Chapter 5
Chapter
Her hand is my anchor.
Her heart, my refuge.
And I’m to deliver them both
To him.
Prince Thoren Charming.
I make for the open arched windows that line the hall and double over, putrid bile rising in my throat.
The acid burns my nose, forcing tears to stream down my cheeks.
I gasp for breath, only to lose it as my insides try to purge every sordid memory of that man from my mind.
A single name should not elicit such a visceral reaction, but his is not just a name.
It’s a history I wish never to see repeated.
I’m not sure which is the first to fall.
My heart or my knees. The cold checkered floor welcomes me wholly all the same, promising to numb all the parts of myself that I have yet to give away.
God, how I want to sink into the marble, become one with the stones.
Forget what it is to be made of flesh and bone.
How much of myself must I be forced to live without before there is nothing left to live with?
I choke on the strangled sob that’s wrenched its way free with the rest of my stomach’s contents, when a pair of sturdy hands encircle my crumpled body.
With almost no effort at all they hoist me upright, away from the green and yellow mess.
Thunder and lightning rip through the night. The perfect backdrop to the shattering of all that remains.
My life.
My future.
My heart.
“I’m here, princess.” Rhidland pulls me close, his voice low as he wraps one of my arms around his armored neck, securing his hold with a steady hand at my waist. “I’ve got you.”
The twins take up position both in front and behind us as Rhidland brings me to my feet, probably to hide the undignified manner I find myself in. My hair pins loosened. My makeup ruined. Tiny rancid yellow spots littering my new gown.
I look every bit the beast the realm claims I am. And worse yet, we are more than a little late now. Though, if any of the men are concerned about the time, they don’t show it.
Their steel helmets are pulled down over their faces and their eyes are cast astray.
Why they’ve made no attempt to move me, to curry my father’s favor, makes my chest thrum with suspicion.
Perhaps they pity me. Maybe they know of my past with the prince.
Or it could be that they’re just giving me time.
Time to fall apart. To grieve. To sit with the dream I lived long enough to see it corrupted.
All while grappling with the one question I never allowed myself to ask.
What have I done to deserve such exceptional cruelty?
I shudder in my old guard’s arms.
I doubt I should ever know why the Evil Queen marked my life the one to pay. Not that knowing would make any difference in how this all has to end. A life for a life after all.
“Should you wish to turn back, I could look the other way.” Rhidland’s voice is but a gentle whisper in my ear.
I turn at his words, and in his ever devoted eyes I find a question.
I want to nod. To scream. To turn around and run until I reach the top of the harpoon-tipped mountains surrounding the Kingdom of Ruin. Far from the festering rot that’s sunken its roots into every wall. Far from the prince who is nothing like his namesake.
My feet hesitate when thunder booms overhead, a shot of lightning crackling somewhere in the distance.
I think of Xander then. Of all the nights when we were little when he’d run into my bedroom to protect me from the storms. Funny thing was, they never scared me.
But I let him believe they did, because I knew he’d never admit he was the one who was afraid.
Just as he is now, with his love locked away in the dungeons below.
No. Putting this off, running away, is not an option. Neither is the luxury of dreaming such things. It is my turn to brave the storm. “If Father believes that my marrying the prince is necessary to break the curse, then that is exactly what I’ll do.”
Though death would have been kinder.
I stand at the threshold of all I’ve endured, of what is yet to come, the long narrow dining hall stretched out before me.
Dozens of empty tables collect dust and cobwebs on either side, beneath boarded up windows that once beamed with light.
At the hall’s end, the king’s table waits, adorned in black cotton drabs and Mother’s finest silver. What’s left of it, at least.
Beyond that, a fire roars in the rocky mantelpiece. The chairs, too tall for me to see over, hide who sit at Father’s table. But the sound of Mother’s drunken laughter tells me the king and queen are not alone.
Thick black bottles of tannic red wine litter the floor.
They were brought up from Father’s personal cellar, a small room in which all of the Kingdom of Ruin’s riches now sit.
One rarely visited apart from very special occasions.
To think Father sees this as one of those times sits like a stone in the pit of my stomach, but I push past it.
I don’t need a repeat of what happened in the hall, especially with no knights for me to hide behind.
I take one step forward, and then another.
The fire has barely warmed my skin when a shiver creeps down my spine.
I rub my hands down my arms, but the pin-prick sensation only grows as I get closer to the dais.
My eyes begin to roam of their own accord, searching the backs of chairs for the source of my unease. For—
“Hello, Beastie.”
Him.
I stop, but don’t dare turn. The firm muscles of his abdomen flex against my back, his warm breath tickling the nape of my neck as he inhales.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, voice low. Too low. I have to strain to hear him over the pounding in my chest, made worse by the large fingers raking their way up my neck into my loosened updo. Gently twisting and pulling until a single curl breaks free. “I missed you.”
I recoil from his touch, nearly gagging at the overwhelming smell of mint. “Aren’t there any girls for you to torment back home?” The words slip out before I can think better of them.
We both freeze, stunned by my outburst. Did I really just ask him that? Out loud? Of all the vile things to leave my mouth tonight, this I regret the most.
He tugs hard on the curl still wrapped around his finger.
“I’m sorry,” I yelp.
Tightening his grip, he forces my head back, exposing my neck to the cold air, relishing in the way I squirm beneath his hold.
A single breath, and my flesh would meet where his lips hover dangerously over the scar peeking from beneath my ribbon.
“You’re not sorry. But you will be.”
The sound of glass hitting the floor has both our heads snapping in its direction.
“Ah, Sunday! Look at you!”
My mother all but falls from her seat reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine. Her fingers knock it and it clatters to the ground, but she only laughs, her words slurring and tangled.
The prince drops his hand, and I jump at the opportunity to put distance between us. But as I’m rushing to Mother’s side, I’m reminded she is not alone at the table. Seated opposite my parents are the rulers of the Kingdom of Riches: Lucius and Aurelia Charming.
Their gazes are fixed on me with equal measures of curiosity and disgust dancing across their prim features.
Compared to their family’s perfectly bronzed skin, draped in a rich mosaic of color and adorned with the realm’s finest jewels, I must be a terrifying sight indeed.
With little to hide my pale blue skin or the scars that mark my family’s burden to break the curse, I am little more than a ghost that haunts these halls.
How I’m ever to find a place in their kingdom—in their home, when I barely fit in here—is beyond my comprehension.
Yet nothing rattles me more than the disappointment waiting for me in Father’s eyes.
“We were beginning to worry something might have happened.”
There’s a practiced show of emotion splashed across his face, his hardened features not accustomed to the warmth his words portray.
“How fortunate for you the prince was willing to forfeit a hot meal to ensure you made it safely.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, surveying my freshly soiled dress. “It would seem his generosity truly knows no bounds.”
I stare confused for only a moment. Then every muscle in my body tenses.
“It was no trouble at all.” Thoren sweeps his dark locks out of his eyes, brushing off Father’s praise.
But I don’t miss the mischievous glint in those deep honeyed pools.
“We all have our nerves about what’s to come.
But I’d bet most of it’s out of her system now.
” He smiles wide and my heartbeat stutters at the revelation.
He saw. He was watching.
A million questions race through my mind as I follow my Father’s quiet instruction to take my seat beside the smug looking prince. Does he know that I know? Did he overhear Rhidland offer to help me escape?
Something heavy forms in my chest at the thought of what Father might do to my guardian should he ever find out where Rhidland’s true loyalties lie.
I stare at the bloodied meat before me, imagining the worst, when a large hand grabs my thigh beneath the table.
I suck in a sharp breath, panic thick in my throat. The Prince’s fingers dig into the flesh just beneath my satin gown.
I chance a look in his direction to find him already staring, his lips twisted into a menacing grin. That’s when it clicks. Why Father had called him generous. Why he looked so confused at the sight of me in this dress.
This gift was not from Father.
Slowly, so as not to draw attention from the kings and queens engrossed with the feast, the prince leans in, dropping his voice so that only I can hear it.
“I do so love to see you in red.”
I stiffen, hating the way I can feel his laughter between my legs as the worst night of my life replays behind my sealed eyes. “Brings back such fond memories.”