7. Chapter Seven
“Why Evelia?” I stare at Lazzus’s tentacles that seem to rise from his back when he feels great emotion. I can’t see his eyes, but his last words sounded sad before he returned us to the cold, damp tower.
His bowed hood snaps up. “What do you mean?”
“Was she just that beautiful that you let her walk free after trying to kill you twice while not showing the pie eater any mercy?”
His words come out as though he’s gritting his teeth. “The pie eater took my gift.”
“The gift that was meant to kill you. He could have saved your life, or at least your stomach.”
“The pie would not have harmed me, and Evelia had every right to kill me. I knew that even then. Many things I did not comprehend so young, but that I did.”
The draft from the window makes me shiver, and I pull the blanket above my shoulders. “With everyone else, you killed so easily, like they were nothing.”
“Have you ever killed a spider?”
“Yes.”
He glides from the room and returns with two more quilts, placing them over me like he’s tucking me in for the night. “Did you feel bad when you squashed the spider?”
“No, but I probably should have.”
“That is how humans were to me. My mind is so far above them they were insects in my path. I should have felt bad, but I never did. They were nothing more than ants or spiders to me. Pests around me I valued more dead.”
“Okay. That doesn’t explain why Evelia was so much more. You slaughtered people for saying the wrong thing to you, but you let her talk to you however she chose. You also knew she was actively trying to destroy you.”
“For that answer, I’d have to take you back even further.”
I sit up in bed as he piques my interest. “You didn’t start at the beginning of your story with Evelia?”
“No, I started at the catalyst that led to everything I regret, but I suppose the path became set much sooner than that.”
I yawn and immediately regret it. “Start at the moment you met her, and maybe it’ll help me understand what you regret.”
“That will have to be discussed next time. It’s important that you get your rest if you are to find the objects you need.”
“It would help if you explained what those were and where I should look first.”
He turns his smoky palm up, and a transparent globe appears. Inside, three objects circle in and out of view. “A cloak, a key, and a dagger. Once you find those, I will lift the storm, and you may proceed up the mountain.”
“What are they needed for?”
“They will give you a chance at making it to the end, and you can’t proceed without them.
Zyon doesn’t care too much about your survival.
He wants the curse broken but doesn’t care if your life is taken before that.
That wouldn’t break the curse, but it would make me dormant again.
Make it so he doesn’t have to worry about me or the madness spreading across his kingdom. ”
“He’d make it the next generation’s problem. Why doesn’t he kill me himself?”
“There are rules.”
“He values me the same as an ant or spider?”
“Yes, precisely. He’s a fool. Always has been.”
“And you’re a hypocrite.”
Lazzus disappears, leaving me with a million questions that make it just as difficult to sleep as the biting air in the frigid tower.
I startle awake and realize the chill tiptoeing down my neck isn’t from the blizzard raging outside. “Can I help you?”
The king watches me a few seconds longer with no shame for spying on me as I slept. “You sleep a lot. There is no way for you to get up the mountain, and unfortunately, that means I will have you in my presence much longer than anticipated. We must go over some rules.”
“Could the first one be that you don’t watch me while I sleep?”
“The rules apply to you and not me, so no.”
“You’re a creep.”
“And you’re a peasant. I win.” He closes the door halfway. “You are to make yourself presentable and come to breakfast.”
“I’ll come as I wish.”
“Then I will lock you in this room for the rest of your stay. Servants will be along shortly to help you.” He leaves the room just in time for the pillow I throw to miss him.
The skeletal cat servants take me to a lower portion of the castle, to a bathroom with a large stone fireplace. They wear blue dresses and cover their smooth ivory skulls with matching round hats. They all look the same with hollow eyes and nose cavities.
My fingers and toes burn in the steamy water as they thaw out from the chilly night. Ivelle used to let me take baths at the apothecary shop since we didn’t have one in our downsized cottage. Sink baths got old after a while, and there is little more satisfying than sinking into steaming water.
The steam loosens my chest, and a heaviness remains as the last images of Ivelle flow through my mind.
I shove away the tears that fall from another person leaving me before they should have, and it’s my fault the kindest soul to exist lost her life in such a brutal way.
It’s my fault my family lost their minds from me stepping over the line everyone warned me about from the moment I could understand what forbidden meant.
My bath is cut short by demands to get to breakfast with the horrid king. Lazzus did terrible things, and while I’m not sure Zyon has also not done terrible things, I like the monster better than the king for some reason. That perhaps is a blight on my character.
The dress they drape over the chair is beautiful and unlike any I’ve seen before.
It’s a mix of greens and cream with golden wildflowers stitched into the skirt.
The colors weave in and out of each other like the sun hitting the ground at different angles.
The fabric is soft and fits over my frame to gently showcase the curves of my waist and hips.
I swish in it, never having something so lovely to wear.
My red hair is braided and pinned around my head, and the cats rub a floral scent into my skin that causes me to sneeze several times.
Even without flesh for expressions, they seem to scowl at my involuntary interruption.
They stand back to look at me, and the middle of the three nods.
With their approval, a fourth person waiting by the door directs me to follow them.
I observe the paintings again as I walk down the overdone hallway. My entire village could live comfortably in the halls alone. So much wealth wasted to keep one person comfortable seems another transgression of this thoughtless king.
Zyon sits at the head of the table in front of a flickering fireplace.
Flames bounce off the gold that wraps around each stone.
The paintings of summer and fall scenes are even larger than the ones in the hall.
The table is the most interesting thing in the room.
Under all the abundance of food is a clear layer that covers what looks like real ocean waves frozen in place.
The number of colors in the display steals my attention as I try to count each variation.
“Are you going to sit or gawk at my table like you’ve never seen breakfast before?”
“I’ve never seen such a breakfast meant only for two people. Are your servants going to feast with us? Or perhaps you could spread what we eat to the villages where even a small piece of bread is a luxury.”
He sits back in his chair and smirks, looking me over like he’s trying to decide if I’m presentable enough. “Or they could do a better job of providing for themselves.”
“What is the point of a king if he provides nothing for his people?”
“What is the point of a king if he must give and never keep?”
“Only a selfish king thinks that way.”
He spreads his hand to the seat next to him. “Let’s discuss the rules.”
I stand for several seconds to annoy him. Once his brows furrow just enough to please me, I take my seat. “Go on.”
“Your defiance will grant you no favors here.”
“Good thing I have no desire for favors.”
His eyes are like ice. The blue and white swirl together into a wintry grey, as if he belongs to the nipping winds frantically whipping snow around outside the large windows to our right.
His silver hair brightens the dullness his wickedness gives his irises.
“Most of my subjects aren’t so quick to look a king in the eye. ”
“Most of your subjects don’t realize you are simply a man whose crown has siphoned his morality to black embers, so that all that remains is an inflated ego. But I stare at your eyes because they were golden yesterday, and today they are like a frozen pond.”
“Yesterday it was fall.”
“Your eyes change based on the season?”
“Yes, a small bit of magical fun. You must be overly observant to notice after such a brief interaction.”
“Colors are something I remember well.”
“Maybe then you will see the monsters’ movements before they rip you apart as you climb the mountain.” He pushes his poached eggs around with his fork.
“If you are so sure I will be ripped apart, why even let me try?”
“Because trying is the only way to either break the curse or at least make it go dormant again. I’d like to return to my life.”
“So eager to return to nothing of value.”
His knuckles pale around his silverware. “Says a peasant. Says someone I could easily squash under the boot of my power.”
“That would make you such a man.” I stick my lower lip out as I speak. “Such a man to destroy something he claims is weaker than him.”
“That is the point of power, isn’t it? To destroy weakness that diminishes one’s kingdom in even the slightest way.”
“The point of power should be to make things better. To uplift those that cannot themselves, so your kingdom can prosper.”
He blinks slowly and adds a quick eye roll at the end. “It seems the gods have not favored your quest, and you must stay here until they decide to let you continue.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“If it is a solitary event, maybe a week. If they have brought winter, until spring.” He pushes a bowl of fruit toward me, followed by a plate of red meat. “Eat something. If I wanted you not to eat, this meeting could have been done in my throne room.”
“Your suggestion has made me not hungry.”