“I will not have you, or anyone else for that matter, causing more problems than you’re worth. So I will ask you again, one final time. And do consider your answer thoroughly before blurting the first caustic thought that comes to mind.”
My teeth grind together. I know that my pride isn’t worth my life, but I can’t make myself agree to his terms. The best I can do is bite my tongue and hope my silence is good enough for him.
But I do it for me. For Elison and Mira.
Notfor him.
“How much of a problem do you intend to be, Charlotte? Should I dispose of you now, call back my guards and let them drain you until you’re nothing but a shriveled vessel? Or should I allow my son’s contribution to the Hunt and send you back to the dungeon to await the big day?”
My entire body revolts against my will to keep my mouth shut.
It might save me now to tell the corrupt king what he wants to hear, and it might buy me the time I need to figure out how to break out of here, but the choice he’s giving me is absurd. Die now or die later. That’s what he’s proposing. Saying it as if it’s some gods given grace that I might be among those poor souls released in the Hunt.
How many before me has he given the same ultimatum?
How many after?
“It’s like I told your incompetent son,” I hear myself saying, the tremble in my throat somehow nowhere to be heard in the strength of my projected voice. “Give me back my crossbow and I’ll show you just how much of aproblemI can be.”
I brace myself for them to lunge, jaws unhinging as they knock me to the ground and drink their fill from my dying body.
Fuck it. I mean, really, what was I thinking? That I stood any chance once they had ensnared me? Once they threw me down into their dungeon? No one before me has ever escaped. Not a single person. Every one of them has bled and died in the Hunt, and I’d rather die here, in this icy chamber than out there on a bloody battlefield. At least here I won’t have to watch as Mira is killed slowly. I won’t have to listen to Elison’s cries as a noctis feasts on the unborn child in her belly while she’s still alive. I won’t have to suffer knowing that the few people I care about are once again dying at the hands of monsters.
So, fuck it.
Let them kill me here and now and be done with it. Knowing how badly they need to populate the Hunt, it’s about the bestfuck youI could hope for anyway. Really, it’s a wonder I hadn’t considered this option sooner.
As I await the pressure of their fangs on my neck, to my surprise, it never comes.
The king simply takes his face into his hand with a long, ragged sigh.
“She is permitted one meal the night before the Hunt. Not a single crumb more,” he tells the prince. Glancing at him sideways, he adds, “And should she prove anything less than docile and obedient during the remainder of her time here, deliver her to Harland and let him do with her what he will.”
Suddenly, it’s like I can’t breathe.
How can he do this? How can he deny me a dignified death? One that I was already coming to terms with.
“What?” My voice cracks beneath the pressure piling atop my chest. “No… You can’t—you can’t do this.”
The prince is already trotting down the stairs, obediently following his father’s commands while my head swims in a vast and churning sea of all my greatest fears.
We can’t escape.
I can’t watch them all die.
The blood…
I can’t go through that again.
The prince takes my arm into his iron-clad grasp and drags me away, back the way we came. As I thrash, I kick and grab at anything I can reach, the candelabras passing in hazy hues of gold and grey but standing firm no matter the contact I make. Frantic, I jerk and pull harder, my body flailing to break free from his relentless grip, but he might as well be hauling a bag of rice for how effortless he makes it look.
And that enrages me all the more.
The Hunt is an unnecessary source of entertainment. Given the ever-growing ghoul population, they outnumber us. They overpower us. They don’t need a Hunt to feed. They need it to fuel their egos. To satiate a sick and twisted part of themselves that I’ll never understand.
Mira’s and Elison’s screams already echo in my ears over and over again. Their soon-to-be mangled and bloodied corpses engulf my vision. And then so does my mother’s. And then all of the people in Hulbeck. My vision is a red massacre of torn heads and gutted bodies.
I can’t do this again.
