4. The Portal in Nightmare Forest #2
“Don’t hold your breath. Or do,” Sapphira snaps. “I will never understand you, and we are not alike. You’re a liar, and you just want to use me.”
“Use you?” the man scoffs. “What was it you said again? ‘I have people who do my speaking for me . . .’” He clicks his tongue and brings his hands together.
“I’m sure that’s not all they do, Princess .
They make your bed, fluff your pillows, prepare your food.
” He points at Dorian. “Even die for you. I mean, look at your friend here. How sweet.” He sighs. “Now, that is power!”
Cornelius breaks out into laughter, which echoes in the dungeon tomb. When he stops, he says, “I like you. You’re bold for someone whose friend’s life hangs by a thread.”
Sapphira’s eyes snap to Dorian. His breathing is shallow, and his face is shiny with sweat despite the cold.
“Please, help him,” she says, her anger melting away as she begs for her friend’s life. “He will die without a healer.”
The king clicks his tongue again. “Ah, there’s that sweetness. How quickly the fruit ripens when desperation heats its flesh. I knew you had it in you somewhere deep.”
The man’s flashy cape sweeps around him as he turns, the lined, black fur gleaming, and Sapphira has to hold back many nasty words as the bold red symbol grows smaller with the man’s retreat.
“Keep that attitude up, and I just might save him,” King Cornelius says.
“Wait!” Sapphira calls when he takes a step away from her. “Where is my aunt, the lady regent? What have you done to my family?”
The king only turns his head, and the flashing canines send a jolt of fear down Sapphira’s spine.
“Poor Sapphira,” he sings. “You haven’t realized yet?
” He gives her a look that turns her blood to boiling.
Like she’s a small child he’s chastising.
Her aunt used to give her that look, and she’s come to despise it.
“Don’t worry. Your aunt is exactly where she wants to be.
And your council . . . Well, they were a lot easier to sway than I imagined.
” With that, he marches off with his second at his heels.
Sapphira is left in the cold, her mind reeling as she tries to parse the king’s words. He can’t mean Agath betrayed me, can he . . . Despite everything, it feels too unreal. She has always known her aunt and cousins despise her, but to go this far would be unforgivable.
In the following silence, Fein says, “You have to get away, Sapphira.”
She startles at the older man’s words, her eyes snapping to him. He wants me to run?
“I’m serious. You are our hope. Without you, these islands are doomed. As soon as you can, you must run. I believe the king knows your secret and will use it against you. He’ll use you and your power to take over all of the Whispering Isles.”
Sapphira’s blood runs cold. King Cornelius knows her secret .
. . How? No outsider knows about my magic.
She thinks of his words: “I heard you were icy.” I thought it was a coincidence, a reference to the jokes common folk spread about my reclusive nature, thinking me cold.
But maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps he was telling me that he knows .
“How do you know?” she hisses. “Was it Agath who told him?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. But I overheard one of the guards while I was fighting in the ballroom. One of them said something about the King of Sairin spawning a child of ice.”
Sapphira bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. If Fein’s words are true, this is worse than she imagined. Her aunt has been feeding information to the Sairin king, and Sapphira had no idea. She can’t hope to defeat him on her own.
The king doesn’t return until much later. Night has fallen, and Sapphira fears even worse for Dorian. He is nearly on the brink of death. She isn’t thinking of herself, Fein’s words, or her aunt’s betrayal. She thinks only of saving her friend.
“Please!” she shouts when Cornelius’s face shines in the flickering light of the torches his guards hold.
She throws herself against the bars, then falls and lies at his feet.
“Please, help Dorian, my King.” She’s nearly sick when the words leave her lips, but she watches how they soften the man.
“I won’t fight you. I’ll become your bride.
I will do anything so long as you save him. ”
Cornelius’s eyes linger on her best friend for a long moment before he finally nods to the guards. “Grab him. Take him to the infirmary.”
Sapphira is surprised when she’s unlocked from her cage too. The Sairin knight takes Dorian from Fein’s arms, and though the older man is hesitant, he doesn’t fight it. He knows Dorian needs help fast. The knight practically carries Dorian, who leans heavily on him to stay upright.
Sapphira reaches out to help, but Cornelius grabs her arm. She winces at the bruising grip as she’s dragged along out of the dungeon.
“Can I say goodbye first?” she asks, gesturing to Dorian as they begin to diverge paths. The king’s face twists like he bit into a lemon. “Just in case—”
“Make it quick,” he snaps.
Sapphira wastes no time, rushing to Dorian’s side and wrapping her arms tightly around him. His arms are limp at his sides, held up only by her body as he nearly crushes her under him.
She is surprised when he speaks. In her ear, he echoes Fein’s words to her. “You must go, Sapphira. Don’t worry about me or the others.”
Her eyes widen. “But you—”
Dorian’s head shakes just a fraction, his words hard. “Don’t worry about anyone but yourself, Sapphira. Without you, we’ll all be dead anyway. You are the kingdom’s hope. Live.”
She grips his jacket in her fists as she holds him up, tears sinking past her closed eyelids. She wants him to fight for her—to beg her not to go. But she knows that is a selfish thought. He can barely stand on his own.
The king’s guard pulls Dorian out of Sapphira’s grasp and leads him away.
Then Cornelius grabs Sapphira’s arm again. “I know you’re feeling betrayed. But trust me, it’s nothing of the sort,” he whispers in her ear. “Quite the opposite. You see, I came here with a mission. But you changed everything.”
Sapphira shoots him a confused look.
“After our conversation last night, I realized how wrong I was about you. You were only a means to an end. But you’ve proved you would be a lovely wife. I will save you from yourself and this hell, and you will rule at my side.”
Sapphira bites her cheek to keep from spitting in his face. He’s mad if he thinks she will ever be his bride. Just looking at him disgusts her.
“You will go with this maiden to get ready for the ceremony,” Cornelius says, pushing Sapphira toward a young girl. To the maiden, he says, “Make sure my bride looks her best.”
The terrified girl nods, her large eyes unblinking.
Cornelius turns to leave, but Sapphira shouts, “What did you do with my family? Where are they?”
A confused look passes over his face, and then realization softens his features. He smiles. “I’ll see you later, my love. In the meantime, my guards will keep you safe.”
Sapphira recognizes the threat, in his warning tone, and the dark expression that passes his face.
She pales as she follows the maiden upstairs.
Cornelius must not have trusted her to be in her own chamber, because she’s in one of the empty guest rooms. The girl cleans Sapphira and fixes her hair.
The maiden is shaking the whole time, refusing to meet Sapphira’s eyes.
During the preparations, Sapphira is withdrawn and sullen. She is thinking about Dorian’s and Fein’s words and preparing to flee for her life. She may never return, never see her friends again. Or she may fail, and King Cornelius will capture and kill her for trying to escape.
Sapphira only has one shot at this. She must get her hands on a sword.
It’s her best skill. Her eyes scan the room.
She’s in the second guest bedroom, one of the rooms that wasn’t refurnished, and she knows there’s a long sword hidden in the design of the bedpost. The old pirate king who built the castle was a paranoid man.
That’s the one good thing about being stuck in the castle for years with nothing much to do. Sapphira knows the place inside and out. She can only hope her aunt doesn’t know about that feature and hasn’t warned Cornelius.
With only one girl, it takes much longer than usual to get Sapphira ready, and the girl is on the younger side. But she manages to salvage Sapphira’s braids and tie them into a new style. One that fits the Sairin style more, she supposes, with stiff wiring that makes it heavy and hard to move in.
“The King likes that one,” a maiden whispers. Sapphira cuts her eyes toward the girl. “He said he likes all of the ties and the braided bows. It reminds him of the ropes and knots on the ships he commands. “Even your gown was hand-picked by the king.”
Sapphira turns back to the mirror, her expression souring.
A Sairin woman brings in the dress and stays by the door as she puts it on.
Once she’s fully dressed, she stares into the mirror in disgust. The wide and poofy skirt makes walking in a straight line difficult.
The gown’s high waistline and elaborate sleeves are neither her style nor practical for the Isle.
She’s sweating already as she tucks Dorian’s star into a small pocket in the new dress.
Her eyes dart to the Sairin woman standing against the wall closest to the bed. Sapphira will have to get around her without the woman alerting the guards outside the door.
Sapphira nods to the young maiden, motioning her to leave.
“I need a moment alone to gather myself,” Sapphira then says to the Sairin woman. “Can you let the other guards know I’m almost ready to leave?”
The woman watches Sapphira for a moment as she wrings her hands and then nods. As she walks toward the door, Sapphira’s eyes flicker to the false bedpost across the room. It blends into the intricate post detailing. Her heart pounds and her palms sweat.