“I—” Cameron looks to me, dropping the underwear in an instant. “I can explain,” she says slowly.
My heartbeat thunders through my ears as I take careful steps toward Cameron. I walk as if the floor is in danger of falling away, causing us all to come crashing down.
Carver keeps his gaze locked on the king’s furious face, but I know he’s aware of me. All four of them are aware of my slow, silent movements.
As soon as my hand slips into Cameron’s, she squeezes it hard. The five of us dissolve into the air, flowing away slowly on a whisking breeze.
I hear my father curse my name as we fade away from the Court of Darkness. The cool breeze caresses me. It relaxes me almost instantly.
We travel for miles toward the secluded meadow, but just before we reach our destination, a stronger magic pulls us hard in the other direction.
Death is more powerful than all of us.
CHAPTER ELEVEN- MERRICK
She’s there and she’s gone. That thief, Cameron, disappears into the night just as Violence had. Just as Violence did, again.
There is a humming in my bones that starts at the bottom of my feet and works its way through me. My sister hadn’t even been brave enough to show her face. I could feel her spirit in the room, just as I’m sure Father could.
The king’s shout rattles the walls. The noise pierces my ears in such a way that I have to touch them to make sure they are not bleeding. His cheeks have gone from red to purple, and all the shadows in the room now cling to him. On a shaking breath, I take a step away from him, knowing that something dark might erupt.
Whatever rules him, whatever lives under his skin, somehow strokes against my mental barriers asking to be let in. His study is empty of the intruders but is now filled with that dark spirit. Sometimes I wonder if he rules it or if it rules him. Currently, it feels as though the latter.
“Bring her back,”A voice says from across the room.
My fingers brush over the smooth walls searching for the switch. Light floods every corner of the space, revealing nothing but an empty room. Fear threatens to wash through me. The realization that it was my father’s voice sends goosebumps forming down my spine.
His voice. But not from him.
“Father?”
There is no sound except for the beating of my heart as it races within its cage. He turns slowly, his attention lingering where the thief had been standing. When his gaze finally meets mine, those green eyes have turned black as his soul. He doesn’t blink as he slowly tilts his head, examining me as if he is just now seeing me for the first time in our lives.
Then he’s gone.
Turned and running down the halls. The voice still lingers in that room. It whispers behind me, and I wonder if it was in my head all along.
“Bring her back. Death will call.”
Death. Will. Call.
What little hold I had on my fear tears through me, buckling my knees before I’m able to push away from the door and chase after the king. What little sanity he had has snapped, and he’s... I don’t want to think about what he is about to do, but somehow, I know.
He’ll kill. Death calls to the Wild Hunt. It pulls them; it feeds them. Who will he kill? Who will he hurt?
My legs can’t move fast enough. My father is lost to the long, twisting, and turning halls of our palace. Skidding to a stop, boots squealing against tile, I know I’ve lost him. The black tiles under me reflect my panicked look back to me.
Think. Think. Think.
Who would he kill? Who would he use to bring Violence back and bring her to her knees?
Who is disposable?
It hits me like a punch straight to my gut, knocking every ounce of air from my lungs and turning my bowels to liquid.
Mother.
I don’t even register that I’m moving again until I’m turning another corner. A maid darts out of my way, screeching and dropping the linens in her grasp. The edges of my vision blur, seeping red and furious.
