Chapter 19
Soooo Not my Type
She was younger than I was now, thirteen maybe, with hair too long, sleeves pulled over her hands, eyes puffy like she’d just stopped crying.
She stared at me and said nothing, my mouth going dry as I looked at her.
I knew this version of myself. I remembered this night. The tacky blue and white school uniform gave it away.
It was the time my father said he would pick me up for the weekend after I’d spent all week calling and calling and calling and finally got him to agree. He was supposed to grab me on Friday when I got out of band rehearsal, and he never showed.
I had waited alone in the dark while everyone left, pretended I wasn’t embarrassed and heartbroken when a teacher finally drove me home. I had smiled, said it was fine.
But it wasn’t fucking fine. I never called him again after that, didn’t let myself spare him a second thought. Not until now.
“This is stupid,” I muttered, already moving to get out of this godforsaken room.
The girl-me flinched. I froze.
It’s not you, I reminded myself. It’s just this castle. A trick.
But she looked at me with those big, watery green eyes that matched my own. “You forgot about me.” Her chin quivered slightly.
“No,” I said, too quickly. Was she talking to me? Or him?
“You don’t think about me anymore,” she whispered. “You locked me up and forgot about me.”
I stepped back, nearly stumbling over my own feet as she stood, slow and fragile. “Why are we here, Alyssa?”
I didn’t have an answer. The room pressed in. The bookshelves seemed to move in, closer and closer, as if trying to crush me between them. The fireplace roared, flaring bright and hot.
I turned and ran.
Back through the door, through the corridor, not stopping until the air was cooler and the scent of burning despair had faded behind me. When I finally stopped, it was only because I’d run out of breath, no idea where I’d gone, where the beginning of the house even was. No, no, no.
The next door appeared without ceremony. Black wood, polished handle, faintly glowing symbols etched into the grain. A rose, I realized when I looked closer. I didn’t want to go in, not after that last room. I didn’t know if I could take it, if I would even survive.
And still…Serena was waiting for me. My life was waiting for me. Tarran and the Carls were somewhere out there…waiting for me.
I opened it.
Inside was light. Not the cold flickering of the hall, but warm light.
Sunlight somehow. It poured through a wall of glass, big, beautiful, floor-to-ceiling windows that showed a sky painted with streaks of pink and gold.
The scent of flowers floated on a breeze that came even though the windows were closed.
I was in a lounge. Velvet settees, gold-framed mirrors, candles placed in curated disarray. It was very beautiful, but something about it made me deeply uncomfortable.
In the center of the room, lounging on a crimson chaise, was a man.
No, not a man.
The King.
I could tell from the second I saw him, even without a crown. It radiated off him like a forge.
His hair was long, dark like night, falling over one eye.
He wore all black, because of course he did, but it wasn’t armor.
Robes. Soft, elegant, open at the throat to show just the right amount of his chiseled jawline and muscular chest. He looked like sin—or someone’s idea of sin, in an emotionally devastating fanfiction about Lucifer or something.
“Are you the silent king?”
He kept his face neutral, but he leaned up into a less embarrassing position. Previously, he’d been sprawled out, as if he was a treasure waiting to be discovered by a weary traveler.
Welcome. His voice was smooth in my mind like silk, but a deep sadness rang in his words, blanketed in sorrow.
I didn’t answer.
He stood slowly, gliding across the floor. He reached for a glass of something red and glittering on a nearby table. You’ve done well to make it this far.
“Is this the trial?” I asked flatly.
He shrugged. Think of it as an initiation of sorts, to see if you have what it takes.
“The initiation?” My voice was shrill, as was my patience.
He almost laughed, but he held it in. I just wanted to have a conversation with you. I thought you might enjoy your time with me. Is that so terrible?
“Yes,” I said. “You’re not real. None of this is real.”
Does it matter?
That stopped me, for just a second.
Because the sunlight felt good. The air was warm. The wine or whatever it was smelled divine. And his eyes, pale violet and endless, were filled with something that reminded me of a certain someone waiting for me outside this castle. He was looking at me like he saw me, the parts I never showed.
And I guess he did. What the castle knew about me, he must too.
I could give you peace, he said. No more trials. No more proving yourself. Absolutely anything you want. Want to see Serena again? I can make that happen. You can have everything you want here. Eternal peace.
He waved a hand, and my best friend appeared, shimmering and translucent, but it was her. Tears sprung to my eyes, a snake wrapping around my heart, but I pushed it away, stuffed it down and locked it away in a box. This wasn’t the Serena I wanted to see again.
I don’t want peace,” I said. “I want out.”
He stepped closer. No more wondering if you’ll ever be enough. If you’d ever really be wanted. You’d be wanted here, Alyssa. I want you here.
I stared at him.
And then, I laughed.
It startled him, and he blinked. Just once.
“You almost had me,” I said. “If you’d led with the library and a decent night’s sleep, maybe I might’ve stayed, but you must be delusional. Also, sorry, but you are so far from my type, it’s laughable.”
The illusion cracked.
Sunlight flickered, warmth draining from the room. The chaise dissolved into mist. The wineglass shattered, scattering like sparkling ash. And the King, if it had ever been him, faded into fog, his eyes the last thing to go.
I stood alone, the room shrinking, the walls pulling back into unforgiving stone. Before me was the one door I recognized.
Without waiting for the castle to change its mind, I reached for the knob and pulled.