Chapter 31
Belle
The king wasn’t making idle threats. He left me to starve, locked in my room, under guard.
On the first day, Loreli snuck me a stale biscuit and an apple. That evening she didn’t return, and when I asked the guards about her in a panic, they informed me that she was quite fine, but that she’d been reassigned for the moment to ensure the king’s orders were carried out to the letter.
The king. Everything about him was infuriating. The smoky, spicy scent of him—revolting. The way he said princess in that low and lazy tone that made my skin prickle—unbearable.
There was nothing to do but endure. The practicality of my situation was clear. I would have to eat eventually, but I resolved to hold out as long as I could. I’d learned the hard way that when dealing with immortals, you couldn’t show weakness. Weakness made you prey.
To keep my mind off my growing hunger, I set about practicing my magic and honing my skills. I quickly learned that each attempt drained my physical strength and exacerbated the dull ache slowly growing in my gut, so I pivoted to something far more essential: privacy.
The king was spying on me. How? At times, I swore I could feel his gaze prickling over my skin, an unwelcome presence pushing itself into my chambers. It was a violation, an intrusion into a lady’s most sacred space. And most importantly, damned inconvenient.
In the moments when the uneasy feeling was absent, I searched the room, checking behind the paintings and tapestries for spyholes, or thudding on the walls with my fist to listen for hollows. Nothing. Yet somehow, he was watching me.
Letting out a growl, I plopped down at my little writing desk, racking my mind and trying to piece together a solution.
My magic let me command objects, so maybe I could ask for their help. But how? They responded to directions like ‘stab him’ and ‘spin.’ But what about something more abstract?
Lifting the candlestick, I turned it over in my hands. What did a candlestick know? It wasn’t anything more than a lump of brass. Yet, in a way, it was also a witness to everything that had happened in the room, and if I could wake it, perhaps I could tap into that knowledge.
I set it down and reached out with my magic. Rather than linking, I let my gift brush lightly over the objects around me, prodding and inquiring. “Can any of you show me how the king is watching me?”
Nothing moved in response.
I sighed. It was a shot in the dark, but I kept trying. “Is there a spy hole hidden in this room?”
No response. “Is there anywhere for someone here to hide unseen?”
Several presences flickered to life in my mind, one brighter than the rest: the quill on the table next to me. I plucked it out of its stand and channeled a breath of magic into it. “Show me.”
The quill twitched in my open palm, then slowly rose into the air like a feather caught in the breeze.
It floated forward, bobbing gently through the bedroom as I followed.
It finally came to a stop and hovered when its tip bumped against the seam of one of the dark wooden panels that lined the bedroom wall.
I traced my fingers along the seam, pushing and prodding. What was it? Could there be a concealed space or passage? Could the king have been lurking just outside my bedroom?
My imagination raced. What if he’d let himself in? He could move as silently as a ghost. Could he have entered and watched me while I practiced my magic, too distracted to notice him lurking in the shadows? Had he watched me in my sleep?
My stomach tumbled, and with my panic rising, I pressed my hands on either side of the seam and channeled my magic into the wall. “Open.”
For a second, nothing happened. Then the panel popped out an inch, and I stepped back as it swung out with a loud creak, revealing a secret door, and beyond it a dark passage spiraling down.
I grabbed the candlestick and lit it. Two things were immediately obvious.
The door creaked too loudly to allow the king to make a clandestine entrance—no matter how soft his footfalls—and the passage itself hadn’t been used for decades, or even centuries.
Dust lay thick across the stairs, and long-abandoned cobwebs trailed from the low ceiling.
That meant the king didn’t know this was here. He would never have put me in a room with a secret exit.
That also meant he had a different way of spying on me—a problem for another time.
I slowed my breaths and searched for the now familiar sensation of being watched.
Once certain that I was unobserved, I slipped into the passage.
Two letters had been carved into the stone beside the door—L and E—though someone had scored through them with deep scratches as if trying to erase them entirely.
I traced my fingers over the letters. Who had they been? Illicit lovers?
Candlestick held aloft, I brushed away cobwebs as I descended warily down the stairs. There were no exits. Then, two floors down, I came to a solid wall. I placed my hand on the stone. “Open.”
The wall groaned and swung away, revealing a dark chamber.
I stepped through and raised the candlestick.
The feeble light shimmered over an abandoned chamber, similar in layout to my own.
It was devoid of furniture and covered with dust. Like the passage, no one had used this in centuries.
I moved through the desolate antechamber.
There was a door into the hall, just like mine. And it was locked.
I threaded a little magic into the latch. “Open.”
The door clicked and swung out, revealing the darkened hall beyond. My pulse drummed against my chest. I had a way out if I ever needed it.
With a wistful glance at the passage beyond, I closed the door and hurried back to the concealed passage, then scrambled back up the stairs as quickly as I could. As soon as I was back in my own room, I paused and listened.
I was alone, and there was no sensation of being watched. A part of me had expected the king to be there, waiting to pounce—but he wasn’t. I exhaled sharply.
The secret was all mine.
I blew out the candle and shut the door, then wiped the floor for any evidence of my passing. I would have to be careful. The king was bound to catch me if I used the secret passage often or frivolously.
Emergency only.
I crawled into bed and lay there exhausted, trying to ignore the growing pangs of hunger in my belly. I flipped over and closed my eyes, imagining slipping through the secret door and to freedom.
Maybe the king would pursue me. Maybe he’d catch me. Maybe he’d cage me against the wall with his body, his corded forearms beside my head as he lowered his lips to mine with that infuriating almost-smile.
That’s when I’d use my magic to stab him in the back.