Chapter 39
Guards were waiting as she’d expected. His face was a familiar flash and then a boot punched into her stomach. Doubled over, she peddled back only to be grabbed and thrown. Caught by the back of her dress, another guard slammed her face into the stone wall. The telltale crunch of her nose echoed inside her skull. Hot blood gushed down her face as tears formed in her eyes. But no matter how it hurt, she didn’t fight back. She let them take their licks and bided her time. Blood continued to gush until she imagined there was no difference between her painted lips and the skin around it.
The guard holding her released her, and this time she stumbled into a chest she knew all too well. Strands of hair tore free of her scalp as the king wrenched her way from his tunic-covered chest. He leered down at her bloodied and wrecked face, saying not a word. Eye to eye, they stared at each other until the sight of his complete lack of remorse ignited her disgust. Lips lifting into a snarl, she refused to play the gentle doll.
He gripped her hair tighter, drops of blood trickled out, soaking into her dark hair. Neck taut, her head was pulled so far back her spine arched.
Garrison made a disappointed sound at the broken, cursed creature in his fist. “Just couldn’t stick to the shadows, could you, girl? Coming here with that dress. Should’ve killed you when it was easy, but I do admit I had plans for you. Your father’s ambitions were always so small—I would’ve used your curse properly.” He sighed and shoved her away into one of his guard’s arms.
Elysia didn’t say a word, but she didn’t flinch from his gaze either. His story was a farce. Even if she had waltzed into the Raven Ball wearing a perfectly mundane dress sewn in the red and black of Kava, she would have ended up exactly here tonight. The king of Kava had walked into this ball with plans to make an example out of the crown prince’s beloved.
He should have known better than to deceive a woman cursed to bend to the whims of whispers.
Mouth full of copper, she swallowed blood, waiting for him to get on with the show. She was dizzy, likely had internal bruising, and wanted to cry from the pain, but none of that mattered. Gage had once told her that there would come a moment she had to choose between her life and her morals. He had been right. That moment had come and gone. She no longer cared who saw her as good or bad, or avoiding the punishment that always seemed to be looming over her head.
Now she aimed for retribution. She bore a lifetime of scars. Physical ones on her body and endless upon her psyche.
She was cursed. The moth women had anointed her marked by death. Asked her if she had heard their god’s call. And now, behind her ear was a tiny skull and pair of dice resting patiently, waiting for her to admit death was her future whether she liked it or not.
The king looked weary but determined. “If Topp didn’t understand me before, then he will now.”
She smiled up at him so pleasantly with her bloodied teeth gleaming. The king flinched and her grin grew wider. “Are we just going to chat all evening, then?”
Garrison let out a scoff and started dragging her back through the halls and into the ballroom. “People behave so strangely right before they die. Thought you’d fight like a wild animal.”
The people of Kava parted, their faces blanching and gaping at the sight before them. Their hero, their king—dragging the prince’s sweetheart by her hair while her red blood dripped down onto the tiled floor.
Winded and gasping for air, Elysia bent awkwardly beside the king as the band came to a terrible halt. Instruments clattered to the ground and chairs screeched as musicians flung themselves away. The king held her on the stage. He wanted everyone to see, to hear, to feel what was to come.
“Garrison.”
The king looked down at her, perplexed that she was speaking. Elysia smirked and stared him dead in the eyes as she raised her voice loud enough for all the room to hear. “How’d you kill her?”
The king blinked, but she kept going.
“Tell the people how you killed your daughter for being born with magic. Did she fight like a wild animal?”
The king’s arm swung so fast she didn’t even see it coming. His palm broke against her cheekbone, her eye instantly swelling from the impact.
She kept going. “Or maybe we should talk about why magic disappeared because no one knows how that happened, right?”
Her mocking skepticism rang out loud and clear. The silent room suddenly filled with the sounds of quiet gasps and people stirring anxiously.
The king’s hand slid from her hair to her throat, squeezing to cut off her words. His face was splotched with wine stains, eyes bulging as he growled, “You will shut your mouth, you insufferable abomination.”
“Or what, you’ll kill me like your daughter?”
With a crazed sound, the king threw her down against the stage. The crowds murmured, crying out in dismay. The woman they believed would wear their crown was being forced to her knees in front of them all.
Two guards held her and heavy steps sounded behind her. She could feel the presence of the king. Heard the soft whine of his sword pulled from its scabbard.
Her time in this world was short.
Yet her eyes ran over the crowd.
She found her parents front and center. Frozen and unmoving. Her father’s face was blank, waiting for his king to tell him what to wear. Her mother was flushed with panic, whether for herself or her child, Elysia didn’t know. She didn’t move though—or scream or rage the way a mother does when their child is in danger. Silent and still, her mother told her truth.
Remy’s firm grip kept the blindsided Daphne in hand. Her gaze remained steady on Elysia, the heartbreak in her eyes clear from across the room.
Clawing her way to the front like a feral beast was her sister. Screaming and bloodying anyone who didn’t step aside.
Suddenly, the air became a cracking whip, a static buzz rushing through the room as the electric lights cut in and out. Topp stalked closer and closer to the stage, violence in his eyes and the hair on Elysia’s arms stood on end.
The king started his speech, relaying how she’d fooled them all. She was a poisonous snake, a fruit meant to condemn, but he would save them from her bite and poison on her lips. He wrapped her long hair around his fist once more and raised his sword.
The crown prince was almost to the stage.
Guards were attempting to slow his path, but he shook them off like flies, the remnants of his magic shocking in and out.
You have one chance. And you better make it count.
She reached beneath her skirts, twisted, and plunged. The bronze handle of her blade protruded grossly from the king’s stomach, but even as he folded, he still clutched her hair and swung his sword. Wrenching herself back, she ducked his sword as the guards scrambled to regain purchase, grabbing at her dress and yanking until she was beneath them all again.
The king was a furious, bleeding mess, but she was yelling out into the ballroom, unafraid of the man behind her.
“Your magic cannot die! For every life we have lost, there is another still hiding because of this man. How many Kavians must lose their lives before you see his lies for what they are? Find each other, support each other. Do not let him ruin you!”
There was a whistle in the air.
She wished she could have looked the king in the eyes as she did it.
But her eyes were on her sister, screaming and thrashing against the arms of five guards because they couldn’t hold her. Elysia smiled, she wished she had told her she loved her.
And she finally whispered his name: Aidan, Aidan, Aidan .
Cool steel touched her neck, cutting into skin.
But she was gone, with Topp’s roar echoing all around her as she went, a delirious and bloody smile still slapped across her face.
She had heard death’s call, and now, he would answer hers.