Not only am I dying for something to eat, but more importantly I want to make sure that I am fully conscious for the act that myself and Elison are about to put on. We need it to be convincing, beyond a doubt. It’ll be easier for Elison. Being with child has already taken its toll, and she’s awoken today with a tinge of green about her freckled skin.
I’ll have to work harder not to be too intimidating, too threatening, to prove to the noctis king that he has no reason to fear us.
It shouldn’t be too hard.
If I know anything about the arrogance of men—apex predators, at that—it’ll be his instinct to overlook us.
With the guards dragging us from our cells, our charade begins.
I hunch my shoulders, trying to appear small and frail as they jerk us down the corridor. It’s probably just in my own head, but I swear I detect a hint of suspicion behind the prince’s gaze when it sweeps over me. But in the next moment, he’s stopping the group before the next cell.
“Just that one,” the prince barks, pointing through the bars. I notice the red tattoo on his wrist again before dipping my head to hide my alertness before he can sense it like he seems to sense everything else. “We’ll retrieve another batch after these ones are done.”
Before I can see who they grab, the prince takes my arm from one of his guards and ushers me forward.
Days without food have made me weak and a bit lightheaded. Even starved, under normal circumstances, I would attempt to rip from his grasp and run. But with so many of them around us, that would do me no good just yet. Until I can get a better lay of the land, until I know where we’ll run once we escape, playing docile is the best plan I have.
My belly rumbles and I lean into my hunger like it’s a crutch. I let myself wobble as the prince takes us through the weaving crypt corridors, guiding us down hallways lined top to bottom with shelves of skulls, bones, and decay.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice them on our way down here. Then again, the path we’re taking feels different than the one we took when we first arrived. I would know, seeing as I was searching for any possible opportunity to flee and found none.
Hopefully my efforts will prove more fruitful today.
Long after my nose has desensitized itself to the musty stench of long-forgotten dust, we ascend into a dark room lit only by a crackling fire that seems to burn all memory of the dead below us away.
The Castle of Nigh is far more expansive and elaborate on the inside than it had looked while standing among the shattered ruins of the courtyard. We walk its twisting halls and traverse its dimly lit chambers for so long that on more than one occasion I forget I’m among wicked creatures, I forget who’s walking beside me.
One glance at the tall noctis prince though, and I remember. All too clearly.
Two white fangs peek out beneath his lip, and the image of him licking the blood from his finger suddenly consumes my mind.
These are the monsters who stole our world, who carved out its essence and vivacity, and took away our homes.
I hate them.
I hate them all.
But I especially loathe him, and every other Devonshire who’s ever lived.
We reach a set of ornate double doors, the doorknobs gilded with thin accents of red decorating their surfaces.
The prince makes his grand entrance by shoving them both wide, and without even needing to beckon us in, we follow.
There’s a chill in the dimly-lit room we enter, one that reminds me of walking through a forest at night. The ceiling-to-floor stained-glass windows on one side of the room have been shattered, colorful shards still littering the ground like confetti, and yet, even the sunlight still can’t seem to permeate the darkness that’s contained inside this room.
I shudder the farther in we submerge ourselves.
The prince looks down at me and I realize in my chill I’ve inadvertently pulled him closer.
I jerk back, glowering up at him and the smirk I expect to find. But there isn’t a hint of amusement in the expression that lingers on me.
Shaking away whatever emotion had crossed him, the prince continues leading us into the dark grey abyss.
Each candelabra we pass only lights up the small area surrounding it, but I still manage to catch glimpses of the décor around the room. The velvet runner beneath our feet is as dark as blood. The stone columns lining the long room are as rigid and cold as the rest of this castle, and they disappear somewhere high above.
Most notably, of course, is the throne at the end of the long runner.
The throne and the king sitting on it.
