Chapter 18
Belle
I shoved my bedroom door closed and leaned against it, as if I could shut out the truth of my situation: I was deep in the mire and sinking fast.
Loreli rose in surprise. “Is everything okay, Lady Belle? You’re back early.”
“The king doesn’t have a court—he has a corral of ravenous sociopaths,” I exhaled. “Two of his so-called nobles cornered me in front of the entire assembly.”
Eyes rounded, she bunched up her skirts and hurried over. “And the king did nothing?”
“Oh no, he broke one of their arms and threatened to kill them both.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she pulled me away from the door. “I’m sure it was a fright, but perhaps it’s for the best. Now the court will know not to touch you.”
A bitter laugh broke from my throat. “For the best? Everyone there looked like they wanted to kill me.”
“They won’t cross the king. He has no compunction about making examples of those who defy his orders.”
“So I noticed.”
Everything about the king and his court appalled me, but what disgusted me more was that it had given me a thrill—the feel of his heat, the way he’d parried with me, and gods, his fury when he’d ripped the bloodsuckers off me.
What was wrong with me?
I reached around and fumbled with the laces of my dress. “Can you help me get this suffocating thing off?”
“Of course, my lady.”
Loreli helped me out of my dress and did her best to allay my fears, but after she’d left and the guards locked me in, I felt anything but safe.
Why hadn’t they left a lock on this side of the door?
I lay in bed, wrapped in the soft light of the crescent moon, as awake as I’d ever been in my life. I tried counting the roses embroidered on the canopy that hung over my bed. I even tried reading The Book of Courtly Manners by candlelight. Nothing worked.
Screaming into my pillow, I crushed it down on my face to blot out the nightmare, but I couldn’t shake the leering faces of the court from my mind. Cruel eyes. Malicious smiles. Blood-tinged lips hiding the hint of fangs.
I was never going to sleep again.
So, I lay in the darkness, the relentless ticking of the large clock in the corner my only company.
The sound began to grate on me. It was always slightly out of time with the faint music drifting through my window from the banquet, a fraction of a beat too fast. Tick, tick, tick.
A stumbling drummer, unable to keep time.
All my frustration and ire coalesced on the ticking of the clock until I could bear it no longer. I ripped the pillow from my face and sat up. “You’re not helping. Keep the godsdamned beat!”
For a second, the clock hesitated, hanging on a long tock. Then it began again.
I sat there, chest heaving, embarrassed. This was a new low. Lying back, I turned to my side, closing my eyes. Tick, tick, tick.
My eyes flew open, and I sat up again. The damn thing was perfectly in time. I listened to the faint music. It was a new song. The musicians had changed tempo. That’s all it was.
Perfect. I sighed. I was beginning to lose my mind.
I was living in the plushest prison on the continent, and it was already getting to me. It hadn’t even been a week. How much longer was the king going to keep me here? Till he got bored and decided to feed me to his nobles?
I crawled out of bed and plodded over to the washbasin and splashed some water on my face.
I stared at myself in the mirror, not recognizing myself under the eye paint and rouge.
This entire adventure had been madness. I didn’t have magic like my sister.
I wasn’t fast or skilled, and I couldn’t fight like Cassius.
I was little more than a farm girl, too desperate to make a difference to listen to warnings.
Instead of helping, I’d gotten my escorts killed, Marcel and Gregoire imprisoned, and I couldn’t escape without the king putting the huntsman to death.
I’d damned us all for nothing more than a handful of rumors.
Now I was the king’s pet. A plaything.
I tugged at the laces of my nightgown to loosen them. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
A click sounded from the door to my chamber.
My skin iced, and my heart rose in my throat. “Who’s there?”
No one responded.
Had someone been listening?
There was only one key, and it was in the king’s possession.
“Who’s there?” I rasped again, but the only sound was the faint music from the revel, the ticking of the clock, and the soft crackling of the embers in the fireplace.
I moved cautiously, trying to get a view of my sitting room. “I know you’re out there. There’s no use in pretending I didn’t hear you unlock the door. Identify yourself.”
The door creaked softly. Someone was coming in.
I scrambled for a weapon, my eyes darting around the room. Perfume bottles. A couple of candlesticks. The chamber pot.
I lunged toward the mantle and scooped up an ornate porcelain vase, then tiptoed toward the door, pressing myself against the wall and listening.
It was only open an inch, but someone had been there. They might still be out there, waiting. My arms trembled.
Lifting the vase high, I kicked the door open. “Raaah!”
The doorway was empty.
I pivoted into the hall, ready to smash the vase into the intruder’s skull, but it was empty as well. Only the dusty portraits on the walls stared back at me. They almost looked alive in the flickering light of the sconces.
Frowning, I jiggled the doorknob, inspecting the latch. It had been locked moments ago—I’d double-checked after Loreli had left, as I always did. Somebody had to have been out here, listening to me.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
If it had been the king or the captain, why had they entered my room and then left? The thought twisted in my gut, and my hands grew damp. Was this a test to see what I’d do?
I glanced down the hall, left and right. Desolate. The staff and lords were probably still at the king’s revel.
Hope sparked, unbidden. This could be my chance. I could run.
But my heart knew the truth—I didn’t stand a chance. No supplies, no weapons, no map of the castle, let alone anywhere I could flee to. The king would track me down, execute Gregoire, and maybe kill Loreli, too. It was hopeless.
Moreover, I’d be running away empty-handed, other than rumors.
Yet the temptation was agony. How could I squander this opportunity?
I stood there in the silent hall, waiting and listening, as my mind fumbled through the possibilities.
Perhaps I could explore the halls and find out if there were servant passages like those in Silverthorn.
Maybe I could even steal some supplies or, if I was lucky, find a weapon.
Then, if the right opportunity presented itself, if there was some way to protect Loreli and Gregoire, I could run.
Returning the vase, I fetched a fur shawl from the large wardrobe in the corner of my room, as well as a heavy brass candlestick that would work as a club, then crept back into the dimly lit hallway.
Slinking about in my nightgown wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t have time to change, and the outfits the king had sent were all dresses, impractical to put on myself, let alone for sneaking.
The royal wing was eerily quiet and deserted.
I peeked into the first two rooms I came across, but they were unlocked and abandoned, the remaining furniture covered with linen sheets and dust. A deep melancholy permeated the air, but when I opened the door, I could easily imagine how it had once been long ago—bright and clean, with children laughing and chasing.
It was so real, as if I were right there.
Then it was gone.
I shook my head. I’d always had an overactive imagination, but the idea of human children playing in the royal wing was preposterous. Humans didn’t rule. Immortals did.
Toward the end of the hall, I found what I’d been looking for—an access to the servants’ passages tucked discreetly in a hidden alcove, just like those in Castle Silverthorn. I would’ve missed it if the door hadn’t left a mark on the dusty floor.
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I peered into the pool of darkness.
An unlit torch had been left in an iron bracket along the inside wall, its head smeared with soot.
I lit it with one of the sconces in the hall, then slipped into the passage.
Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the air smelled musty and dank, like the space hadn’t been used often, though there were footprints in the dust.
A pang of homesickness tugged at my chest. After Ella had become queen, she and I had used passages like these a dozen times to sneak out during the day while Cassius was tending to royal business.
The cold stone spread through the soles of my bare feet, and I tugged the fur shawl up over my shoulders as I slipped through the narrow hall.
No servants stopped me, and I began to relax.
The immortals would never debase themselves by using these passages, so humans were the only ones I would run into, and they were probably all focused on the bloody revel.
I wove through the servants’ halls, trying to form a map of them in my mind. It was nearly impossible without any frame of reference, so from time to time, I poked my head out into a few of the attached rooms. All were melancholy spaces, covered with dust and abandoned by life and time.
Then I pushed on a door that caught against a heavy cloth. A melody drifted in from the distance. Where in the castle was I?
Setting my torch in the empty bracket along the wall, I pulled the heavy fabric aside and slipped into a large mahogany space. A smoke room, and this one used. Tapestries of animal hunts and feasts hung from the tall walls, and glass chandeliers dangled overhead, their candles unlit.
Music and laughter echoed from further on. Making sure the servant’s door wouldn’t lock behind me, I stole through the room toward the open entrance. Light spilled from a room at the end of a dim corridor, and I paused.
I should go back.
Yet curiosity and the pulse of music drew me forward.
This was my best chance to orient myself, to catch a glimpse of whatever secrets the castle was hiding.
Moving silently on bare feet, I slipped into the shadows and followed the source of the slow, seductive melody, carefully peering into the golden-lit room beyond.
The scent of smoke, sweat, and perfume burned my nostrils.
Panels of sheer pale fabric hung between heavy curtains that had been tied back with golden cords.
Instead of the reception hall, it was a cloaked gallery overlooking an intimate space with silk-draped tables of sparkling fruits, dusted cakes, and—
Heat spread through me as my breath escaped in a whisper. “My gods.”