back, the fire glowing brightly. “He’s terrifying—even the nobles fear him. He stalks the halls like a wolf, and even the oldest of the immortals shy away from him when he’s in one of his moods. But he’s also fair.”
I almost laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. The courtesans and blood retainers earn enough to travel and see distant lands, and most of the household staff are able to leave his service before they’re old and still provide for their families. It’s better wages than you can find anywhere outside of Eradessa.”
Were we talking about the same king?
I frowned. “Then you chose to work here? He didn’t…take you?”
She smiled softly and drew the curtains. “Yes, I sought employment here three years ago.”
Three years was a long time.
“Are you from Harrowick?” I asked.
“No, I grew up in Dunnmire, one of the other three villages in the king’s domain. It’s small compared to Fellspire and its town.” She made her way back to me, a glint in her eye. “I’m saving up to travel. I want to see the world.”
“I did too, once,” I said, exhaling softly. “I might be regretting that now.”
“I can imagine.”
There was something almost like pity pulling at the corner of her smile. She glanced at the barely touched plate of biscuits, then grabbed a brush inlaid with pearl shell. “Why don’t I do your hair? It could use a little work.”
It always did.
My first instinct was to refuse the help, but I didn’t want her to leave. Something about her made me forget that I was a prisoner, trapped and on my own.
Besides, if I could keep her talking, I might learn something more about the king.
Nodding, I sat at the little table before the mirror. “That would be lovely.”
I watched her reflection as she worked. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks had a joyful flush that gave her the look of youth. The terrified woman I’d first met in the hall was gone, replaced by someone who was confident and competent.
My hair was an unruly disaster after tossing and turning all night, and Loreli’s expression became intensely focused as she brushed my hair. Soon the strokes felt silken, and her rhythm became steady. I closed my eyes, savoring the normalcy of it.
I used to brush Ella’s hair like this every day, a hundred strokes.
“I could almost forget where I am,” I said, breathing out slowly.
Loreli paused, and when I looked up, her smile had vanished, replaced by a tightly drawn frown. She hesitated, then began brushing again, though the hair no longer needed it. “How can he keep you here against your will? You’re a high lady. The sister of a queen.”
“Because I killed one of his beasts.”
Her hands froze mid-stroke. “You killed one of the beasts?”
The memory sent a cold chill through me. The bodies, the terror of being hunted through the woods at night—“It was a lucky shot.”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” Loreli said, her voice hushed with what was almost reverence. “Harming the beasts is punishable by death.”
“So I’ve discovered.” I closed my eyes and thanked the Fates I’d made it to the castle before the bastard had executed Marcel.
I focused on the rhythmic swish of her brush, pulling through my hair.
“What do you know about the beasts?” I asked at last.
“Little,” she said as she began braiding a section of hair from my temple.
“I’ve only seen them a few times, lurking at the edges of the forest or the perimeter of the castle.
We all live in fear of them, though they never enter the village.
We’re not even allowed to build a wall—I guess as proof of his command over the creatures. ”
“The king seems to hold more affection for the beasts than he does for humans.”
“Perhaps that’s not far from the truth. It’s said that they’re his hounds, and that they hunt before his dragon, flushing out prey for it to eat.
” She pulled the intricate plait tight as she pinned it in place, leaving the rest of my hair to fall over my shoulders, then stepped back to admire her work.
I pushed the disturbing thought aside and ran my fingers along the braid. It had been years since I’d worn my hair like this. It felt like a shield, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this place.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I feel a little human again.”
“Of course, Lady Belle.”
I turned to face her. “Do you know where the beasts come from?”
Her posture grew tight, the doubt in her eyes betraying the presence of long-buried fear.
“No one really knows. My grandfather used to say that they crawled up from the depths of hell through cracks in the earth. Others say the king creates them himself, that they are lords who defied him, transformed into monsters by magic, and bound to his service.”
My breath stilled. “Does the king possess magic?”
Surely that was the only way that he could create the beasts, but I’d never heard of immortals with magic. Then again, what did I really know? Until months ago, I’d thought magic existed only in children’s fairytales.
Loreli’s eyes darted around the room with unease. “They say he is one with the curse. That either he created it, or it created him. That he’s not even a bloodsucker, but something more, summoned from the darkness.”
What had I gotten myself into?