Chapter 44 Are Monsters MadeFound? #3
I look through every nook of the platform—behind pillows, beneath the bed and picture frames. Nothing. But something catches my eye, gleaming atop a royal blue chair. Out of time, I dash for it. Sure enough, when I grab the gleaming thing, it’s the box—with Sulva’s hair shaped like a crescent moon.
My fingers tremble with excitement as I open it, dumping the contents on the floor and trying to breathe. Rummaging through the loot, there’s nothing but jewelry. Some shine like light, others like diamonds.
My fingers clutch around the box, my grip turning white. I don’t scream or throw the box; instead, I hold it gently as I place the jewelry back inside. Then I scour through every corner of the armoire.
I want to throw everything I find. None of it is the Soul Ruby.
When footsteps sound near the door, I hurry to close the armoire. The doors swing wide. With a loud click, the armoire latches shut. But the guard I had talked down to is already staring at me, satisfaction glinting in his eyes.
“On the subject,” he mutters, “I’ve always thought you were a bitch.” He turns to summon the guards.
“I’m not Piphany!” I shout, dropping my voice to its regular pitch.
He turns, quite conspicuously, back to me.
“My name is Catarina”—I worry how anything else will sound—“and this is a glamour,” I breathe, desperate. The guard watches me as I reach for the armory door with the hand Piphany has lost. The door opens. “See? I have my hand.”
“Okay, Catarina,” he says, voice deep with skepticism. “What are you doing as Piphany?”
The truth could send him running for the queen. But if he wants power, as any worker in the castle must, then offering him some is exactly the right call.
I choose to make a play at his desire, tipping my chin forward and saying, “I’m looking for the Soul Ruby.”
The door creaks behind him as shadows push it closed. I resist the urge to smile.
“The Soul Ruby, you say?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I take it that means something to you. What do you want?”
“I’ve heard of its power, granting immortality.” The guard lowers his voice and steps forward. “My wife is pregnant, but she’s sick. The healers don’t think she or the babe will make it to the third term.”
“If you let me out of this room, I’ll help your wife when I have the stone. I promise.”
I hope it’s one I can keep. I like the idea of helping someone instead of dooming them, even if it’s just for my conscience.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Olwen.”
“You have my favor, Olwen.”
“You’re Royalty?” he asks.
“No.” I almost laugh. “But I’m good for it.”
Olwen smiles a bit too. “I’ll hold you to it.”
He reaches for the hand Piphany is missing, watching carefully. Without hesitation, I shake it. He takes a deep breath when my invisible hand meets his.
“My wife, Qualia, is in Folkara, in the sanatorium,” he says, a slight tremor in his voice.
I nod. “Thank you.”
“You’re doing more for me than I for you.”
With a gracious smile, I nod before turning to the corner of the room. I pull the Sovereign Script from its place on the wall and step out. I walk past the guards like they’re nothing, but I make a mental vow to hold up my end of the promise.
I will help Olwen’s wife.
Ducking quickly into the room where Lucian hides, I whisper, “It wasn’t there.”
No response.
“Lucian?” I look behind the cupboard.
No one’s there.
Was he caught? What in the worlds do I do if he was?
I shouldn’t have left him. I thought the glamour would be enough.
I sprint toward the door, ready to ransack the castle. But as I step into the hallway, Queen Leiana turns toward me, holding a glamoured Lucian by the neck like a rabid wolf.
“Looking for him?” she asks.
I step back, my hands balling into fists, but I reach for her blood. It thrums just beneath her skin.
It should be so easy to crack.
But it burns in my veins like poison. I glance at Lucian. His blue eyes are darker than usual. Bits of darkness seep from his mouth, like smoky saliva. It’s what Lilac did to the kid in the academy. What the queen did to me.
She’s taking his life force.
Before I can react, the queen glances down at the script in my hand. “How did you access my chambers?” she asks, voice sharp.
I don’t answer.
She turns on her heel and strides swiftly out of the room, dragging Lucian down the hall. I sprint after them, my pulse pounding. Queen Leiana halts before the door to her chambers, leering at the six guards. She raises one slender finger, her movements deliberate.
“Who?” she hisses, the one word echoing through the castle.
The guards all glance at each other before their eyes fall on Olwen. Leiana turns to him, her expression unreadable. “I thought she was Piphany. Honest,” Olwen says.
The queen hums softly, nodding her head sympathetically. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it ends here. I look like her advisor—how could he know the difference?
She steps forward, her hand rising to pat Olwen’s cheek, stroking his skin.
“Open,” she whispers, and cautiously, carefully, and most confusingly, Olwen parts his lips.
Queen Leiana reaches into his mouth and pulls. Olwen’s mouth opens wider, his eyes wet with tears. He looks like he’s screaming—but no sound comes out.
Then, the queen’s hand emerges bloody, his tongue clutched between her fingers.