Iona
The chains were not a terrible price for an element of freedom.
The castle had strong bones, but many sections were neglected or sealed off.
Borin’s little grunts of disapproval guided me to areas that were forbidden.
He had remained silent when I tried to open a locked door.
It was only when I looked at him that I realised that he was paralysed with fear.
He shook his head with vigour.
“Master kill. Not open door. Never open door,” he rasped and grabbed the chain linking my hands to pull me away. “Never. Master kill.”
Yet I could not resist looking at the door. Borin’s master was planning my demise regardless of whether I opened that door or not.
“Why are you still alive, Borin?” I asked as I followed him.
“Because Borin is good,” he snapped as he dropped my chain when he realised that I was following him. “And Master give Borin tonic.”
“A tonic to live longer?”
He refused to answer, but his incessant muttering made me smile. He suddenly stopped.
“Borin said too much. Bad Borin,” he cried and turned to the wall and began to beat his head off it.
The second dull thud made me move. I placed my hand between him and the wall. He scuttled away and began again.
“No, Borin. Stop this. Borin is good. This is our secret,” I said, trying to grab his head before it hit the wall.
His head slipped from my fingers and I winced at the sound.
“I promise not to tell anyone, Borin. I will be dead soon.”
He paused mid-lament.
“Borin like,” he whispered.
“I like you too,” I sighed and eased him away from the wall. “Now show me the way to the dining room.”
? ? ?
My hands were clasped as I thanked the gods for the food and my ancestors for their sacrifices. My eyes were still closed when I heard the heavy footsteps against wood. I knew that I was about to face the monster in the castle.
The sound grew closer and my heart beat faster. The scent of the food before me, appetising only moments ago, no longer stirred my hunger.
Praying became begging for strength. My hands clasped tighter, fingers digging into my own skin.
I opened my eyes when the footsteps stopped.
I immediately wished that they had remained closed.
He was so tall that he blocked the lamplight from the wall behind him, and for a moment I faced only his shape against the dark.
His hair was dark brown, but I could not tell where it ended and the beard began.
The tunic barely contained his hulking form.
He was not human. Mayhap at one time he might have been, but no longer. I searched what remained of his face for some trace of that man, but found nothing to hold onto.
There was no colour in his eyes. It was a black void.
A beast.
He was an accursed beast.
I allowed my eyes to follow the line of his arm. The hair and claws made me close my eyes again. The black claws shone as brightly as his eyes.
Dark and empty.
Hollow.
Every story about the hollow king could be true. I understood the villagers’ fear and why they happily sent a sacrifice to their death once a year.
The chair scraped against the wood and I did not open my eyes again until I felt the chair creak under the beast’s weight.
Borin appeared from the shadows by his side and placed a plate in front of his master. There was no one like Borin—not in his form, but in his devotion.
So how could his master be a complete monster?
“Serve us, Borin.”
I almost gasped at the sound of his voice. It was low and gruff, but filled with impatience and irritation. I suspected that he did not talk often.
“Yes, Master,” Borin purred and eagerly began to raise the covers to the food.
I had so many questions and I could not tell if it was fear or astonishment that held my tongue.
“Eat well, human. It will make my eventual meal far more nourishing.”
Borin slapped a large hunk of meat onto his master’s plate.
So he was fattening me up. I thought he offered me a final meal upon my arrival, but kindness did not touch his soul. His eyes only held contempt when he looked at me. I did not take it personally since his hatred of humans was well documented.
I reached for the food that Borin had placed on my plate. The iron cuffs scraped along the wooden table.
King Varga was already tearing a chunk of meat off the bone he held. His lips and beard were already coated with the juices. I stared at the cutlery for a moment and decided to use my hands.
There was no point in remaining polite and dignified.
After tonight, I had five more days left.
I ate, but did not taste the meal. I barely chewed before swallowing. The passage of time seemed to alter and suddenly my plate was empty.
The question continued to gnaw at me and it grew louder.
I had to know.
“How are you still alive, King Varga?” I asked.
He paused from wiping his mouth and beard. Beneath the thick beard, I noticed the pale blue and gold embroidery around the lower fastening on his tunic.
“Do you think that I would tell a filthy human?” he snarled, tossing the cloth on the table. “Is that why they sent you?”
The fury in his voice made my blood freeze and I took a moment to calm my nerves.
“I owe no fealty to my kind,” I whispered.
Silence came and stretched between us, but I held onto his gaze.
He slowly rose from his chair, his black eyes never leaving mine.
“Bring her to my bedchamber, Borin.”
I wanted to scream no, but this time my bravery might have cost me the few days that I had left. I closed my eyes and listened to the retreating footsteps.