Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Impossible,” I breathed.
Phantom let out a low snarl . ( If the King of Light is here, then who is that on the throne in Elarith? )
“Good question.”
I crept closer.
How could I not?
For seven years, this face had haunted my nightmares. For seven years, I had been working to heal the damage he’d done. Seven years of planning my revenge against him and all the curses he’d brought upon the world above. Upon my kingdom. Upon me. I’d hoped to face him myself, to someday personally introduce my dagger to his neck, but this man sitting before me now…
It couldn’t have been the King of Elarith.
He wasn’t moving, aside from an occasional slow, deep breath. A stunning statue of taut muscles and tense, frozen limbs, seemingly alive underneath its stone casing. He looked eerily similar to my mother and all the partygoers caught in their frozen poses back at Rose Point.
( Be careful, ) Phantom warned, as I came within a few feet of the reclining man.
I gripped my bracelets. Not necessarily for the sake of spells, but for comfort. Everything felt as if it was tilting around me, but squeezing my familiar charms—reminding myself of the power they could channel—kept me balanced.
I was balanced. I was solid. Not a ghost, the way I usually was whenever I visited my mother in the living tomb that was my old home—and I couldn’t help but crouch down and reach my solid hand forward, eager to touch and see what one of these statuesque beings might truly be made of.
Aleksander’s face was not comprised of stone after all, though it felt similar. His cheek was incredibly firm and shockingly cold beneath my fingertips…but it gave slightly beneath my touch, and after a few seconds of pressing against him, the pulse of life underneath became apparent.
A pulse that clearly grew stronger for every moment I kept my fingers against him.
It felt like the opposite of the sort of energy my magic usually created. And I hadn’t even called upon any of that magic—yet his body was clearly reacting to my touch. I couldn’t pull myself away from the strange sensation of his stirring, even as my own pulse started to pound and my skin flushed uncomfortably hot.
Phantom slithered closer, his lithe body arching up as he reached me, his bright eyes searching the trees with purpose.
A single word hissed into my thoughts: ( Company. )
I jerked my hand away from the frozen king. There was movement all around us an instant later—the brush shivering, the ground trembling, the light flickering. I could sense gazes settling in our direction, too. We were being surrounded. But by what, I couldn’t say; I couldn’t take my eyes off Aleksander.
Because he had just started glowing .
Like the flora strewn throughout this grove, only brighter, and with warmer tones woven through the strands of light—the fiery oranges and golds of a faint, dreary sunrise.
I reached a tentative hand back toward him, wondering if the light felt as warm as it looked.
It was hot enough to burn.
And this time, his skin seemed to crack at my touch, jagged fissures appearing and crisscrossing over his face, down his neck, disappearing beneath the loose linen shirt he wore.
He gasped.
I tumbled back, nearly losing my balance. Catching myself, I rose back into a more formidable crouch, lifted my gaze to his face—
He was awake .
Awake, and staring at me with a hatred so intense it felt like my skin might melt from the sheer heat of it. The moment stretched on for several horrific seconds before he finally blinked, and his expression changed; his first instinct had been fury, but his second seemed to be confusion. Disbelief.
Finally, his eyes narrowed once more in rage—and recognition.
“ You .”
I withdrew the knife at my boot before quickly rising and taking several steps back.
He was on his feet just as quickly. He swayed for several seconds, as if he’d been holding his pose for long enough that the muscles in his legs had atrophied. But just as I started to lower my guard, thinking he might be too weak to actually fight, he rushed forward.
Crackling light surrounded his fist.
He swung.
I managed to avoid the fist itself, but not the bolts of energy that flung from it. They fell like a hail storm across my body, the larger beads of energy stinging straight through my clothing and leaving painful welts on my skin.
In the corner of my vision, I still saw covert movement. People were still darting around, just out of sight, surrounding us. Phantom stalked along the edges of the trees, hissing and snarling, trying to flush them out.
I kept my attention on Aleksander—was forced to, as he was already preparing another attack. This time, the crackling energy around his clenched hand tapered to a point, like a makeshift sword.
Before he could finish forming the weapon, I rushed forward, swiping my knife toward his neck.
When he moved to parry my blade with his half-formed sword of energy, I slammed my other fist into his stomach. He doubled over. I considered plunging my knife into the exposed back of his neck. I could picture it so disturbingly clearly: a river of red staining the silvery locks of his hair; his body crumpling, returning to the statue-like stillness of before…
Two things stayed my hand.
First was the need I felt to keep him alive long enough to question him, to make sense of how he could be here when he was also in the living realm.
And then, there was the way more cracks had appeared in his skin when my fist connected with his body; there were dangerous flashes of magic sparking out from the fissures, reaching toward me like bolts of living lightning.
I squeezed the handle of my knife more tightly and backed away, attempting to put distance between myself and those currents of bright magic so I could think more clearly.
He remained bent over for several seconds longer, clenching his stomach, cursing.
I shook out my wrist, letting the clinking and clanging of my bracelets ground me once more. The red-beaded bracelet slipped down over my palm, falling over the others as if urging me to use it first. I traced my thumb over its triangular golden charm. I whispered the word Orin had taught me.
The distinct energies of my surroundings swirled into view, but they seemed… wrong.
All the colors were skewed, and strange halos appeared around it all, blurring everything together and making it impossible to focus my magic on anything specific.
Was I still too weak, too disoriented from the amount of power I’d used on the Nocturnus Road?
Or was something about Aleksander’s magic throwing mine off?
I tried to level a glare in his direction.
The amount of energy surrounding him was blinding.
Blinking, I spun away, abandoning my attempt at a draining spell, and considered escape routes. Aleksander still seemed off-balance from his time spent in repose. I could have gotten away. He might have followed, but someone had saved me from the restless dead chasing me earlier; maybe I would get lucky again.
I made up my mind to run—
Until I looked down and, suddenly, I was too stunned to take another step.
Because for the first time in years , bold, shadowy markings were rising upon my skin.
What the hell was going on?
I was so distracted by the ribbons of black lifting from my body that I almost didn’t see the arrow, made of pure Light magic, flying straight toward me.
I twisted aside. It only grazed my thigh, but even the shallow wound sent buzzing energy skipping through my veins. Between it and my emerging markings, I was too dazed to make myself move fast enough.
The Light King, on the other hand, was blazingly fast and focused all of a sudden—a blur of power that slammed into me, knocking me further off balance. His arms wrapped around my waist. He threw me against the nearest tree. My knife slipped from my grasp and my breath left me with a violent gasp.
He pinned my arms at my sides, pressing them into the rough bark.
“Seven years,” he said, his face tilting uncomfortably close to mine. “I’ve suffered seven years in this hell after what you did.”
“After what I did? You—”
His hand caught my throat, choking off my reply.
I stopped trying to talk and instead tried to free myself, thrusting my knee upward. He narrowly avoided the strike. The movement shifted his hold, and I nearly slipped free; he caught me by the arm and twisted it painfully, forcing me to go still.
“ Seven years ,” he repeated in a low, growling voice. “And you aren’t escaping me now.”
“You’ll find I’m very good at escaping,” I snarled back.
He pushed harder against my arm.
The biting pain woke something desperate inside of me. The swirls of darkness on my arm grew bolder. They started to lift and twist and spin around us, and I panicked a bit at the sight, remembering how calling upon these shadows in the past had always left me feeling lightheaded, removed from my own body—not a feeling I wanted to experience while trapped in the king’s deadly embrace.
I didn’t know how I would fare, allowing them to rise after all these years.
And I never found out—because Phantom was upon us in the next instant, bringing a cold wind and a storm of his own shadows with him.
He shifted briefly into an inky, amorphous essence, making himself small enough to slip between Aleksander and me. Then he exploded back into his solid dragon form, talons thrusting outward toward the king’s chest, forcing Aleksander to stagger backwards to avoid impalement.
The force of Phantom’s re-solidifying body threw me back against the tree, taking my breath once more. But when I caught it and the dizziness subsided, I realized I was free. I stumbled my way from the tree, snatching up my fallen knife as I went.
Aleksander darted furiously around Phantom’s coiling form and dove after me.
I ducked his reach and then swiped upward, catching his wrist with my blade. I danced several feet away before turning back to face him.
Blood poured from his wrist; he didn’t spare it a glance.
“I’m very good at escaping,” I reiterated with a nasty grin. “Because I’ve had seven years to practice, after your kingdom’s sabotage and lies made a criminal out of me.”
Whatever response he gave, it was swallowed up by Phantom’s hiss as he shot forward.
I watched, applying pressure to the wound on my thigh, as Phantom wrapped his long, powerful body around the king and bent him toward the ground. His bottom jaw unhinged, allowing him to open wider, putting his full, terrifying set of fangs on display.
I wouldn’t be able to question that bastard if his face was ripped off.
I realized this.
But the stinging pain in my thigh and the ache in the arm he’d nearly snapped in half made me less inclined to care.
Before Phantom’s fangs could crush him from existence, however, the ones surrounding us finally rushed out from their hiding places.
Ten soldiers, that I managed to quickly count. All carrying bows. They didn’t try to interfere with my shapeshifting companion. Instead, they all nocked and drew arrows with practiced, synchronized precision, pointing them at me. With the same disturbingly coordinated sort of movements, they hurried several steps closer, tightening the circle around me and leaving no gaps for escape.
Phantom and I both froze. I tried not to wince, or to show any kind of weakness, despite the burning pain blazing through my leg. Phantom remained tightly wrapped around the king…or the king’s body double, or whoever the fuck he was.
A man walked into the clearing a moment later, his own weapon—a broad sword—sheathed in an ornately-decorated case at his side.
He surveyed the lawless scene without speaking, drawing respectful gazes and bowed heads as he moved into the circle surrounding me. His right arm was wrapped in a complex tapestry of inked designs. Light brown hair; a tall, wiry frame; honey-colored eyes that seemed determined to take in everything without truly focusing on any of it.
He looked familiar, though I couldn’t think of where I’d seen him before.
His expression was the complete opposite of Aleksander’s as it met mine; there wasn’t a hint of rage to be seen. Pure curiosity brightened his gaze, tempered further by an easy smile that spread across his face as our eyes met.
“Call your beast off,” he said, nodding toward Phantom, “and I’ll call off mine.”
My gaze darted around the clearing, calculating. I didn’t trust him to call off anything. But I also didn’t trust my ability to survive all of the arrows currently pointed at me.
Seeing no other option, I gave a single, curt nod. “Release him, Phantom.”
He let out a reluctant hiss.
“Now.”
Slowly, my beast uncoiled himself and allowed Aleksander enough space to drop to the ground. The king—or his lookalike—braced a hand against that dark, muddy ground, bowing his head as he fought to catch his breath. Once he’d managed to do so, he calmly straightened to his full, impressive height and strode over to a group of the bow-wielding soldiers. Whereas the tattooed man had clearly commanded their respect, the king himself drew complete, deep bows, with a few of the circle dropping fully to their knees before him.
Even with their heads lowered, they kept stealing glances at him; they all seemed astonished to see him walking upright.
How long had he been sleeping against that tree?
Despite how fluidly he’d moved during our battle, he moved somewhat stiffly, now, as if slowing down had reminded his body of how it had been a statue only moments ago.
He didn’t so much as look in my direction anymore.
Instead, it was the tattooed man who spoke, stepping in front of me, blocking my view of Aleksander as he asked, “How did you do it?”
“…How did I do what?”
The man cocked his head. “The king has been asleep in this cursed forest for a very long time, despite all of our best efforts to save him. How did you wake him up?”
“I…all I did was touch him.”
Though his smile never truly disappeared, it was obvious he didn’t fully believe me. His gaze hardened. I braced myself for an onslaught of difficult questioning, and perhaps some form of torture to force the answers out.
Instead, he only asked, “What is your name?”
There was a faint glimmer of recognition in his tone. I averted my eyes, unwilling to indulge it, but it didn’t matter; he guessed correctly after only another moment of looking at me.
“You’re the Princess of Eldris, aren’t you?” I glanced up at his face and found him studying the shadows on my arms. “Bellanova Halestorn.”
“ Exiled princess,” I corrected. With a furious glare in Aleksander’s direction, I added, “The monarchy is no longer intact after what that bastard did on the night of my birthday.”
His brow furrowed. “I see.”
And then all at once, I realized—I knew who this man was. “You were there that night, too, weren’t you?” He was the one I’d slammed into while rushing toward the balcony.
His smile wilted a bit. “Yes. I was there, unfortunately.” He seemed to disappear into his memories for a long moment before reemerging and offering me a polite bow. “Zayn Caldor, Lord of the North Reaches.” Just as quickly as it had disappeared, the easy smile slid back onto his face as he jerked his head toward Aleksander. “And cousin of that bastard, I’m afraid.”
My gaze darted toward the king, but I didn’t let it linger. Instead, I searched all the faces around us, a seemingly outlandish possibility occurring to me…
Had they all been at Rose Point on the night of its demise?
None of the other faces seemed familiar—but then again, I hadn’t exactly been committing any faces to memory, aside from Aleksander’s. I’d kept to myself, just trying to get through the party without disappointing my family or my kingdom too badly.
“What really happened that night?” I wondered aloud.
Zayn fixed me with another long, searching look. “We’ve yet to figure it out,” he said. “All I know is, we’ve been trapped here ever since.”