“You didn’t think about the possibility that, oh, I don’t know, a gremlin or a dragon could be down here?”
“Dragons like height. Though this place might be a cave, you would never catch a dragon below ground. They like to be close to the sky. Gremlins, now, that’s a good guess, but they tend to lurk in the swamp kingdoms of Lurian.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes, actually,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “My father was into traveling, and not just for political reasons but to see the world. He took my mother and me along with him. Even after she died, it didn’t stop him. He still carted around my brother and me, taking us to exotic places and teaching us about the land’s customs.”
“That sounds amazing,” she said, sitting beside him. She curled her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. “How old is your brother?”
“Four,” he said, smiling. “Though Jaspar will be five next month.”
“Jaspar and Caspar,” she said, smiling. “That’s cute.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I don’t think Mother and Father were thinking straight when they named us. I think our names make us sound more like court jesters than princes.”
She studied him from the side. “Tell me about your realm.”
He looked at her, smiling slightly while his eyes shimmered. “Think of a place that sits on the clouds. Every building is made of Shine Stone, a pearlescent rock that can only be found high on the Shadow Peak Mountains. It shines like rainbows and white oil in the sun. Since we’re above most of the cloud cover, the sun shines every day.”
She closed her eyes, allowing his words to paint a picture in her mind. “Go on,” she said.
“The rooftops are made of gold; so are the windowsills. Golden statues of our founding father, Elios, with his winged horse, are scattered throughout the city. Elyon itself is tiered and built directly into the mountain, with the castle being at the very top, up on the fourth tier.”
She opened her eyes after a few seconds of silence. “It sounds spectacular.”
“You should come there someday and see it with your own eyes.”
She smiled. “I’d like that. It sounds so different from here.”
He smiled softly, staring at the floor with a faraway look.
“Do you miss your home?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Yes and no. I haven’t been away quite long enough to truly miss it yet, I don’t think.”
“But you must miss your father and brother.”
“Yes, I do.” He looked at her. “As I’m sure you must miss your sister. You were so excited when she was born.”
Her gaze sharpened. “What did you just say?”
He blinked and then shrugged, brushing it off and turning away. “Sorry, that came out strange. I meant to say, I was excited when my own sibling was born, so I know you must have been as well.”
The oddness of his statement had worn off, replaced by something darker that ate away at her thoughts. The mention of Rose sent a bolt of fear straight through her. “It makes me sick with worry thinking what could happen to her with that witch. I have to get back there before it’s too late and something terrible happens.”
“Don’t worry.” Caspar reached over and gripped her hand, squeezing. “We’ll get her back, I promise.”
Oddly, his words felt comforting.
“I’m curious,” she said. “Why did Elyon send its Crown Prince to kill the most powerful sorceress the land has ever seen? It seems a bit foolish to send their heir.”
“Ah, well,” he said, clearing his throat, “they didn’t actually ‘send’ me. I left of my own accord.”
She blinked. “You ran away?”
“Not ‘ran away,’” he said, giving her a look. “I had tired of hearing about the killings, of the misery and bloodshed, and decided to do something about it. It seemed like nobody else was going to.”
“Maybe they were too afraid,” she said.
“Fear in the face of evil is still cowardice,” he spat.
She tensed. “You obviously feel very passionately about this,” she said carefully.
He pressed his lips together as if debating something, then lifted his sleeve. A long, jagged scar of knotted tissue ran clear from his bicep down to his wrist.
She couldn’t stop her eyebrows from knitting. “Good lord,” she said. “What happened?”
“Being Crown Prince isn’t all tea parties and entertaining courtiers,” he said. “As commander of my father’s armies, I have to oversee all the training, the conditioning, and I even lead the charge into battle.”
“Have you seen many battles?”
He looked at the scar.
“I take that as a yes,” she said. “Please continue.”
“I was locked in battle with a knight about twice my size – a giant.”
She shivered. Giants looked like normal people, though they tended to be twice as big in stature. And much more bloodthirsty.
“My second and I always had each other’s backs in battles.” The green of his eyes darkened, turning the shade of a deep green forest. “The giant knocked me to the ground, and my second attacked. It worked – until the giant turned on him and had us both pinned. ‘You or him,’ the giant said, gesturing with his sword between the two of us. I looked at my comrade, and he looked at me. I knew his answer before he spoke it, because I could see the fear in his eyes. ‘Take him!’ he said.” Caspar smirked. “The giant killed him anyway, saying that was a rotten thing to do, and let me off fairly easy in comparison.”
“You call that easy?” she asked, pointing at his arm. “It looks like it was nearly severed.”
He pulled his sleeve back down. “I almost lost it. Luckily, the healers in Elyon are quite skilled. They managed to pack it full of herbs and sew me up before infection could set in.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“For what your friend did to you. It wasn’t fair – or right.”
He looked across the cavern, the crystals reflecting their rainbow light on his face. “It’s fine. It taught me a very important lesson.”
“What’s that?”
He looked at her. The stoniness in his eyes and the dead weight to his mouth made her shiver.
“To never fully trust anyone,” he said.
She searched his eyes. “You can trust me.”
A shield seemed to erect before her. He tensed, pulling his knees up as if they would help hide his body.
She gazed thoughtfully at the crystals. “I know what it’s like being betrayed by those you love, who you think love you back.” She swallowed. “I remember the first time my stepmother beat me. I was eight. I had spilled a vial of ink onto the floor and it stained her throw rug. Tried as I could, it wouldn’t come out. Mother – my real mother – would have smiled and said, ‘It’s all right,’ and dried away my tears, but my stepmother was furious. That’s the first time her whip got a bite of me.
“I thought she was going to take care of Rose and me after Father died.” Tears welled in Natalia’s eyes. “But I was wrong. She’s cruel. Men would lay down their lives for such a woman, but I tell you she is worse than death.” Her hands were trembling violently by the time she stopped talking, and she clutched her dress to still them.
“We’ll get your sister back,” Caspar said. “Don’t worry. Just promise me you won’t storm the castle by yourself tonight now that you know you can use magic?”
That thought sent a fleeting thrill through her. “I promise,” she whispered.
Caspar was silent. She looked at him. The stoniness was gone, a soft wetness remaining in his eyes that spoke of pity. There was something else there too, something she saw earlier when she first admitted to being the lost princess.
“What?” she asked softly.
He blinked and the characteristic mirth returned to his eyes. “Nothing,” he said.
The f
eeling he was hiding something nagged her from the back of her thoughts. She debated on whether or not to pursue the subject. Instead, she rubbed her arms, shivering from a sudden draft.
“Are you cold? Here.” He stood and walked over to the wall, returning with his black cloak.
Fire spread through her cheeks as he draped it over her. His smell enveloped her, the scent of the earth and woods, along with something fresher – the sky, she imagined, if it had a smell. The material was soft but thick, and she instantly warmed.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling slightly.
“Of course,” he said, returning her smile. He lingered near, looking unsure of what to say.
A yawn escaped without her permission.
He chuckled. “You’re falling asleep with your eyes open, my Lady,” he murmured. “You should rest.”
“Part of me doesn’t want to,” she started to say. “All right,” she blubbered instead and began taking off his cloak.
He stopped her. “Keep it. It will keep you warm. Besides, crystals don’t make very good beds, trust me.”
“But what about you? What will you sleep on?”
He shrugged. “I’ll manage.”
After laying the sword beside her, she lay back, bunching up the cloak beneath her head to make a makeshift pillow. She closed her eyes, unable to fall asleep right away despite her exhaustion.
“Caspar?” she asked.
She heard him suck in a tight breath. “Yes?”
“Are you sure we’re safe here?”
He let it out. “Quite sure.”
“How sure?”
His breath tickled her cheek as he lay down beside her, grasping her hand and twining his fingers in hers. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
Her chest warmed as her heart did little summersaults, but it soon faded. His closeness was comforting. Her eyes fluttered closed, unable to remain open any longer.
Caspar began humming a gentle melody that was somehow uplifting and melancholy at the same time.
Her thoughts drifted away, carried off with the perfectly tuned notes.
A thought – a fleeting memory – called out to her, telling her she had heard the melody before long ago, but it disappeared as she fell under the dark wave of sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Terrible Eyes
“Help me, Tali.”
Rose’s voice called out to Natalia from the darkness, which stretched around her like an endless black sea.
Natalia opened her mouth to call for her sister, but it was as if her vocal cords had been cut. No sound came out and she snapped her mouth shut. She tried again but there was only the hiss of air through her windpipe.
“It’s cold here.”
“Rose!” Natalia mouthed, taking a step.
Snake-like vines of darkness whipped out, ensnaring her limbs and coiling around her waist, rendering her immobile. She pulled against them, trying to break free, but the snares only tightened painfully, cutting off the blood flow in her limbs.
“Tali…”
Rose’s voice sounded weaker. Natalia gritted her teeth, feeling helpless and weak.
A delicate melody, like a music box, echoed through the darkness. Up ahead, a spotlight brightened, revealing a doll with hair like flames and a red dress. The doll’s head and arms were lax, and red thread lifted and disappeared into the darkness behind it.
Natalia’s eyes narrowed.
Slender hands with black nails came into view. Red strings looped around the narrow fingers, which clearly belonged to a woman. The doll twitched with movement as the fingers wiggled, making the doll dance.
Glossy black hair spilled into the light, and Natalia’s heart skipped a beat with dread. Any moment now, she knew she would see a beautiful face with wicked violet eyes.
Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, but she was paralyzed.
Two glowing purple eyes opened up. A breeze drifted toward Natalia, the smell of lavender and lilac so thick it was suffocating. A black nose became visible under the light, and then a long, wrinkled muzzle appeared, beneath which poked the tips of white fangs. The black wolf’s head growled at Natalia, suspended above the doll, which danced delicately below.
Someone chuckled, a rumbling made up of a woman’s voice and the deep timbre of the wolf. Something wrapped around Natalia’s throat, choking her. She gasped, trying to gulp down air, but she couldn’t catch a breath.
She was falling. Falling and falling and falling –
Natalia awoke with a start.
The lantern was still lit, though the wick was significantly lower. The place on the floor beside her felt cold. Caspar was gone.
She looked around. Yes, he was definitely missing.
She felt a little jab of disappointment, but it faded almost immediately. Rose was still on her thoughts. The doll, the wolf, the strings; the woman’s laughter echoed inside her head.
Natalia had to know. She needed to know what it was she saw, and if it were all a dream or not.
Pulling the cloak on and securing the clasp, she raced to the entrance and climbed out. The moon was starting to wane, meaning it must be into the early morning hours. Her breath came in little clouds that evaporated around her face as she took off through the trees, moving as quickly as she could and with Rose still at the forefront of her mind.
Her feet didn’t seem to want to move fast enough. She tripped twice, nearly going down completely the second time, but she managed to catch herself with her hands and pushed herself upright again. The clearing loomed before her. She burst through the trees and spotted the pond, its placid waves glinting white under the moon. Running to it, she sank to her knees at its bank.
“Show me,” she said, panting hard. “Show me the Queen, now.”
The surface rippled with colors as an image flickered from within the pool, but nothing concrete came.
Her frustration boiled, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and calming her mind. As clear as if she were standing before her, she imagined the Queen’s face in her mind’s eye.
The water stirred. When Natalia opened her eyes, the image of the Queen’s bedroom was before her, decked in exquisite black and deep purple gauze, silk turrets, and black furniture glossy as oil. The black crown sat on a velvet cushion on the table beside the bed, on which also sat a purple vial with a brilliant red rose. Black candelabra gave the room a harsh, frigid glow.
The Queen lounged on a chaise; her bared legs were propped up, and she had one arm draped lazily over her hip, playing with the large slit in her nightgown skirt. An enormous black fur robe slumped around her shoulders, revealing the top of her breasts. Her hair lay free in perfect ringlets around her face.
A noise came from outside. Her eyes flashed up as a flurry of black-armored guards entered her room, bringing in a handsome man whose wrists were bound. The image shifted, allowing Natalia to see the man’s face. Her stomach lurched.
It was the huntsman.
They brought him before the Queen, two guards gripping his arms on either side, while the rest positioned themselves about the room, their crossbows and spears pointed at him.
The Queen’s lips twitched as she eyed his cape. “Going somewhere?”
The huntsman gave her a cool smile. “I was feeling restless, so I thought I’d go for an early morning hunt.”
“Restless?” she asked, eyes locked with his. “Is there something on your mind?”
His impassive expression betrayed his fear for only a second. “No, my Lady.”
She stood, sauntering toward him. “Leave us,” she clipped.
The guards faltered. “My Lady –”
Her voice turned to ice. “I said get out.”
The guards did as she said, filing out and closing the black doors behind them. The sound reverberated throughout the room, and the Queen paced around the huntsman, the train of her robe dragging the black marble floor behind her.
“You lied t
o me,” she said, pitching her voice low.
The huntsman stood still as a statue. “If I have wronged you, my Queen, it was not my intention.”
She laughed, a delicate, icy sound. “You’re clever, Ace, but your flattery and charms will not work on me.”
“I tell you, my Lady, I have no idea what transgression you speak of.”
“Liar!” she roared, pulling a silver dagger from her robe and sticking the point to the huntsman’s chest.
His jaw flexed.
She licked her lips, smiling. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you fed me the heart of a wild beast – a boar?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed; the sound of it was loud in the thick silence.
“My guards found its carcass abandoned beneath a stinking, fly-ridden pile of dirt in the woods,” she said. She tapped the blade on his chest. “You chickened out.”
“No,” he said, sneering. “I would have slit her throat without a second thought.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His eyes widened slightly with fear. “She… got away.”
“Got away,” the Queen said, her tone derisive. “I set up the perfect murder. I paid off Maxime to plant the necklace, and I ensured the girl would be alone. This should have been easy. Pray tell, how did a young girl get away from an expert huntsman?”
He looked to the side, lips white because he was squeezing them so tightly together.
“Were you afraid of being accused of murder? Is that it?” she asked, digging her nails into his cheek and jerking his face forward. “I told you that wouldn’t have been a problem, not with the necklace in her possession.”
“I’ve killed babies before,” he said, contempt in his eyes. “Do you really think I was worried about murdering a teenage girl?”
“I hoped you wouldn’t be. You and I are so alike,” she purred, trailing a long fingernail down his cheek. He took a deep breath, eyes falling down to her throat and then her chest, which the robe barely managed to cover.
The Queen smiled seductively. “Where is she?”
A White So Red Page 15