Chapter 10
Ten
IRRETRIEVABLE
Iwoke up refreshed and well-rested.
There were no shadows to summon me this morning. Daylight flooded my empty chambers.
Quiet. Still.
As if nothing had even happened last night.
Goddammit, Rabb.
I buried my face in my pillow at the warmth creeping up my neck and my face while every rational thought, warning, and consequence came crashing back into my mind like a rebellious tempest.
Was that simply another dream?
It couldn’t be. I shook my head as I got up. If it were, it would have been the most vivid of them all. My legs were still jelly, making it a struggle to get myself cleaned up and changed. I threw my lab coat back on.
I studied the gleaming hairclip in my hand for a moment. Hope whispered in my heart once again. Even if last night meant absolutely nothing to him, it was confirmation—finally. It was undeniable proof.
Rabb did remember. He remembered his life before he was crowned king. He remembered having been with me. He remembered us.
I gathered my hair up to fix it and slipped my hairpin back on.
The next conundrum to tackle being then—why was Rabb acting this way? Was my theory correct? Was something or someone simply compelling him to act like a monster? Was he desperately trying to fight off another evil spell?
I would be more than willing to unravel the mystery and help him find a solution. I was sure I could do it.
It was odd that I hadn’t been summoned at all this morning. There must not have been any interrogations planned.
I peeked through the crack in my door at the dim hallways—empty, as usual. But I was glad to be free to wander around the castle during the day for once.
Strange that the hallways were about as dark as they were at night, even in the day.
The castle décor was remarkably sparse. Aside from the few torches lining the walls, one or two tapestries of lions lazing amidst meadows, the only other things of note were the several framed paintings.
One particular worn, gilded frame cradled a portrait of a king, a queen, and their young prince, all dressed in their finery, their smiles serene and untouched.
But the longer I looked, the more the light seemed wrong, their joy dimmed by an unseen grief creeping backward through time, staining the image with the memory of what was to come.
The painting shimmered in a hazy distortion. I narrowed my eyes, as for a moment, the entire wall before me seemed to bend and fold. “What…”
When I blinked again, the wall righted itself. The painting hung still. Not even a subtle breeze blew through the halls. I looked around the hallway. No doubt the eerie castle was playing tricks with my eyes.
I spun around to walk away. Turning a corner, I found myself in the western wing, shadowed by towering windows and black stone arches. The torches burned low in their iron brackets, their flames wavering as if uncertain whether they wished to stay.
I hadn’t been in this part of the castle before.
My ears pricked at muffled sounds from the end of the hall. Wailing cries, arguing voices, the scrape of something heavy against stone echoed beyond the next bend.
My curiosity immediately overruled my better judgment. My boots echoed softly against the polished floor as I approached.
The corridor ended at a heavy oak door. It stood slightly ajar, a thin slice of flickering light spilling into the hall.
Because I had clearly learned absolutely nothing about avoiding danger in magical tyrant castles, I leaned forward and peered through the crack.
The air was thick with the stale, dusty scent of neglect amidst the cold stone of the room.
Broken furniture lay strewn like forgotten bones beneath torn drapery and claw-scarred walls.
Candlesticks, brassware, weapons, and leather were scattered across a wooden table, with one lone lantern casting uneven light across the space.
The Wicked King stood with his back partially to the door, tall and rigid, his dark coat almost blending into the sweep of shadows at his feet.
A man hung in his grip. Literally.
He had the man by the collar of his ragged tunic, one hand fisted in the fabric at his throat, lifting him so high that his boots dangled several inches above the floor.
The elderly man’s hair was streaked with grey and plastered damply against his forehead. Dirt and bruises marked his face. Blood darkened the corner of his mouth, even as he whimpered, “Please—please, Your Majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.”
The king’s retort was mocking. “Mercy? Hasn’t the entire kingdom learned yet that I possess no such thing?”
He certainly didn’t bother mincing words. Terror gripped my entire body from the pure menace in his unforgiving tone, the unfathomable void in his dark eyes. I almost couldn’t even catch my breath.
The king shook the man. “Tell me who sent you.”
The man’s livid eyes sharpened for a moment.
He gave a hacking cough. “This will not end with me. We are the weeds in your kingdom’s soil—tear us out, burn us, salt the earth, and still we will return, rooting ourselves in cracks you cannot see.
We will make sure you and your witch pay for everything you have done. ”
He tilted his head slightly, studying him with a cold, thoughtful expression. “Perhaps.” His fingers tightened. The man’s breath hitched as the king lifted him a little higher, his boots kicking uselessly in the air. Then he released his grip. A puppet with its strings cut.
The man barely had time to suck in a breath before the entire room flooded with darkness for the blink of an eye. The Wicked King’s shadows, like swift whispering blades, ripped through the man, followed by dull thumps as hunks of flesh fell to the floor.
A waft of putrid stench nearly made me retch. I slapped my hand over my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to close my eyes against the horror.
His Royal Majesty stood over the bloody mess, his face hard and unreadable, before turning toward the door. Our eyes met through the narrow opening. The shock that jolted through me must have shown plainly on my face. He didn’t look surprised to see me.
I pushed the door open before I could stop myself. “What did you—? You just—” The words burst out of me, my voice shaking as I stepped into the room. “How could you do that?” My eyes dropped to the body on the floor before snapping back to him. “He was begging for his life.”
“What of it?”
My jaw dropped. “What of it?” I echoed mockingly. “How many people have you already sent to their deaths since I have been here? Most of them have done nothing to you. You really will kill all the innocent people around you until there is no one left, won’t you?”
“Innocent?” he scoffed. “That man was not innocent.”
This powerful, menacing man standing before me—the ruthless calm in his voice, the grisly heaps of flesh at his feet—clashed violently with every memory I still carried.
Clashed with the vivid recollection of what had so very recently happened between us.
Clashed with the tiniest spark of hope in my soul.
My stomach turned again. The king wasn’t under some spell. He had willingly chosen violence at every turn. He was incredibly in control of all his faculties.
And I was an idiot.
I almost choked on the words. “You really are a monster.”
His grin was all too self-assured. “I’m entirely confused as to how you thought otherwise. I’m an assassin. I know nothing else. And it is not up to you to decide how criminals are punished in my kingdom. I am the king.”
That statement stabbed my chest.
“But I thought you were…”
His eyebrow rose. “You thought what?”
I bit my lip before I blurted out my foolish thoughts. Heaving, I couldn’t help asking, “What about last night?”
My stomach turned at the tilt of amusement on his lips.
Shifting on his feet, he offered a sickeningly arrogant smile. “I only thought you needed a bit of release. I suspected that you hadn’t been touched since I left you. Or was my assumption incorrect?”
I clenched my jaw. “Your assumption is irrelevant.”
He waved a hand carelessly. “Your aura was getting weaker by the day. I could tell you hadn’t been sleeping or eating. What use would you be to me if you were not in proper health?”
The notion stole my breath.
The Wicked King had manipulated me into eating and sleeping. I supposed I would have been truly useless as a tool if I were exhausted and starving.
My cheeks flamed. I had let myself be completely fooled. How could I have even thought that there might be redemption for the Wicked King? Had my presence here not even made any impact whatsoever?
My expression soured. “Have you still been sending the prisoners to their deaths?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “That is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” I cried out. “It would have been none of my business if you hadn’t summoned me and forced me to interrogate prisoners for days.
I would have been perfectly happy to stay out of it.
” I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
“I-I’m not doing this anymore. I want to leave. ”
His eyes narrowed. “You agreed to our bargain.”
I threw up my hands. “Well, I think I have held up my end well enough. I’m not going to help you turn even more innocent people into dead bodies while I wait for my recompense. I no longer care about getting anything from you. I’m leaving. Right now.”
“You cannot.”
With burning indignation, I turned to meet his gaze, emphasizing my words. “You don’t own me.” I couldn’t stand there for another second. I turned sharply and ran.
“Allie, stop.”
My boots struck the stone floor hard, echoing down the corridor as I fled the chamber. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see his face again—didn’t want to see the cold indifference that had replaced the man I knew.
My heart pounded violently in my chest as I rushed through the dark hallways.
I needed to get away from the castle walls, away from that suffocating room, away from the sight of a body crumpled to the floor beneath his cruel hand.
The massive doors at the back of the castle stood half open, guards nowhere in sight as the late morning fog rolled in. Cold air rushed in through the gap, carrying the scent of damp grass and distant pines.
A slight chill wrapped around me as I burst outside.
Storm clouds loomed above the castle, rising tall and black against the gray sky.
My breath came ragged as I ran across the lawn, skirts tangling around my legs, boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. My eyes lit up at spotting the manicured lawn behind the castle, the clipped hedges, the long gravel paths.
The hedge maze.
I didn’t slow.
If it was still here, it was possible that the passageway out of the castle grounds still existed.
I shot past the entry to the green circuitous garden. I was sure I would be able to navigate the maze, despite there being no guiding stars or landmarks to assist. I merely needed to keep track of where I’d been and work my way through.
At a fork in the path, before I could even ponder which way to go, something gleamed in one corner by the bush. A sparkly fabric ribbon had been tied to a branch by the path to the right.
I almost blew out a breath in huge relief, immediately heading right.
Chez had already been through here. He’d been proactive enough to mark the way out for me.
Breaking into a run, I followed the trail of ribbons that Chez had left.
My lungs burned as I reached the edge of the grounds, the neat lawns giving way to the darker, uneven earth of the forest.
I had finally escaped the castle.
I didn’t want to think of what I’d left behind, what it meant to be running away, what I was going to lose with our bargain broken. How I’d need to find my own way across the river. I should have known I couldn’t rely on anyone else’s help.
Relief filled me when I couldn’t hear the king’s footsteps pursuing me or any of the guards giving chase. There were no shadows streaking out of the castle to reach out and swallow me whole. I needed only to find a rabbit hole that could take me back to my desert, to take me back home.
Branches rustled overhead as I pushed between the trees, leaves crunching beneath my boots, my breathing far too loud.
All at once, a shape detached itself from the darkness. I glimpsed a rough, bearded face, wearing a ragged tunic, similar to that of the man who had been torn to shreds right before my eyes earlier—right before a hand clamped over my mouth.
I screamed against the palm, the sound muffled as another arm locked hard around my waist, hauling me backward.
“Got you,” a rough voice muttered close to my ear.
The words barely registered before something coarse dropped over my head. Darkness swallowed everything. I tried to scream, but it came out strangled, stifled by the thick fabric.
I twisted and kicked, trying to wrench free, but the man holding me was stronger. The ground vanished beneath my feet as he hoisted me over his shoulder.
The world lurched violently as he began moving. Branches slapped against my legs as he pushed through the forest, heavy thuds pounding against the ground with determined strides, even as his grip tightened to carry me deeper into the shadows between the trees.