Chapter Thirteen #2
I shake my head, grabbling his arm and tugging at it with all my strength. He barely budges. ‘They are only doing their jobs.’
My words fall on deaf ears. I have to think fast if I want these men to leave here with their eyes still attached in their sockets. My eyes dart to the men, to Eliaz, and back again. The furnace in me has never been hotter, humming bright with the power of the Relic.
I step back, unleashing fire onto Eliaz’s coat before drawing a circle of flame around the men, trapping them in place.
‘What the—’ The king swats the fire from his body.
‘Follow me now, or I will not help you further.’
‘Not much of a threat when you also need my help.’
‘I’ll find a way that doesn’t include your fucked-up shadow-ass if I have to.’
Without bothering to wait for an answer, I turn on my heel and run. I don’t look over my shoulder to check if he is there until I reach the gates, finding empty night air in the backward glance. Shit. He better be calling my bluff, or I am royally screwed.
The large black-iron gates are down, the archway to the castle completely blocked off. Great, just wonderful.
‘Who goes there?’ A guard’s voice echoes from the other side of the gate, and I quickly hide myself from view.
I hold my breath on the off chance that the guard has supernatural hearing, racking through my brains for any ideas of how to get to the other side.
Save from sleeping in the bushes and waiting for the gates to open in the morning, I come up with nothing useful.
I jump as the gates clatter to a start, the creaking sound of them rising upwards, leaving the mouth of the entrance gaping open. I peer my head around the corner, and sure enough the gates have lifted. I wait for signs of the guard. Silence.
‘You’re welcome.’
Scared out of my wits, I spin around, fist balled and smack the air, hand colliding with bone. Eliaz’s bone.
‘Fuck!’ we yell in unison. Searing agony rips through my hand, the skin on my knuckles split, the bones feeling as though they’ve been shattered into a million pieces.
The king wipes blood from his face and rubs it between his fingers, a mixture of his and mine, a gash on his cheekbone trickling with the same crimson as my hand.
‘Some odd ways of saying thank you in Reyheni culture. Fucking brutal.’
‘How was I to know you were sneaking around manipulating yet another guard?’ I say through gritted teeth. The pain shoots upwards from my hand. I grip it tight in the other and make my way through the entrance before Eliaz can see the wetness of tears on my face. Bootsteps follow.
‘You throw a shit punch, Princess.’
‘And your face is burst open. Seems to have done the job hasn’t it?’
‘At the expense of every bone in your right hand, it seems.’
I roll my eyes, knowing he still relishes in my pain, despite our common goal. Gravel crunches underfoot as we make our way down the road towards the back entrance of the castle.
‘Taking me through the servant’s entrance. Embarrassed to be seen with me?’ He holds a hand to his chest.
‘Less guards for you to torment into injury, you fucking idiot.’
‘I see you don’t wield flame solely from your hands, Princess.’
I shoot him a confused look.
‘Your words sure are fiery today.’ I elbow him in the gut, and he barely flinches. Not enough to leave me satisfied.
‘No, no, Princess, I like it. You’re so much more interesting when you’re pissed off. It’s like you’re finally driven by something other than feeling sorry for yourself.’
I clench my fist, the joints in my knuckles pop. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Way. Less. Boring.’ He pokes me in the side with every pointed word.
Grinding my teeth, I ball up flickering light in my hand, the energy crackling with just enough flashes to look like flame in the gaps between my fingers.
I throw it towards his face, and he throws himself backwards to dodge it, with a childlike yelp.
I giggle at the reaction. He’s not as tough as he forces you to think.
‘You’re right. It’s way more exciting to torment you back.’
The king grunts as he smooths out the fabric of his coat, charred by my earlier burst of fire.
We slip through the servant’s door unnoticed, but not without Eliaz muttering under his breath about how dull it is to be entering the castle with such quiet.
The servant’s quarters are as dimly lit and serenely silent as the halls in Daegon Manor, if not twice as dank and malodourous.
We pass by at least nine bedchamber doors, each with their own personal slithering of light that flashes at our feet as we make our way to the narrow winding stairs at the end of the hallway.
Muffled voices of castle staff barely travel into the air around us.
The king and I do not look to one another when hushed cries of pleasure pour from the cracked open door closest to the stairs.
A flush creeps into my cheeks at the sound of such an intimate moment, feeling in this moment, as blindly innocent as I had been the first time I had shared such a closeness with a man – a boy even, given how long ago it was.
But it is someone else I think of with such an affection, someone I had never so much as kissed.
Eliaz clears his throat and gestures to the stairs.
‘Irritating princesses first.’
I give his shin a swift kick before taking to the stairs. He swears in a whisper as he trails behind me. The spiralling staircase is narrow and just as dingy as the hall, we slip out the door at the top, thankful for the fresh air that reaches our lungs with the first inhale.
We come out in the corridor that leads down to the main dining room, where we as a family would dine if we ever had the pleasure of company – something I’m yet to experience, seeing as children were never deemed enjoyable dinner guests in my time in the castle.
Their behaviour much too informal and unpredictable.
‘This way.’ I gesture Eliaz to follow me. He seems less than impressed to me trailing after me like a hopeless hound, but I relish in the fact that he needs me – the fate of his kingdom relies on our alliance, and he would never do anything to jeopardise that.
The castle halls are an enjoyable quiet, reminiscent of the same halls Ori and I had sneaked around in at the fall of night, usually on our way to the kitchens to pilfer a few cookies from Cook’s own personal stash on the top pantry shelf.
Our soft-footed steps give traitorous echoes as we venture through the castle towards the northernmost turret that punctures the skyline with its twisted spire. My father’s study.
I try to swallow down the lump that forms in my throat as the door spins into view as we reach the climax of the staircase.
There it is. The thick oak planks clamped together by bulbous iron studs, now rusted with the touch of time. It’s the kind of door usually found in dungeons, only this one is made not with the idea of keeping dangerous people in, rather, but with the intention of keeping the threat of people out.
I realise my stupidity as soon as the coldness of the doorknob floods into the very bones of my fingers in preparation for turning.
The door is locked. With not a keyhole in sight.
I give a sheepish laugh to the less than pleased Umbrian king breathing impatient huffs down my neck.
‘You better not need a key.’
A nervous smile quivers on my lips. ‘Not exactly.’
Gods help me.