Melodies of the Damned (Crowns of Gods and Monsters #1)

Chapter 1

One

The Broken Princess

My heels clicked against the polished marble like a countdown I couldn’t escape.

Each step echoed like a cry for help that no one would answer.

After all, broken things were not worth saving.

The guards tracked my every movement, following each restless pace of the corridor.

The sound of my dress hissing against the ground behind me only made my blood rush faster through my veins.

Everything would change tonight, and I knew they were waiting for me to run. Again.

I spun on my heel, circling away from the staircase that yawned like a mouth, waiting to swallow me into the ball below.

Tonight, the court would raise their glasses in celebration.

Their princess was finally serving a purpose.

My hand in marriage would strengthen my father’s alliance with the south, but I did not share the Kingdom’s excitement.

Nor did I care for political gain. Honestly, I’d be thrilled if Father’s Kingdom crumbled, burying him and his precious priest along with it.

But a princess does as she is told. Being the pliable, delicate thing they wanted me to be was the only way to escape.

So, I took deep breaths. But it was cut short by the corset I had been shoved into against my will.

I tugged at the blue silk cinched too tightly around my ribs, as if loosening it might free me from my birthright. If only it were that easy.

Run. Run. Run.

I stilled. The whispers bled from the empty corridor, clawing through my mind with a chill that tore gooseflesh from my skin.

“I will when the time is right,” I muttered, turning to grip the cold iron bars of the window separating me from freedom.

“What was that, Princess?”

I peered over my shoulder at the burly guard wearing my father’s armour.

He crossed his arms over Stonebriar’s emblem: two swords clashing over a crown.

Funny how every man longed for a crown, yet most seemed too weak to wield it.

My father was far from weak, which was why he had held the crown for thirty years, a record in the history of our Kingdom.

“You were speaking to thin air again,” the guard said, glaring at me as if my madness was contagious.

“Perhaps it is you who is hearing things,” I replied sweetly, turning back towards the window.

“Crazy bitch,” he said in a hushed tone to the other guard, who stifled a laugh.

I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to scream at them. No, I needed to bide my time. To smile politely and be a good little puppet.

Once, I had read that love makes a person whole, and in its absence, evil grows. Perhaps that was why darkness churned beneath my skin like the tides battering the cliffs below.

The Dead Sea thrashed against the snowcapped cliffs in the dying light, pulling a longing ache from my chest. It was like the sea had hooked its claws beneath my skin and squeezed.

In mere hours, that cliff would hold the sacred rite of Ascension. Not that I was allowed to attend. I’d been kept inside my gilded cage since I was twelve, after I had run away from my guards, pulled by the waters’ allure, and touched the Dead Sea.

To touch the Dead Sea outside Ascension was to die. It was the god’s curse. For a thousand years our Kingdom had carried that curse. But I didn’t die. Father had the guard who witnessed it hung. I was to never talk of it again.

“You look perfect, Lyra.” Aldric appeared in the reflection of the frost-kissed windowpane.

I startled, dropping my hands from the bars of my prison to greet my brother.

His dark blond hair was neatly combed back, and his brown eyes held mine with quiet concern before flicking away.

He adjusted one of his cufflinks, shifting uncomfortably.

Aldric was the perfect prince, not one thing out of place.

His suit was a flawless cage of starched fabric that he enjoyed wearing.

I forced the delicate, hollow curve of my lips that never reached my eyes. The soft smile seemed to make me more palatable, hiding the monster they tried to bleed from me.

“It is time for you to join us, dear sister. Your betrothed has arrived.”

Reluctantly, I dragged my eyes from the sea to take my brother’s outstretched arm.

Aldric’s grip tightened as we walked towards the staircase, a gesture I assumed was meant to ease my nerves. It didn’t.

“Please behave, Lyra. Just for one night,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music and chatter that grew louder with each step. “We need this alliance.”

I wanted to scoff.

But no, a princess behaves. Or more scars would blemish my skin.

“No, Aldric. It’s every night for the rest of my life,” I said, my voice laced with venom.

He sighed, leading me down the wide marble steps.

The ballroom spread out like a golden wound below us, bleeding wealth and glittering with false promises.

Candlelight shimmered in crystal chandeliers, catching on the wine-stained lips of southerners and the sharpened smiles of northern nobility.

A rare sight, but they were not here just to witness my forced engagement.

No, this was the Ascension Ball. Everyone was here to celebrate before the sacrifices began at midnight. Sacrifices to Gods who had turned their back on us.

Laughter threaded through the string ensemble like poison as eyes tracked my descent. Whispers slithered from below, hissing of the mad, silver-haired princess. I wondered if they were real or from my own unravelling mind. It was hard to tell at times.

“Smile,” Aldric whispered through clenched teeth.

The practised mask slipped over my face as I focused on one step after another.

King Vaylor waited at the base of the stairs; his greying hair gleamed beneath a golden crown with points as sharp as the judgment in his eyes. He was the ruler the Mortal Kingdom feared, but the father I feared more.

The man beside him was handsome in the way most royalty was.

His brown hair was sleeked back, framing an angular face with high cheekbones and a strong jaw.

He almost looked like a prince from a fairytale.

It was a fleeting thought; his eyes crawled over me like groping hands and his teeth flashed in a serpentine smile.

I could feel his ambition; it oozed off him like perfume.

His eyes flicked to my father every few seconds, and I knew I was nothing more than an alliance to the crown.

I paused on the bottom step, looking down at the man who was to be my husband. My mask slipped and venom pooled in my eyes.

Tear the flesh from his bones.

I smirked, wondering if he would whimper while his skin tore like wet parchment.

“Daughter,” King Vaylor warned, his gaze searching for defiance.

The silk of my dress rippled as I curtsied, casting my gaze at the feet of the powerful men who expected me to be weak. Submissive. Always submissive.

“Viscount Barden, I present Princess Lyra Meridian, your betrothed.”

My father’s words shuddered through me like nails dragging against stone. I didn’t want this.

“Her eyes are a little unsettling, but the rest of her is exquisite.” The viscounts voice grated against my nerves, objectifying me. But how could he not when I was forced on a pedestal of perfection? He circled me like a vulture, assessing me as if I were a prized animal.

I longed to claw his eyes out.

“I assume her purity has been preserved for our union?” The viscount asked.

Aldric tensed beside our Father, shifting uncomfortably. He knew the truth about the guards I lured into my bed. Not for love, not even for pleasure, but to reclaim something that had been stolen from me.

Control.

In his quiet way of protecting me, he made them disappear so rumours could not spread, keeping father in the dark. I didn’t care about them anyway, not anymore. I had fallen in love once, and I thought he loved me too, but clearly, I was na?ve.

My father inclined his head with a single, decisive nod, sealing my fate with a gesture. “Wonderful,” my future husband leered, dragging a finger down my cheek.

I flinched, a small movement that I knew would cost me.

He made a disapproving noise, then leant in with a smile that promised pain. “Careful,” he whispered against my ear, the stench of wine curling off his breath. “You will treat me with the respect I deserve, or I will have you punished.”

Anger seared beneath my skin while I fought to keep the docile mask that needed to stay in place to avoid my father’s attention.

Aldric’s pleading eyes caught mine over the viscount’s shoulder, mouthing one word: behave.

My betrothed stepped back with a satisfied smile and raised his voice. “I’ll be expecting a dance, Princess Lyra.”

I curtsied to the man who thought he would soon hold my leash. “Of course, Viscount.”

I dropped my gaze, giving him the same submissive show my father always enjoyed. I was going to use that leash to strangle him if he got too close. My show seemed to please them both, and he bowed before disappearing into the swirling ball gowns.

Aldric re-took my arm before Father could speak.

“Lyra is feeling out of sorts. I shall escort her to the musicians to calm her nerves.”

I hated being spoken about like a crazed woman, but he was right.

My father nodded reluctantly, letting Aldric steer me through the crowd of curious stares.

I hummed with the strings of the orchestra, letting the melody press like balm against my frayed nerves.

“Maybe not tonight, Lyra.” Aldric eyed my body swaying to the music.

“Brother, balls are for dancing.” I grinned at him as I gathered my skirts in my hands.

“Yes, with men who Father tells you to dance with, not by yourself,” he chastised. “It is improper.”

His shoulders tensed as I floated amongst the partnered dancers, twirling through the notes like a ghost revelling in her own funeral.