Chapter 32
When Noctua played a joyful tune, the folk laughed and danced. Even the shadows seemed to revel, taking on minds of their own.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Thea wiped her tears before turning to face Erebus. It was time for him to keep the next part of his bargain. She spoke with cold clarity. “Heal Damon.”
The king stared back at her, unspeaking, his magic battering her mind.
Like a current rushing along a dam, it tested her, trying to find a crack in her mental walls.
Thea marveled at his sudden mood changes.
He could be furious and emotional one moment, cold and calculating the next.
He seemed to vacillate between trying to inspire fear or devotion, perhaps the two mixed together to confuse and unbalance.
Or maybe he had little experience with anyone able to defy him.
His charm rushed through her mind, as wild and insistent as a river bursting with snow melt from the mountains.
It swept her up, turning her mind over, twirling her sense of self into eddies.
Somehow, though, she was not lost in it.
She allowed the wildness to pass and found herself at the center, still Thea.
The king’s brows drew together in confusion as he watched her face, his scrutiny as fierce as the power that flowed from him.
She held on to herself and stared back, taking a relieved breath when she realized she’d been practicing resisting since she’d met Damon.
The shadows moved toward her, but no longer with menace. Drawn, she thought. Drawn to strength, as her mother had said.
Erebus broke into her thoughts with a sharp command. “Prospect! Retrieve my son.”
The Seer rushed off, disappearing into the gloom.
After what felt like an age, his gray robes came into view.
Damon leaned heavily against his left side, his steps labored.
His pale face was striped with blood. His shadows were gone.
Thea wanted to rush to him, but she held still as he and the Seer drew closer.
Prospect lowered Damon to the stone flags before the king. Damon’s eyes fluttered open. When they met Thea’s, his look was feverish, his eyes dilated, as if he wasn’t quite lucid.
Erebus spoke with a detached sort of pride. “My son is difficult to kill.”
Thea turned her back on him, the hatred she felt making her long to slay him right now.
Prospect went to his knees. Shadows swirled over Damon’s body, converging like fish weaving between rocks. When they cleared, Damon’s eyes were closed. He looked so vulnerable.
“He’s asleep,” Prospect said, looking at Thea, then the king. “He needs rest. But the worst of his wounds are healed.”
Thea watched Damon’s chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. His skin was a healthier hue. She took a breath, some of the tension leaving her body.
“Well, my willow?” King Erebus said with a mocking tone that made her back straighten against it. “I have met my end of the bargain.”
He was right. This was what she had agreed to do, but now that the moment was upon her, she fought a surge of unfamiliar panic.
Erebus offered his arm to Thea, his eyes on her as he instructed his Seer. “Prospect, let us make this vow official. The altar.”
Thea pretended she didn’t notice his proffered arm, turning away to follow Prospect, who led them to a stone slab in the center of a circle of trees.
From the silver branches hung lanterns containing moon sprites, their tiny bodies pressed against the glass.
Everything in this place was either trapped or subjugated.
The thought of spending the rest of her life here made Thea’s heart thud in thick, painful beats.
She wanted to run as she’d never wanted to run before.
“Stand here,” Prospect told her.
Thea noticed rusty streaks on the stone. From sacrifices? How appropriate. She felt like one.
She stepped onto the slab. What had appeared to be scratches in the stone on closer inspection seemed to be Runic characters.
She wished she knew what they meant. Perhaps Erebus wanted to ensure this vow was as binding as possible.
If what Prospect had said about the Ancients having no power here was true, that meant Noctua could not enforce vows in this place.
But maybe some other power did. Perhaps the shadows or Erebus himself.
Erebus stepped onto the altar next to her. She moved to put more distance between them, but he merely smiled and took her arm, drawing her to the center. She battled an overpowering urge to plant her fist in his belly. The shadows would only stop her, and the attempt would amuse him.
It occurred to Thea that it was almost like a wedding ceremony.
But instead of candles, there were trapped moon sprites.
Instead of family and friends to witness the event, there were shadows writhing toward her, their cold tendrils stroking her neck and chin.
Instead of a priestess of the Ancients officiating the ceremony, a Seer in filthy robes stood awkwardly in front of herself and the king.
“Prospect,” Erebus said, staring deep into Thea’s eyes, “you may begin.”
“Repeat after me,” the Seer intoned. “I, Theodora, daughter of Silvanus…” He paused and waited.
Thea repeated his words, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. “I, Theodora, daughter of Coventina and Silvanus…” Adding her mother’s name seemed like an act of defiance, but the king only raised a brow, his eyes intensely triumphant.
Prospect went on. “… do swear a Sylvan oath to be obedient to King Erebus.”
Thea paused. “Do swear…” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. Her throat was tight, her chest aching as if she were about to tell a lie. She stared at Erebus mutely, unable to continue.
“Say it.” It was low and sharp, a nasty command that gave her a good idea how he would treat her in the future.
She almost choked. “It feels… like a lie.”
Erebus raised his arm to backhand her. But she was faster, blocking with her own arm. Erebus grabbed her wrist, squeezing it painfully while she contemplated whether to knee him or punch him. The shadows did nothing, which Thea found interesting.
Prospect cleared his throat. “Perhaps there is some variant of the vow that you will find acceptable, my liege.”
“This is not up to her,” Erebus spat. But after a moment, he let Thea go.
She took a step back, her mind racing. Could she get out of this? Damon was healed, or so the Seer claimed, and her mother was free. What prevented her from refusing to adhere to this ridiculous deal?
The king must have realized that possibility, or he read her thoughts in her eyes. “I will kill Damon in front of you,” he promised. “Slowly.”
She believed him. Closing her eyes, she considered what she could say that might satisfy the bargain. She had to force the words out. “What if I promise to stay in your realm unless you allow me to leave?”
“Not enough,” Erebus said. “Vow not to defy me.”
Thea felt again the mental pressure—less of a current, more of a heavy, insistent pull like the undertow of river rapids. His magic was trying to sway her, to bind her to him. Disgust turned her stomach, forcing her to swallow and take a deep breath.
“I vow not to defy you.” She hated him.
He smiled, his magic softening. Perhaps he thought it was working. “Vow to follow my every instruction.”
“I’ve made my promise!” Thea shouted, reaching some internal limit. “Let that be enough. Or kill Damon and then kill me. And be done.”
They stared at each other for a few moments. Thea’s stomach roiled, wondering which way the king would go.
“Fine,” the king said in a bored voice, though she heard the undercurrent of rage clearly enough. “Prospect, take her to the guest cottage to dress. I have sent out invitations. We should expect visitors tonight.”
Desperate to escape his presence, Thea didn’t ask what he meant. She wasted no time following the Seer down a path of purple stone between silver trees. It led to a cottage, the walls inlaid with moldings of silver and hung with rich tapestries.
“Who stays here?” Thea asked, not liking this place at all.
Prospect ran his finger along a lacquer table, his lip curling at the dust. “No one recently. In the past, his wives.”
Thea put a hand to her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Do not,” the Seer said, “throw up on the tapestries. The king will be displeased.”
Thea made a mental note to throw up on the tapestries.
“The shadows will dress you,” Prospect said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” Thea said. “I don’t need any help!”
No sooner had the Seer shut the door than the shadows converged, pulling a dark shape from a trunk in the corner.
The garment was made of black silk with black seed pearls stitched into its bodice, and a collar of cobwebs.
Thea longed to disappear, to shrink away, but she remained still as the shadows slid pins into her hair and placed a silver tiara on her brow.
The metal was so cold, it made her forehead ache, but after a minute, it warmed to her skin.
Why the crown? Was she to play the role of queen? For a moment, she truly thought she might throw up. But she took a deep breath and stepped from the cottage.
Prospect looked her up and down, nodding once before he turned away. “Follow me.”
A short, silent boat ride ended at Damon’s castle.
Thea’s breath locked in her throat. Surely the king couldn’t be planning to receive guests here?
But the vessel scraped onto the familiar shore, and Prospect got out, halting to wait for her in the doorway.
Reluctantly, Thea followed, taking slow steps inside.