7.
Heather
I never thought of myself as a damsel.
Hell, my whole life, I’ve chased the shadow of my mother; independent, brave, someone who doesn’t need anyone to survive. But this is the second time I’ve been kidnapped in a two-year period and my #bossbabe mentality is fading with every second I spend in this room. Something about the way the walls curve makes me feel exposed. Even at my peak, when I was under the brightest flash of cameras, I always craved the cozy corners of my home. With Moth, it’s like having a shadow to rest in wherever I go.
But here, this corner-less room lacks safety and all I want is to be home.
My ability to transform is more of a faulty party trick if nothing else, and it’s not like I can do much. My nails get a little longer, sure, but I can’t shift like Moth or fight with swords like Holly. That attempt was laughable, and something I don’t want to repeat anytime soon.
To get out of this, I’m going to have to think outside the box.
He can’t have me, but King Magnus wouldn’t have done all this if he wasn’t pathetically lonely. That might be something I can work with. Right now, the only weapon in this room that I know how to wield is my cellphone—and it’s dead. I don’t suppose I’m going to find a charger under the random swords and books. God, so many books . There are instruments too, some I don’t even know the names for.
The more I look around, the more this tower reminds me of the spare room of someone who goes to the craft store once a month to pick up a new hobby after abandoning the old ones. Or, perhaps, the last person who was in this tower had a lot of time to kill. I cringe at the thought that I might be the next hobby he’s decided to add to his cart. Pacing, I slip my hand into my pocket.
Despite my stubbornness, I bathed and changed into one of the gowns waiting in the closet for me. It’s a silky blush color with dramatic flowy sleeves and a nipped waist. It’s not as ornate as anything worn in the Moth Court but undeniably beautiful. Also, it shockingly has pockets, which is a perfect place for me to keep the tiny Mothman keychain I’d been using as a phone charm. I even tied a purple ribbon from the centerpieces to the keyring to try to make it more festive. I run the pad of my thumb across it as I pace the room. It’s silly—I knew it when I impulse bought it in Point Pleasant, and I know it now—but it offers comfort.
I wonder if, by now, he knows I’m missing.
The sharp sound of the lock unbolting makes me jolt, and when Magnus steps inside I curse myself for stepping away from him. I wish I could say I’m not afraid of him, but I’m tired of lying to myself. The last time I was kidnapped, I almost died, and the parallels to this situation are not lost on me. I was nice to Chris—too nice. Sometimes I think I might have led him on, but that’s beside the point. He thought he was saving me and so does Magnus.
The vampire king holds a golden tray with two goblets and one plate. My stomach practically lunges forward, growling and demanding sustenance after a night of sugary drinks and desserts. To this, Magnus smiles, setting the tray down on the small table near the door.
“It seems my presence is not entirely unwanted.” He smirks. God, I hate my stomach for drawing attention to how freaking hungry I am.
I wonder if Magnus knows that humans eat three times a day—and snacks are appreciated.
“I’m surprised it’s not stale bread and water,” I mumble, crossing my arms. I push the plate away despite the angry, hollow feeling in my stomach. He can’t be trusted, even if this is all a misunderstanding. For all I know, it’s been seasoned with a love potion and one bite will be my doom.
“My sweet, we both know you can’t have bread. I have done my research,” Magnus says, easing into one of the chairs. He gestures for me to take a seat opposite him. “The staff have been briefed on your medical conditions and dietary restrictions. Your medication will be restocked as soon as what is in your purse runs out.” His purple eyes flick up to meet mine, molten and wanting something I’m unwilling to give.
Gratification.
“You bring it with you always, don’t you?” He rises, pacing the room with long strides, keeping his eyes trained on me. “For fear of being stuck on the wrong side of the portal with no way of getting a refill…”
How does he know that?
“It seems you’ve thought of everything to equip my personal prison with,” I seethe. He … stalked me? I don’t know if it was simple gossip or if he’s been following me, but I am totally, completely creeped out right now.
People talk.
He said as much when I first arrived. Given my former job, I’m aware you need to be careful. Drama can start with the smallest comment, the littlest glance, but whatever this is? It’s so far beyond that. This dude has been straight up stalking me.
“You’re not a prisoner.” He frowns. Sensing that his nearness is creating the wrong kind of tension, he takes a few steps away from me.
“Oh!” I shout with mock enthusiasm, walking toward the door. Throwing it open, I note that while I can see a large staircase, it ripples like I’m looking through glass. “Great, let me just head back home then. Since you’re not keeping me here in a windowless cell or anything.”
Curiously, I tap at the doorway and sure enough it’s as firm as stone. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.
“Seriously?” I say crossing my arms.
“I could not have you leaving before learning my merits.” Magnus’s eyes meet mine, and I wish I could tell what he was thinking. “But I assure you it is not windowless.” He crosses the room and yanks open the locked window—the one with the big wooden bar on it—open with ease. Huh. I guess it was less of a bar and more of a latch—like a hurricane shutter or something.
“This thing has always been sticky,” he says casually. Wind blows into the space, cool and fresh, but I keep focused on the opening. When it comes to windows, it’s a big one. Sure, I might be underestimating the width of my hips, but I’m pretty sure I could easily fit through it, and best of all it doesn’t look like there’s any magic around it.
I could bide my time and win his trust, sure, but yeeting myself out the window? Yeah, that feels like a better plan I lunge for it but am easily blocked.
“Wait!” Magnus says, reaching for my hand. He falls short, the whisper of his fingers gliding over my palm without the resolve to take hold. “You may not find the others in the shadows as kind as I am…”
The what?
“I don’t find you particularly kind. I think I’ll take my chances.”
But his tall body blocks the window. There’s a nervousness to him that is strange in a way I can’t put my finger on. Why does he seem so jittery?
“Please—” he begs. “I need you to stay here—for your own safety.”
Huh.
I get that the faerie realm has dangers I don’t understand—heck, I don’t even know what being “in the shadows” means. Besides, the space I can see beyond his body seems cloaked in mist. Totally not ominous at all.
However, there’s something else going on here, something he’s not telling me. Whatever it is makes his cheeks flush pink and his eyes dart nervously toward the window. Magnus regrets opening it. My question is… why?
I push past him to get a better look. Wow . When he called it “the shadows,” he wasn’t kidding. The sky is dark, with a fog that obscures any details of where we are. The forest is looming and dead. Then my eyes fall onto a short vampire woman walking into the castle on a dark stone path--carrying a floral centerpiece as large as she is.
“What is that for?” I ask, the breath tight in my lungs.
“The court expects a wedding.” His face is flushed and pleading, only inches from mine. “ Our wedding.”
A fed-up laugh escapes my lips.
“That’s why you won’t let me go? You want to save face?” I take another step closer to the window, pushing him away with all my strength. “Hey everyone, guess what?!” I shout down from the tower, but his large hand clamps over my mouth. With a thud, the window shuts.
“Come now, sweet Heather… you will learn that both this domain and I have our charms. Live a life with me surrounded by old tomes and comfort.” His tone contains a desperate plea.
“Have you met my husband?” I ask, my cheeks reddening at the slip. Moth and I aren’t married yet, but the title feels so right.
“Considering I plan on being him by the end of the week, I’d say quite intimately.” He leans against the window, barring me from opening it and… God, he’s annoying.
“Moth literally reads, makes tea—” Kisses every inch of my body “—and scribbles in his notebook all day.”
“Huh.” He blinks, studying me as if to detect a lie. “From his appearance in Eclipsica last year, I expected him to be into duels and brooding.”
“You can’t judge someone from one meeting,” I say. “Example: when we met, I thought you seemed like an okay guy.”
He brightens as if expecting a compliment.
“Now I see you’re a total asshole,” I say, breaking the long stretch of silence.His smile falters for a moment before the mask slips back into place.
“You don’t mean that.” He shuffles back toward the door. “Now, please… your body needs sustenance. If my company is too unnerving, eat in my absence. Away from the window, if you please.”
“Wait!” I catch his arm. He looks back, face ablaze with the sudden contact. I drop my grasp.
Think, Heather. Think.
There’s got to be a way to get yourself out of this.
What is something the human realm has taught you that these faeries and creatures don’t have?
“Yes?” He leans in, his fangs on full display as he grins widely, unashamed by his own enthusiasm.
“You want a queen, right?” I begin slowly, the pieces of possibly the silliest suggestion snapping together in my head. “What if I told you there was a different way to go about it than kidnapping unsuspecting women?”
“I want you ,” he says.
“No—you don’t, not really.” I scramble to figure out my next words. “You want arm candy, someone unknown to your court that they can all be dazzled by.”
He leans back, appraising the idea. “Then what do you suggest?”
“We make a deal.”
“A deal?” He raises a brow “You want to make a bargain with me?”
I nod. It’s a formal way to say it, but yeah, if he’ll hear me out, I’m sure this is going to work.
“What if I told you there’s a way you can meet someone without formally courting them? Someone who will know nothing about this whole situation?” I ask, gesturing between us.
“I’m listening.” And he is—his eyes are trained on me like a snake looking at a field mouse. He hangs on every word, ready to pounce depending on my answer.
“I will find you someone else—someone who isn’t from your court or mine—to fall in love with.”
“In the time before the wedding,” he adds, swallowing hard. “Until then, you will remain in this castle—or close to my side.”
“Unless you come to your senses and let me go,” I say. “Which is the preferable option, just making that clear.”
He nods, suddenly appearing more formal. “If you cannot find me a different bride, you will admit your defeat and become mine.”
I hesitate. As confident as I am in the harebrained plan that’s beginning to form, there’s no way I’d actually marry this guy. But, if I get access to my phone, I can contact Moth—and what’s the harm in one little empty promise? Especially if it gains me time.
I extend my hand, and he looks … wary. As if he’s knows this is all a trap.
“You are certain of this?” he asks just before his hand meets mine. He’s planning on keeping me here until I agree to marry him regardless, right? At least this will give me an edge.
“Absolutely,” I say, and that’s all it takes for his hand to cup mine in a firm shake.
“Then the bargain is struck,” he says. At those words, my chest feels just as tangled as a necklace found at the bottom of a purse. “Now, tell me, what is your brilliant plan?”
I meet the predator’s gaze, moving across the room to grab my cellphone from the place it’s been hidden behind my pillow. “I’m going to need a charger.”