Chapter 49

Ilay on the cold, damp floor of a dungeon, gasping for breath as searing pain radiated from my side. With trembling fingers, I reached for the source, pulling away bloodied fingers from the spear lodged just below my ribcage. My vision blurred, and every shallow breath sent waves of agony through me. My hands shook as I touched the weapon that had impaled me, its serrated edges cruelly reminding me of the ambush that had brought me here. And then the heartache before it.

Rain poured in through a tiny, grated window high above, the droplets blending with my blood as they mingled on the uneven stone floor. The moon was obscured by thick, ominous clouds, rendering its comforting light unreachable. All I could hear was the relentless patter of raindrops, a haunting symphony that echoed the despair I felt in my heart.

The dungeon was a sinister masterpiece of darkness and desperation. Its walls, constructed of rough-hewn stone, were etched with the marks of countless previous occupants who had surely suffered as I did now. A pungent, earthy scent hung in the air, a combination of mildew and the lingering stench of misery.

The cell was barely large enough for me to stretch out my aching body. Chains dangled from the walls, their rusty links clinking with every gust of wind. The flickering torchlight in the corridor outside only deepened the shadows within, casting eerie, dancing shapes that seemed to mock my predicament.

In the far corner, a rat scuttled by, its beady eyes gleaming with malevolent intelligence as it disappeared into a crack in the wall. The rat, it seemed, was the only other living creature in this forsaken place, and its presence only served to remind me of how utterly alone and vulnerable I was.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the pain, the misery, and the relentless sound of the rain. But even in the blackness behind my eyelids, I could see the faces of Drexel and Icharius, the men who had orchestrated my abduction, and beyond that, Orin sat there, too. Far more handsome, much more dangerous, and everything I thought I needed in this world.

But the biggest fear I held in these moments wasn't the rats nor the weapon I'd eventually have to remove; it wasn't the rain or the chill that set into the air or the king that would eventually descend those steps. It was falling asleep. It was standing in Death's court and being given the name of a person I wouldn't be able to hunt. It was the madness. Always the madness. And with that truth came an ounce of compassion for Orin and the decision he'd made to trap me into a bonded marriage. Though I could never forgive him for the lie, I'd forgive him for the choice.

The pain in my side was unbearable. My fingers fumbled along the length of the spear, slick with my own blood, until they found the grip at the end. Gathering every ounce of strength left in my battered body, I took a deep, shuddering breath, and with a clenched jaw, I seized the spear's shaft.

The agony intensified as I pulled and twisted, the sensation of the weapon being torn from my flesh sending waves of nausea through me. My vision blurred, and I bit down hard on my lower lip to stifle a scream, refusing to give anyone listening the satisfaction of hearing my pain.

Just as I felt the spear leave my body, the door at the top of the stairs swung open with a creak. Panic rose, mingling with the searing agony. I had to hide the weapon, to buy myself a few precious moments.

With a desperate heave, I shoved the spear toward a filthy straw pallet in the corner of the cell, gritting my teeth against the blinding rip that threatened to consume me. The spear disappeared into the darkness just as the first footsteps echoed down the stone stairwell.

I sank back against the cold, damp floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my blood-slicked hands trembling. The figure in the doorway came into view, a silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight from the corridor.

"I see you're awake and trying to be resourceful." Icharius turned to a guard, gesturing for them to open my prison door.

"B-but, Your Grace," the guard protested.

Icharius was fast, striking like a serpent, his movements so quick before my blurred vision, I might not have registered it at all, had the man not crumbled to the floor the second after his neck was snapped.

"I do so hate it when they disobey a direct order. We're still in training, you see. They haven't quite learned to fear me as much as they fear you, Maiden."

He stepped to the side, his boots sliding across the pool of my blood so I could see the darkness rise from the ground and smother the man, just as it had with Orin's victim.

I swallowed my gasp. "Who are you?"

Plucking the key from the fallen guard's belt, he turned it in the lock and strode forward fearlessly, kneeling as he brushed a finger over my bruised face. "I was born a Death Lord, your male counterpart, long before you came to this world, Maiden. I think the real question is, who are you?"

"That's not possible," I grunted, willing myself to sit up, holding my hand over the wound at my side. I had no idea who'd given me this particular injury. If it were him, I would die. "I am Death's Maiden. I've seen his realm hundreds of times."

"Yes, those hellhounds before the gates really are something, are they not?"

He'd been there, then. I glanced down at his hand, searching for a name, but he wore leather gloves, likely to keep his secret. He'd conquered the whole world with his lie. No wonder the Maestro hadn't shut him down, nor challenged him when he came for Quill. He knew. And he was afraid.

"Andros!" he shouted, sending a jolt of pain through me when I flinched.

The next guard came warily down the steps, each careful move measured. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"You will come and sit in the cell with our precious Maiden. I'm told her will is strong, and I am to break it."

Nothing made sense to me. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my vision to focus as weakness in every limb of my body pulled me toward the ground.

"Oh, no. You must stay awake, Maiden. I have so many delicious plans for us." He gripped me by my hair, tilting my head back until I winced, the pain reverberating through my entire body. "I'd heard you went gallivanting in the temple of Eiria." He twisted my face, looking into my eyes, but not fully. Instead, at the white lashes, no doubt. "If you kill this man, I will let you sleep and heal."

"Go fuck yourself," I mumbled.

The king's blond hair fell across his brow as he laughed. "Maybe later, sweetheart." Grabbing my arm, he yanked the black leather sleeve up, dark eyes pinned to the gold band that became his ultimate embarrassment. "I've dreamed of this moment."

As he drew the ax from his side, I screamed, scrambling away, no matter the pain it caused, adrenaline forcing me to unsteady feet. I snatched the spear from where I'd hid it, holding it toward the king, though I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to impale him. I was hardly able to stand.

The moonlight crept across the cell, the clouds giving way just enough to showcase his sinister smile as he nodded. "The ferocity is inspiring, dear. Come, Andros. I believe she needs a night to sleep on it."

A foul stench filled my prison as the guard stepped away, walking as if he'd just ridden a horse for three days. He'd shit his pants watching me go for that weapon, and I couldn't help but feel bad for him as he passed over his fallen comrade and followed the king up the stairs.

I stood there for over an hour, muscles trembling for relief, while I stared at the body on the floor, using the weapon that'd broken me as leverage to hold my body up. I needed a plan, and I needed it yesterday. What did forcing me to kill give him? Why would that be important to him? He knew who I was, but what was happening that seemed to be breaking the rules of the world? Orin could kill. Icharius could kill… but he'd specifically called himself a Death Lord when Orin had insisted he wasn't.

"Deyanira?" Paesha's voice broke something within me. I couldn't help the weakening of my stance.

"Here," I said, the word escaping somewhere between a whisper and a plea.

"Godsdamnit, Thea. Hold the fucking boat still."

"I'm trying," Althea answered.

I could almost picture them following Paesha's magic to the window of my cell, forcing them into a boat because they couldn't get to me from within the castle. But they'd come. For me. Even when I'd doubted everything I was to them the second I got a chance, they'd still come. Maybe not with Orin, but in spite of him.

"How do we get you out?"

"I'm hurt pretty badly." I shifted to the window to keep my voice down. "Spear to the side." I wondered for a second if I should warn them about the king's hidden power. Their betrayal and lies had cut me so deep. Everything my father had always told me about trusting others became the truest wisdom I'd ever been given. And those wounds cut deep, nearly severing my heart. I'd risked everything for them. And they'd lied. But I could never look myself in the mirror if I didn't take the higher road. "Listen to me. Icharius can kill. He's a Death Lord. I don't know how. But you can't come into this castle. He won't hesitate."

Althea's voice shrank. So small, I could barely hear her through the small window. "He's what? I don't understand. How?"

"I wish I knew," I answered quietly. "But I think that's where all the missing people have gone."

I heard a clunk, as if she'd fallen into the boat.

"Gods, Thea," Paesha snapped. "You'll tip us into the piss water. Be careful."

"P," she said, voice almost numb. There was a pause between them. A breath and a realization. "Tolen's name… the change."

Their friend wasn't missing. He'd died at the king's hand.

"I'm sorry, Thea. I know how close you were." A sniffle and another splash of water before Paesha's voice grew quieter. "Is anyone with you, Dey?"

"No."

"Can you reach the bars? I can take them out, Dey. Can you crawl up the wall?" Thea said, a renewed sense of urgency seeping through the night.

I reached as far as I could before the pain in my side raced up my body, stealing my breath before taking me to the floor. "Can't. It's too hard."

"I'm not leaving you in there, Deyanira," Paesha swore. "You either figure out your own escape, or I'm coming in for you, king or no king."

"Give me a day. Let me see what information I can gather and let my side heal. Come back tomorrow at this time if you can get around the guards. I'll try to find a way to reach the window."

Paesha's words crept through the small window with frightening severity. "Once Orin finds out where you are… all bets are off."

I placed my hand on the cold stone wall, wishing I could just take it down. Not for him. But for the women who had come regardless of the danger. "Then don't tell him. Stay in the apartment if you have to. If he gets reckless and mistakes are made, someone's going to die."

"Just don't let it be you, Maiden."

I swallowed, my sadness letting the moment hang between us. "Paesha? Thea?"

"Still here," Paesha whispered. "For as long as we can be."

I nodded, though I knew she couldn't see me lying in the fetal position in a puddle of my own blood, feet away from a dead body. "Thank you for coming." I managed another haggard breath. "If I don't?—"

"Don't do that," she hissed. "Don't lose your fight. No goodbyes. Not one."

"I think I need to sleep now."

"Just be careful," Thea said, full of worry. The metal from their boat scraped against the stone exterior for several silent minutes, even as my eyes drifted shut.

I woke hours later to a guard sleeping on the stairs. If they came back, he'd be a problem. Still sore, though not as bad, I closed my eyes and replayed every moment I had with the family that was never truly mine. I think I'd learned what love was in those stolen days. Somewhere in the laughter of an old man and the kindness of a worried mother. The reach of a child and the embrace of two fearless women. And though I hated to admit it, I learned more about love with Orin than anywhere else. I'd let myself be vulnerable with him. Full of anger one moment and heaps of passion the next. I'd learned that love, no matter the depth, would always leave a mark on your soul. Even if you walked away from it, that wound would never heal. Love was finding yourself lost in the world and realizing that, in the arms of your family, you had discovered the most profound and enduring sanctuary, where your heart could always find its way back home.

Maybe it was formed on a lie, and maybe they'd been the ones to keep it, but they were still my family, and until they cast me away, that was home. There would need to be a conversation. Apologies from both sides because I'd gone there at the very beginning under false pretenses, too. I wasn't perfect. But I needed them. With or without Orin. The second I'd stood before Drexel Vanhoff, I'd wanted to run in the other direction. Straight back to Orin. I wanted to take away the pain in his words for both of us. He'd lied, and I didn't know if I'd ever get over that, but that mark he'd left on my heart remained.

The door creaked open again, jarring the so-called guard to wake. I imagined morning had come, though I wasn't sure of the time, and the window betrayed nothing when the sun remained hidden. A bevy of people descended into the dungeon. Staring into unknown faces, I rose on slightly steadier feet, preparing myself for the final man who clomped down the steps like a horse, his layers of clothing making him look two sizes bigger than he likely was. With furs over his shoulders and a sword strapped to his side, he took up more room than anyone else by half as they lined up outside my cell.

"Good morning, King Slayer. Did you sleep well?" Icharius drew his sword and dragged it along the bars as if he were playing an instrument.

"Quite well," I sneered. "So kind of you to ask."

"I thought we could start this day with a game. Do you see these wretches?"

I studied my nails rather than give away the rapid beat of my heart. "No. I've gone blind overnight."

He laughed, though it was so disingenuous it caused my skin to prickle. "Look at the faces. Study them." Gripping the face of the youngest woman until her gaunt cheeks disappeared behind his gloves, he pulled her forward. "Do you think she deserves to die?"

"No," I answered, frankly.

He shoved her away. "You don't know her. How can you be so sure?"

"I have no interest in your games. What do you want from me?"

"I told you. I'm going to break you, just like you broke my poor little heart." He dipped those words in enough sarcasm that one of his guards flashed a smile.

I said nothing, turning away to sit on my cot.

"Andros!" he screamed, calling the guard from yesterday to step forward. "Open the cell."

I didn't look as several of the small crowd gasped, indicating they believed I was a bigger threat than he was. They had no idea. That was a world he'd built. But there was something else here. Something I believed Icharius might have been putting together far quicker than I had.

The moment the cell was open, he shoved Andros inside and quickly locked it. "You will kill him, Maiden, or every hour on the hour, someone from this group will fall prey to… my skills. Take one life to save ten lives; that's the choice you're faced with. Shall I bring in a giant hourglass for you, or can you count?"

I ran for the bars, shaking the iron in my hands as I threatened him. "The only death you will see from my hands will be your own, King. Only yours."

He laughed all the way back up the stairs as the group followed behind him. I'd played this damn game before. He knew I would choose the greater good. But why did he care? Why did he need to push me?

"He's trying to anger you, Princess," Andros said with a look of grim resignation. "You need not fight him. Just kill me and be done with it."