Chapter 21 #2
A face swam before her, the eyes too difficult to see in the thick shadows surrounding them, but a fracture of light highlighted the scrape of scruff lining his jaw and the scar above his mouth.
She struggled against his hold, but he only leaned in closer, pressing his full weight against her until the stone bit into her back and she thought her lungs would collapse.
He grabbed her cheeks, pinching, jerking her face up to him. “Well, well. If it isn’t the fae who likes to drink and fuck. Looks like you’ve found yourself in a bit of a bind.”
“Let me go.” Everinne’s voice was a harsh whisper, grating like nails scouring coarse brick. Her magic seethed, black and violet shadowy tendrils crawled from her fingertips like phantom hands of death.
“Or what?” he taunted, his mouth twisting into a crooked sneer.
Mocking laughter filled her ears, heightening the pulse of her anger.
“Or I’ll kill you,” she snapped, baring her teeth.
He chuckled mirthlessly. “I’d like to see it.”
Then his mouth slashed across hers and he forced his slimy tongue between her lips. That same sardonic laughter raked through Everinne’s mind, and she bit down, sinking her slightly sharp canines into his tongue, until the metallic tang of his blood filled her mouth.
The man screamed, ripping away from her.
He threw her aside, scarlet pouring down his chin and neck.
She stumbled forward and spat, then whipped around to face her attackers.
Five figures loomed before her, large, beastly men, dressed in hooded cloaks.
They thought they could take what they wanted from her, they thought they could berate her, violate her…
and think they would live to tell the tale.
But they were sadly mistaken. There would be no mercy tonight. Only death.
“Fucking bitch!” he roared, stalking toward her like predator to prey. “I’ll slit your throat for that.”
Everinne wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and the power of torment inside her smiled. “You can try.”
Dark magic lashed out like a feral, caged beast, tearing through the fraying tethers of Everinne’s control.
It consumed her being, sweeping through her like a storm of violence and chaos.
Shadows of midnight and deep violet consumed the alley, devouring the space, slithering around two of the hooded men whose eyes had gone wide with panic.
Even in the sickly, dim light, she could see the ghastly pallor of their terrified faces.
Snarling, her magic speared each of them, splintering their bones, crushing their lungs.
Blood moved like sludge through their veins, their garbled screams muffled by the pulse of power squeezing around their hearts.
Everinne could taste their pain, sweet and thick like honey.
She stretched one arm out, palm up, then slowly closed each of her fingers. Her shadows mimicked the motion, the sinewy phantoms sinking like claws into the frenzied minds of the two men. Apathetic and jaded, she watched their bodies contort and writhe as the agony she inflicted only increased.
She clenched her fist.
They crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Three.
Three lives she’d taken so far. Callum, and these two males.
And tonight, she would steal three more.
But there was no regret. No remorse. She was numb on the inside, a vast well of emptiness.
Perhaps in the morning she would feel guilt for her actions, or perhaps she would simply feel nothing at all.
It made no difference to her. For now, survival was all that mattered, and if the only way to do so was through a lack of mercy and violence, then so be it.
Power hummed, lifting the hair from her shoulders, preparing to strike again, when a rough cloth was clamped over Everinne’s nose and mouth.
She choked and gagged as the stench of damp woods and herbs flooded her senses. Alarm fired through her. Arms flailing, she struggled to fight, to escape, but her movements were sluggish and heavy. Her lungs burned for air as though she’d been shoved underwater.
Without warning, the world tilted, Everinne’s body swayed, and everything went dark.
Flickering lights danced behind Everinne’s eyelids, wavering in and out of focus to the pounding ache throbbing at her temples.
She felt as though she’d been bashed upside the head with the hilt of a sword, the pain sending a wave of nausea roiling through her.
Groaning, she clutched her stomach, sucking in a breath of air that smelled oddly yet sickeningly familiar.
Sulfur and smoke. It triggered something in the back of her mind, almost like a warning, but her mind was swimming in a haze of delirium, and she couldn’t tell if she was awake or still falling into oblivion.
“Everinne.” A subdued, masculine voice prodded at her.
Her head lolled to the side as she tried to peel her eyes open. She blinked in a desperate attempt to focus, but her vision was barely more than a smear of watercolors.
She knew she was seated on a sofa, or perhaps a chair.
She couldn’t be sure, but there was a soft cushion cradling her weakened body.
The lights burned a little brighter and she squinted, gritting her teeth against the assault on her senses.
A figure loomed over her, then crouched down, and Kralv Oldrich’s face came into view.
Everinne startled, swallowing a yelp. She slid from the chair, her muscles spasming, as she fought to stop herself from tumbling toward the floor in front of the kralv.
He snared her by the shoulders, dragging her back upward, and repositioned her in the seat. “Easy, Everinne. The effect of wolfsbane takes some time to wear off. It will be a few hours yet before you regain full control of your body.”
Hours?
How long had she been out?
Her bleary gaze slid around the room, gradually taking in her surroundings.
The walls were all dark, papered with black satin scrollwork and gilded shelves housing a sparse, untouched collection of dust-laden books.
A large desk was behind the kralv, its glossy surface free from any kind of clutter, as though it was rarely used.
Sconces shaped like wolf heads with gaping jaws lined the walls, golden fire illuminating the eyes, giving the impression of ferocious beasts.
There was only one window in the expanse of the room, and the thick, black draperies were pulled closed, revealing only a sliver of the outside.
From what Everinne could gather, which wasn’t much, dawn was approaching.
The kralv stood, edging backward so he leaned the bulk of his weight upon the desk. He crossed his arms and angled his head, his dark brown hair with slashes of gray covering half of his face. “You’re in quite a bit of trouble, Everinne.”
“Trouble?” She swallowed around the word, her throat dry and scratchy like she’d slept with her mouth open.
Kralv Oldrich ran a thumb along his beard, his dark eyes narrowing slightly beneath two bushy brows. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Yes,” she croaked. “I…”
Everinne’s voice trailed off, the memory of only a few hours ago just out of her reach.
She could vaguely remember her conversation with Reine, the prick of a dagger, and then…
nothing. It was a bleak void of emptiness, and no matter how hard she grasped at the time that had been stolen from her, she couldn’t recall anything after leaving the Mystic Obscura.
The pressure in her head only amplified.
“Would you like me to remind you?” the kralv asked, arching a brow.
She winced. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“My guards were on patrol when they discovered you curled up in a ball in a dank alleyway, a few blocks away from the Mystic Obscura.” He heaved his large frame off the desk, tucking his meaty hands behind his back.
“They offered you assistance, an escort to return you safely back home, which you refused.”
“But I—” She snapped her mouth shut when his gaze cut to her with cruel authority.
He inhaled deeply, his chest puffing out. “You then attacked them. Killing two.”
“What?” Everinne shrieked. She slumped further into the chair, attempting to dig her heels into the black fur carpet to keep from sliding. But her legs simply would not work. “No. I would never.”
Except she had, because on her right forearm, the vine tattoo had lengthened, and two more blood roses had appeared.
“Do try to be still, you’re only making things worse.” The kralv sighed with an air of disappointment, his expression almost pitying. “You’re lucky they only chose to subdue you as opposed to using force, which would have been thoroughly warranted, I might add.”
She rolled her head from side to side in a pathetic attempt to dispute the accusation. “Your Majesty, please. That can’t be right…I wouldn’t…couldn’t. I have no such power.”
“I have seen the bodies, Everinne. Or at least, what is left of them.” He paced around the study, and she tracked him with her eyes until he disappeared from view, walking behind her.
When he spoke again, his hard voice scraped past her cheek.
“Do you know what the punishment is for killing a kralv’s guard? ”
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “Lashings?”
He made a tsk ing noise and stalked back around to the desk, leaning one hip against it. Rolling the cuffs of his black shirt, he shook his head once. “If only it was that simple.”
Everinne’s breathing hollowed out. If it wasn’t lashings, it must be something far worse.
“Under normal circumstances, there are usually two types of punishments, depending on the severity of the crime.” Kralv Oldrich cracked his knuckles, the corners of his mouth lifting into a placating smile. “A permanent trip to Rizenrok Forge. Or death.”
Dread slammed into her, and a tiny bead of sweat slid down her back.
“Now,” he continued, his eyes roving over her, “you will have to be an exception to the rule. It would look rather shameful if the Lord of Time’s sister was put to death or sent off to the mines, which is why I’m willing to offer you a deal.
You’ve been keeping your magic a secret for a very long time, Everinne.
It was wise of Veros to keep you hidden away.
But someone of such power could prove to be quite useful to their kingdom. ”
Her heart squeezed in her chest, her lungs were too tight. “I don’t understand.”
“In exchange for my forgiveness and sparing your life, you will marry my son.” He pushed off the desk once more, closing the distance between them. Snaring her chin, he lifted her face. “And once you are engaged, you will utilize your magic at my every request.”
She tried to pull away, to escape his firm grasp, but the kralv only tightened his hold.
“You don’t understand,” she pleaded, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s too dangerous, I can’t control?—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he crooned, his sinister laugh ringing in her ears. “I control you now. Do as your kralv commands, or else.”
Kralv Oldrich’s magic exploded in a fit of tempered wrath.
Its acrid stench of sulfur and smoke consumed her, stealing into her mind as he tore through her, bringing her worst fears to life.
Visions swarmed her, awful images that left her trembling in terror with tears streaming down her cheeks—Veros being beaten and forced into submission, Atlas slogging through the mountains of the mine camp, battered and bleeding, and then Everinne, naked on her hands and knees, as a faceless man drove into her from behind while vicious laughter drowned out her screams.
A choking sob escaped her.
“That’s right.” The kralv’s cold voice pierced the horrors breaking her. “If you refuse to accept my offer, you will become a pet to the kralv’s guard. A toy for them to use and discard as they see fit. A proper repayment for the lives you so carelessly took.”
Everinne squeezed her eyes shut, convulsing against the onslaught, but the fears the kralv enforced upon her did not ease.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
“Yes,” Everinne rasped, opening her eyes to find the kralv staring down at her.
“Good. The ball is tonight. Make sure you dress the part.” He slowly loosened the cuffs of his sleeves, his lips pressed into a firm line, and his magic finally ebbed. “One word, one breath about this arrangement to anyone and I will ensure the severity of every last one of your fears.”
Then he snapped his fingers and Everinne was being hauled out of the chair, her limp body dragged from the study.
“Take her to one of the guest rooms and be discreet,” Kralv Oldrich ordered. “Then send a maid to bathe her. She reeks of the street.”
The guards removing her from the study muttered their assent, their voices echoing quietly from somewhere above her.
“Death-touched,” one of them snarled.
“Can already imagine what they’ll call her.” The other chuckled as they lugged her out into the darkened hall. “The princess of pain.”
But Everinne didn’t hear them.
The only sound she could focus on was the shattering of her soul.