“If I am not ready for thisburdenyou carry, tell me something else then. Something I am allowed to know.”
“Violence is here in my care, which you are aware of. As I have your sister, I also have that thief. A Witch who has so thoroughly tangled her spirit with Violence’s that I am not able to tear them apart. I’ve pushed their bond to its limits, but she is here. Under us.”
Cameron. The girl with fire-red hair. Yes, I remember her from dinner.
“Under us? I thought this place was only one level?”
“There are some things I do not tell your brother.” Half a smile. “It’s just one large room right now. I have yet to separate it into the spaces I am wanting, so it perfectly allows the Witch to wander within the tether of her bond to Violence.”
One room as large as this entire level. It must be massive.
“That is something that I will indeed need to take into consideration.” I hold up the letter, unfolding it and clearing my throat. “I am confident that I may sway my parents into allegiance with the promise of Princess Violence Starling’s hand in marriage and dowry to my court. Signed, Prince Dalziel of the Court of Winds.”
Lifting my eyes from the page, I meet my father’s level glare. No flicker of emotion plays across his features other than annoyed boredom.
So I continue. “He wants her brought to his court as soon as possible so they can formally be introduced before papers are signed.” Father hums as he thinks. “Weneedthis alliance.”
“I am not done with your sister, but I see how this will be advantageous to us. She may go for the visit, but they cannot be wed till I’m finished with her.”
“What exactly are you doing with her?” The one question I speak out loud while a thousand more follow in my mind.Are you hurting her? Is she okay? Does she know where she is? What have you forced upon her? Is she as broken as I am?
“Impatient. Impatient.” He clicks his tongue at me.
Fog spills over the concrete floor, around the desk, and starts washing up over my feet, leaving me to wonder if he is going to send me back to the Dark Palace so quickly. My chest tightens with worry over all the things I can’t control.
“One more thing.” Shadowed hands lift from the fog, curling around the legs of my chair and slowly dragging my seat closer to the desk. “I want this bargain set with magic, my boy. The deal being that I will allow Violence to be married away, but your lips will be forever sealed to what you know and what you will come to know about my own personal dealings.”
A bargain set with magic. My stomach falls.
I consider his words. My silence for Violence’s safety. To break the bargain would mean my own instant death. But if my father breaks his word, it could be his death too.
King Melic’s smile lifts, wide and wicked, as I offer him my hand.
And the bargain is made.
Chapter Six
Violence
Every bolt within the walls and ceiling has been counted and recounted. The iron-ness of it has been properly studied. And yet I don’t see any of it.
He’s gone. I’m alone.
Where is he?
I’ve tried to envision him, tried to force Nollix to appear, and yet my comforting hallucination seems to have better things to do. Huh, I can’t even force my imaginary friends to hang out with me. How pathetic.
Sitting up, I lean forward and huff a breath on the polished wall and draw lines through the fog. I draw flames and stars that I imagine are even brighter than those I’ve seen while living with the Hunt. I exhale again, above the last picture, and draw a crown. When I close my eyes, I can picture it, blackened edges like it has been burnt, and ruby stones that burn bright, releasing clouds of smoke.
I blink and the image is gone. Alone in this room, a solo audience to my thoughts, it’s easy to feel as though I’m losing my mind. A rumbling growl passes through my clenched teeth. One pass of my hand, and my drawings are gone.
Something flickers at the edge of my vision. My thin mattress and the metal frame holding it up groan as I shift my weight too quickly. Even my body shouts its disapproval. My old bruises are healing, already more yellow and brown then blue, but new bruises have been added.
Dark and messy hair frames his intense features. The scar of the Wild Hunt slices up his neck and across his sharp jawline. The metallic wall behind him reflects the golden glow of his skin, casting light across the floor.
A smile almost touches my lips when he finally comes into focus. My index finger pushes back and forth against my own scar, realizing how tender the flesh is there against my knuckles. It causes a shiver to race across my skin. And that small movement has a dirty thought circling my mind.
My imagination. My illusion. Not real. Not real. Not real.
