Chapter 10 #2
“Increase our guards at the border. When the Witch-King learns of this, he’ll see it as a weakness.”
“Somebody find Wella!”
But I hear nothing else as I’m carried far, far away.
* * *
Captain Wellcrest places me on my feet outside a set of double doors decorated with silver and iron ivy wrapped around the perimeter of the doorframe. Light from the wall sconces illuminates his concerned face as he gently informs me, “I do not enter the monarch’s chambers unless directly asked.”
I incline my head. “Thank you for your kindness. I am sorry… about the king.” An awkward moment passes. “Were you two close?”
A curt nod in return. “I wanted to come to you when you fell from the tower—but the king needed me in those final moments.” Sorrow etches into the warrior’s face.
I don’t know how to respond, and I’m terrible at comforting people, so I say nothing.
A commotion rings out at the end of the darkened corridor. A clattering of armor and voices rises in argument. Wellcrest pulls his sword, which shimmers in the dim light. His lips curl upward. “Your chamber doors are magic-fortified. No one can gain access once they’re locked.”
Pandemonium rings out from the looming darkness of the hallway. Screaming echoes off the stone walls. Gooseflesh rises along my hairline.
“Help them. I’ll be okay,” I urge, wanting the horrible noises to stop.
“I need to alert the Queensguard to ready their stations. Whatever you do, please remember to lock your door and wait for your sentry and maids. If you need me, let them know.” Wellcrest unlocks the latch, and a loud thud scrapes against the door, but he stops before opening it.
He whispers a final warning: “There are dark powers at play. Before they crown you, trust no one.”
My stomach churns.
The door swings open to reveal the royal suite of chambers in all its decadent glory. Richly made furniture sprawls out in its murky depths.
When I turn to thank him, the captain is already gone, but that’s fine by me because I can only concentrate on one thing.
Bed.
I need to sleep before I can do anything.
A draft of cool air snakes along my body. The fireplace burns low, and I’m not surprised to find Balor sits in the wingback chair before it. He doesn’t even bother to stoke the dying embers.
“What a situation you’ve got yourself into, my pet,” he says, kicking off his boots. He’s washed the dried blood from his face and given himself a fresh shave, in typical fashion.
Memories come rushing back now that we’re alone once more.
My scalp still hurts from when Balor’s grip twisted in my hair, and the side of my cheek throbs where it crashed into the table.
Worst of all is recalling his promises before the window.
Remembering everything sends a poisonous rip through my already broken heart.
“What are you doing here?” I choke out, agitated that he assumes I would want him near me.
“Why do you think?” He chuckles, smiling as if nothing is wrong.
“I’m getting ready for bed. The night a king dies is the most precarious time for a new monarch’s reign.
Who knows what might happen…” His eyes blacken as he stares at me, the pupils seeming to move.
“It isn’t safe without me here to protect you.
” A chill runs through my veins—he’s planning something.
Balor rises and saunters closer, his palms out as if offering me peace. I step back, stumbling over the tasseled edge of the plush rug. “I don’t need anything from you. Not anymore.”
“I’m your Keeper.”
“You heard the king. I have no Keeper.”
“A dying man’s ramblings. That’s not what you’ve known, what you desire, what you crave—”
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
“Ah… I see the crown changes you already.” His eyes dart to the circlet tangled in my hair.
My fingernails clink against the Alexra as my hands fly to protect it. It vibrates in response. “Why would I allow you here after you took my Rite away? After what you did in that drawing room?”
“Lovers fight. Lovers make up. How do you suppose marriages last a lifetime? Don’t tell me you’re that dense.” He adds, “See? You need me.”
Every muscle in my body aches, exhaustion weighing me down. I can’t think straight, let alone deal with him. “Leave. Now.” I point to the door, my finger shaking. My arm falls from a lack of strength.
“Is this the gratitude I get?”
“You heard me—”
His lips curve into a cruel smile. “You’ll always belong to me. I paid for your bloody maidenhead; you were such a sweet and fun thing when you were a debutante—but now look at you.”
My heart pounds against my ribcage.
“Things will only get better if you allow me to help you. You won’t last a day against the bureaucracy of the High Council without someone on the inside. You know this.”
“If you don’t leave, I’ll—”
“Do what? Call who? The guard isn’t here yet, and Wellcrest is busy recalling the rest of his men to the castle.
Considering the entire kingdom is drunk on rum, I have a feeling it will be hours before he returns.
” My stomach plummets. His pupils dilate even further.
“Or do you spurn me because you’ve been fucking somebody else and you’re waiting for him? Hmm?”
Cold sweat trickles down my spine. I hesitate. “That’s a lie. You know it isn’t true.” My body begins to shiver.
He rubs my arms to warm them while he speaks so softly that it sounds like a threat. “Some will try to bend you to their political ambitions, but I won’t let them.”
The whispers inundate my ears—raspy and impatient.
“Stop,” I mumble.
He does not.
Balor seizes my shoulders with both hands as he purses his lips and moves to meet mine in a determined motion. A fuzzy blackness overwhelms the corners of my vision until I think I’ll faint.
“Get-the-fuck-out!” The voice emerging from my throat is different and accompanied by a vibrating force of magic that hurls him into the wall next to the doorway. He crumples to the ground but quickly crawls to his feet.
Panting, he gives me a deadly look. “Just wait…” With a jerk, he flings open the chamber door. The sentry, who happens to be there after all, shoots him a glare of surprise, but that doesn’t stop Balor from slinking past.
After barring the latch, I slump onto the rug near the fireplace cinders and sob. Tears dot the floor until sleep takes me.
Sometime before morning, I awake with a jolt in the four-poster bed and sit up. My glow flickers rapidly.
And then it extinguishes.
I slip back into the stack of feathery pillows and allow slumber to pull me under once more—dreaming of a storm battering a ghostly white ship across the rolling, massive waves.