Chapter 8 #3
Aggravation spiked as I quickened my pace. “I haven’t fallen behind.”
He said nothing, his gaze straight ahead as we continued toward our destination.
His dark hair was gathered at his neck. This time, however, he’d forgone the knot, and the silky-looking mass fell to the center of his back.
He’d changed after the hunt, but his clothes were the same unrelieved black he favored.
Maybe he had a whole wardrobe of black trousers and jackets.
Black boots and mantles. He probably slept in black pajamas.
Then he rose from bed and dressed for the day’s kill.
Vander’s voice echoed in my memory. You don’t know anything about Lorcan.
I knew enough.
“I won’t marry you,” I told him.
No response. I clenched my jaw. Apparently, every man in the Drakhold treated words like precious coin, doling them out only under protest.
The corridor twisted again, and we approached an archway flanked by two knights in heavy armor and crimson cloaks. My father’s serpent gleamed on their breastplates as they saluted. Lorcan paid them no mind. Just before we passed under the arch, his voice filled my head.
Don’t tell him your name.
Him? I looked at Lorcan, confusion buzzing in my mind. Before I could question him, we passed the knights and entered a dim, windowless antechamber shaped like an octagon. Identical black doors lined the deep red walls. The space was otherwise empty.
I stopped, unease pumping in sync with my heart.
Whispers filled the air, dozens of overlapping voices circling the chamber. Dread settled over me. Something bad was going to happen. Conflicting urges tugged at me. Stay put. Run. I couldn’t decide.
Lorcan went to one of the doors. With his hand on the knob, he looked at me over his shoulder. “Don’t dawdle.”
The whispers picked up, the voices multiplying.
Hot breath caressed my ear. I startled, a tiny yelp escaping me as I spun, looking for the source.
But no one was there. Light from the archway spilled over a few inches of the stone floor and then stopped abruptly as if it could penetrate only so far.
“Look at me,” Lorcan said.
I swiveled around to find him watching me with a dispassionate expression.
“You’re already late,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise making things worse.”
The door in front of him was an average size. Not the sort of grand entrance that preceded a ballroom where a feast might be underway.
“What is this place?” I asked. “I thought you were taking me to the betrothal feast.”
His expression didn’t change. “His Majesty will speak with you. Now come here.”
Come here , a whisper echoed. Immediately, others repeated it.
Come here.
Come here.
Come here.
Lorcan’s jaw tensed as he glanced around the chamber.
The whispers rushed over one another, tumbling and blending as they grew louder.
A low, throaty chuckle joined the command, the timbre of the voice neither male nor female but somehow a mixture of both.
A singsong voice joined the chorus, the words rising and falling from a high-pitched register to a bass that vibrated the floor.
Come here.
Come here, come here, come here.
I rushed to Lorcan, a hundred whispers snapping at my heels. He opened the door, and I scrambled past him and into a…study?
The whispers cut off at my back. I blinked as I took in surroundings that couldn’t have been more different from those I’d just left.
The two-story room was bathed in purple twilight that streamed through a bank of tall windows.
A massive chandelier spilled more light over bookcases crammed with books and scrolls.
A table near one of the windows held an array of telescopes as well as maps weighted with chunks of sparkling crystal.
Bundles of herbs dried on a small rack in the corner.
Twin staircases with iron railings climbed to the second level, which appeared to house more bookcases.
A set of stone steps led to a raised platform dominated by an oversized desk topped with additional telescopes and scientific instruments.
At least I assumed they were scientific. Derryton certainly didn’t hold such wonders, so I could only guess at the instruments’ uses.
Footsteps rang out, and Rasimir appeared at the top of one of the staircases with a book in his hands. He smiled warmly as he spotted me.
“Corinthe!”
He descended quickly, snapping the book shut as he crossed to me. Shrewd green eyes searched my face, and a knowing expression settled over his features. “You met Barothrok. Didn’t Prince Lorcan warn you not to engage him?” As Lorcan appeared at my shoulder, Rasimir gave him an expectant look.
Lorcan’s face was a polite mask as he offered Rasimir a short bow. “A brief warning not to dawdle, Majesty. For many people, too much detail can lead to fear.”
The lie clanged in my head like a discordant note. Lorcan hadn’t just warned me to hurry. He’d also spoken in my head, telling me to withhold my name.
Rasimir nodded. Then he turned to me with approval shining in his eyes. “Prince Lorcan is wise. An excellent trait for a king’s chief adviser, yes?”
I looked at Lorcan. So that was his role. Chief adviser to a brutal tyrant. Maybe hunting Alon had been his idea.
“The demon who guards my office feeds on fear,” Rasimir added, pulling my gaze back to him.
“Do you know much about demons?” He showed me the book he was holding, which was bound in red leather and titled in a language I couldn’t read.
“Fascinating creatures. As I mentioned, Barothrok thrives on fear, but some species consume other things. Fear is an almost inexhaustible commodity, however, which means demons like Barothrok can get quite large.” Rasimir used the book to gesture behind me.
“When I first brought him to Nocta, he never stopped trying to escape. But over time, he glutted himself on fear, growing bigger. He’s so large now, he fills the antechamber.
He could escape if he simply stopped eating.
But he can’t help himself. The more fear he devours, the more he wants.
I’ve read that the hunger becomes insatiable, the cravings a special kind of torture.
” Rasimir leaned toward me with a conspiratorial smile.
“Sounds a bit like lemon cakes, doesn’t it? ”
I knew my expression was stony as I stared at him. “It doesn’t sound anything like lemon cakes,” I said.
Rasimir’s smile grew, the tips of his fangs showing.
“Oh, it is, I assure you. But if you still have doubts, you could spend a few days in Barothrok’s company.
I’m confident that would eliminate your confusion.
” He made a dismissive gesture. “Of course, it would eliminate all other emotion as well since it would destroy your mind. But at least you wouldn’t be confused. Should we give it a try?”
My throat went dry and dread prickled over my scalp. “No,” I said carefully. “That’s not necessary.”
My father’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’ll have to let me know if you change your mind. But it’s probably for the best. You and Lorcan will be quite busy with wedding plans.”
Lorcan was a silent presence at my side. I waited for his voice to slide into my mind—to caution me as he had during the hunt. But he offered no help. Just silence.
I lowered my gaze, shame and anger warring within me.
All of Nocta serves the king. And now I knew why.
Rasimir’s eyes weren’t black, but his madness was obvious.
How could I fight someone who didn’t discern between right and wrong?
How could I challenge a man who was willing to feed his own daughter to a demon?
“However,” Rasimir said, “I have concerns.” When I looked up, he studied me, a frown between his black eyebrows. “Lilawen was a prodigy. It’s disconcerting to discover you so lacking.”
A combination of defensiveness and curiosity put words on my tongue, but I swallowed them before I could reply and make things worse.
Still, questions churned in my mind. He’d said my mother was a thief and a liar.
How did either of those things make her a prodigy?
His disappointment in me was less mystifying.
He’d been furious when I’d failed to drain Alon.
Rasimir’s green eyes lingered on me a moment longer. Then he spun and stalked toward the rear of the office. “Bring her,” he called over his shoulder.
Lorcan took my elbow and propelled me forward. We skirted the edge of one of the staircases and caught up with Rasimir as he pulled a book from one of the shelves. The entire bookcase shifted, revealing a hidden opening. Rasimir stepped into it, and Lorcan pushed me after him.
A twisting staircase plunged straight downward. Small white orbs bobbed above torches on the wall. Rasimir descended, his steps light and sure. My stomach pitched as Lorcan nudged me to follow. Holding my skirts in tight fists, I held my breath and obeyed.
Within moments, my world narrowed to the hovering orbs, the back of Rasimir’s head, and the sound of our footsteps on the stone.
The twisting stairs went on forever, drawing us down, down, down.
Dizziness assailed me, but I gritted my teeth and kept going, willing my feet to find purchase on the narrow steps.
The air grew cooler. The orbs danced as we passed, their gentle bobbing a sharp contrast to the staccato click of our shoes against the stone.
Hunger clawed at me, and the muscles in my legs turned jittery.
Just when I considered throwing caution to the wind and asking Rasimir to stop, the staircase ended, and we stepped into a stone corridor.
A guard stationed before a pair of black metal doors executed a sharp salute. “Majesty,” he barked. “How may I assist?”
“Open the fucking door,” Lorcan said behind me.