Madness

by Rebecca Grey

Growling under my breath, I undid my pants and tossed them into a waiting basket. Silk pajamas were already laid out for me on the bed. The smooth texture reminded me of Ryker’s dress and the way it hugged her body. That did little to soothe the growing erection in my briefs.

  Despite the spark that had erupted between me and Ryker, a few not-so-good things still had come from the day. The weight of them caused exhaustion to beckon me toward the bed. When Ryker left I would still have Torrance and my parents to deal with. I wondered if Jesseline would stay though. I was surprised she had followed, but it seemed that she was certain there was a price on my head. A little extra guarding didn’t hurt anything, I mused while I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.

  For the first time in a long time, it felt like being awake was better than my dreams. I longed to be able to pick the moment of the future I could live in while I slept, but it never came like I wanted. More often than not, my dreams would be the opposite of what I was craving.

  Closing my eyes, I smiled to myself and began counting to divert my thoughts and lull myself into sleep. Numbers passed in visions under my eyelids, until the next moment, they were no more.

  White fog swirled inside my head, giving way to the frosted Twinity Court. Snow crunched beneath me as I appeared within the walls of our courtyard. The snow on the ground wasn’t as white as it should be. Red was splattered and large puddles stained the once-pure earth.

  Rapidly, my gaze traveled over the ground. Bodies of guards were slumped over in death. Fear made my body stiff and my mind sharp. Was someone in the castle? Were my parents okay?

  Slipping in my haste, I ran to the bottom of the steps that lead inside. A strange body, not dressed in our guard’s armor, was stretched over the stairs. Wind rustled a ragged black cloak, revealing grey skin with black veins underneath.

  I took a deep breath. It didn’t smell like fae, it didn’t smell like nymph either. It smelled ancient. It smelled deadly.

  Repressing the part of me that wanted to flee, I crept forward. My fingers trembled and I struggled to keep them steady. I was a prince, nothing should scare me like this. My powers would rival so many.

  Still-warm flesh was soft under my skin as I pressed two fingertips against the body's throat. The wind picked up the torn hood and pushed it away from the face. A woman. Long, black hair was bound in a low ponytail, black veins ran in splintering lines over her cheekbones. A faint heartbeat registered beneath my fingers.

  Recognition of just what I was touching startled me enough that I snatched my hand back. A burgundy witch? They had long since been thought to be extinct, and they were not friends of the fae. Blood coated her bottom lip, sharp teeth extended, ready to feast on fae flesh.

  I knew what I had to do. This thing couldn’t stay here. It couldn’t stay alive.

  “Guards?” I called, looking for anyone still alive, or a sign that the castle hadn’t been breached.

  The front door opened, the helmet of the attending guard poking out to see me. His eyes grew as he took in the sight.

  “What happened here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he stuttered. “We didn’t hear anything. No one sounded any alarms or anything.” The guard inside next to him pushed the door open farther and gawked at what his comrade was looking at.

  “Sound the alarm, then! Scour the castle, and for the love of the gods, send someone to check on my parents.”

  “Yes, my prince,” the one guard said quickly, before he bowed and darted away.

  My hand was already on my waist, a knife slipping quietly from its sheath. It couldn’t be allowed to live. To keep myself from stopping, or letting fear take over, I hurried. My fingers intertwined in her hair as I lifted her head to expose her throat. The knife slid easily across her skin. Blood gurgled, as she tried to inhale, and splattered around her. I wiped the weapon on her cloak and slipped the knife back into my belt.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ryker

  I returned to the Heathern Court the same as I had left, in the silence of King Henrick’s presence. He didn’t speak this morning either, as he swiftly took my hand and slung me through time and space, back to where I truly belonged. The briefest of nods was all he gave me once we returned. Nausea was still spinning strongly in my stomach when he used his travel manipulation and returned to the Twinity Court.

  Part of my heart had stayed behind in the Twinity Court. The part of me that begged to ignore everything I’d worked for thus far to run away with Prince Dace was frantically screaming in my head. That voice left me no choice but to leave without saying goodbye. Worry had me thinking that if he would ask me to stay one more time, I’d strip all my clothes off, let him take me right there, and I’d never return again.

  You’re so fucking weak, Ryker, I snarled to myself.

  A few nymphs called from the valley as they saw me appear. Their friendly smiles made me feel so much more welcome than Dace’s parents ever had. I waved back, scanning the small crowd for my friend, for Daethian. Instead, Graceson’s red hair bobbed into view.

  Already on his way up the hill toward the steps, Graceson waved in greeting. Sweat left the stray hairs near his face clinging to his cheeks. His scarred wings opened and closed like a small fan behind him as he fell in step next to me.

  “So, are you the queen of the Twinity Court yet?” he clicked his tongue.

  “That’s a no. And how do you always know things before I tell them to you?” I shot him a bewildered look, taking the steps two at a time. “You haven't said anything to Daethian, have you?”

  “I have friends far and wide.” He chewed his lip, his eyes watching anything but me, as he spoke. “Was I not supposed to tell Daethian? It’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Damn it, Graceson. How did he take it?”

  “He didn’t really say anything.”

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe this time had done what it needed to do and he had realized we were just better as friends and that this was all for the good of everyone. Including my own personal interests.

  “I hope that’s a good sign. Everything still standing here?”

  “Some of the nymphs have taken to calling me ‘bastard’ instead of my real name. A few minor complaints from some nymphs who want to use the same training weapons, and someone learned they are allergic to bees, but apart from that, it’s been business as usual, I would suspect.”

  My gaze traveled over the doors we walked by. The noise of sex-crazed nymphs was still noticeable in the air. I scrubbed my face and tried to ignore the noises. Graceson walked along next to me, happy as can be, oblivious, with his cheeky smile and casual stance. My plan was to jump in the shower, try and wash off a fraction of Dace’s scent before I hunted Daethian down. Even with the dread of our impending conversation, I missed him dearly.

  “Have you heard anything from Hattie?” I asked hopefully, as we started down my hallway.

  “Oh, yeah, actually a messenger stopped by and dropped off some sort of crystal. She said if you wanted to talk, all you’d have to do is hold it and say her name? Sounds like witchcraft to me, but I put it in your room on top of your wardrobe so no one would find it.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured and twisted the handle on my bedroom door.

  “Here, I’ll follow you in and get it down for you so you don’t have to climb the wardrobe for it,” Graceson said, stepping with me over the threshold.

  “You don’t have--,” I started to say, but realized we weren’t alone. My body jolted, making me stumble backwards into Graceson’s immovable chest.

  Daethian sat up on my bed, his hair ruffled and eyes dark. The scruff of his stubble had grown in more, like he hadn’t bothered to care for it the past few days. “Should I congratulate you now or later?” Daethian said.

  “I’ll just step outside for a minute,” Graceson whispered, and slipped from the room.

  Watching him, I fiddled with a loose strand of hair, trying to come up with something to say. My h
air was still pressed into the elegant curls. It was a nice change from my natural frizz.

  Daethian leaned back into the shadow under the canopy of the bed. It made everything about him look nefarious as his frown deepened. He surely didn’t look okay to me.

  “You let them change your hair? It was perfect the way it was.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Daethian,” I finally managed, meeting his half-slitted gaze.

  “Hmm.” He stood, ducking to miss the drooping fabric above him. The floor creaked with each slow step he took toward me. Static made the black fabric of his shirt cling to his abdomen.

  Daethian took a deep breath as he brought his boots to my toes. His spine straightened, his chin tilting down to watch me with some shade of disgust. “Why can’t you say that you choose me?”

  “I thought we already had this conversation. I’m not choosing him over you. You’re my best fucking friend. That’s not how this works.”

  “Then how does it work? Because from where I stand, you’re running off with him and leaving me alone.”

  “You’re not alone right now.” I pushed a finger into his chest. I could feel anger flooding my body. I wanted to scream at him, like really scream at him. Things had never been like that between us.

  “You’re so stupid,” he yelled, spit showering over my face. I flinched away, bumping against the wall behind me.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” I snarled and stood taller, refusing to back down. Daethian was wrong and his anger was unjustified and unnecessary. Anger made me spit out the words I knew would cut the most. I wanted to say them. “Maybe we shouldn’t be friends either, if you’re going to act like this.”

  Daethian growled. I expected his cheeks to brighten in fiery red anger, but instead they only looked more ashen. His hand shot out, grabbing me by my neck and slamming me against the wall. Plaster cracked behind me, the shock of my head bouncing off the wall made the room spin. Both hands rushed to pull at Daethian’s hands, wrapped so tightly around my throat. But he only squeezed harder as I wheezed, and my legs scuffed against the wall to find some sort of purchase.

  “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do anymore, you bitch.” Black flooded his irises until there was no difference between his pupil and, what used to be, a lovely brown color. Dark waves of smoke began uncurling from his back, tiny tendrils of something unnatural reached off of him. The air filled with the strong scent of something burnt, something wrong.

  “Daethian, stop,” my voice squeaked out. Inside my chest, my lungs begged for reprieve. I pulled and scratched at his fingers, but he only tightened his grip and leaned closer. This wasn’t him. Suddenly, guilt plagued me for my angry words.

  “Stop telling me what to do,” he bellowed.

  The thought to reach for my magic came to mind. But even though he was trying to hurt me, I couldn’t bring myself to want to hurt him. The space between us was too small, whatever I did to him I would also be doing to myself.

  In a desperate plea to save myself, while also saving my friend, I slammed my fist against the wall. Magic, like extended limbs, reached into the walls. Within the castle, I could feel every support beam, every piece of stone, and every place I could hit that could make the building come crashing down. The building shook at my rage. I didn’t need the castle to fall. I just needed Graceson’s attention. I could feel his weight through the floorboards he stood on outside of the room. Pushing, I popped them up under his feet to bounce him forward. Black was beginning to form on the edge of my vision, my body feeling weaker. The limbs of my magic quickly rushed back toward me, no longer tethered to my thoughts.

  Graceson pushed the door open, stepping into the room. “Is everything oka-- Goddess above! Daethian, let her go!”

  He rushed forward, but Daethian kept his hold. I could feel my body growing more lethargic, my hands getting weaker and weaker as I tried to pull myself free. Graceson hissed under his breath and pushed himself between us, his arm slamming into the crook of Daethian’s elbow.

  Pressure was finally released from my neck and a distant pain vibrated through my body as I crumbled against the old floors. I tried to blink up into the light to make out the scuffle between the men. Each breath was ragged and rough as it burned down my throat.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Graceson called, pinning Daethian’s arms behind him. He shifted away from the snaking black fog that still drifted off his skin.

  “I don’t know,” I coughed, my hands pushing up off the dusty floor.

  Daethian laughed, the noise sounding like an off-key chord, “I’m fine, Ryker. Clearly, I’m fucking fine.”

  Forcing myself to stay still and keep my distance from him, I looked at Graceson. I shook my head, unsure of what to do. “What should we do with him? He needs to see Suzetta.”

  “He can’t see her like this,” Graceson grunted, while Daethin snarled and thrashed in his arms like a wild beast. “He’ll hurt her.”

  He was right. I couldn’t have him getting to anyone else the way he had to me. Along with that, I didn’t want anyone to see him like this. How would they react to something so unknown? Just as much as I didn’t want him hurting anyone else, I didn’t want someone to hurt him either. There had to be a way to help him.

  There was only one place that the nymphs made a point not to visit. The pits of the dungeon. Would taking him down to someplace with so many bad memories make this worse on him?

  “Can you take him down to the dungeon without being seen? I’ll go get Suzetta.”

  “Everyone is out practicing and I’ll stick to the less frequented halls. No one here likes to walk by the dungeons.”

  “You can’t save me, Ryker,” Daethian cooed. “You’ve already ruined me.”

  A passing feeling of horror rattled my thoughts. Leaving had been the wrong answer, and I had left him alone to deal with whatever it was that was happening to him. I didn’t want to blame myself, but something about the way he said it rang true.

  “Shut up.” Graceson drug him forward. “Mind if I gag him?”

  “Please do,” I nodded, pulling the door open for him as the two wrestled forward.

  “Damn it. He’s strong. Tell Suzetta we may need to sedate him,” Graceson huffed as he struggled out and down the hall with Daethian pressing his feet into the ground and pushing off of him.

  Fear and urgency nipped at my heels. I tried to push down the waves of dizziness that still plagued me from the sudden rush of not breathing, to breathing, to standing, to running. Nymphs watched me, confused, as I sprinted past them without a word. I caught their twisted expressions as their faces followed. Every tick of their surprised, gaping mouths or upturned eyebrows filtered through my brain. Doorways came and went, inching away at an alarmingly slow pace. Everything moved, but never as fast as I needed it to. Even the air around me felt heavy, thick with guilt and worry, and hard to navigate.

  Daethian was going to be okay. I just had to keep repeating it in my head. The heel of my shoes slid across the floor as I slid into the white, clean infirmary. Suzetta and Shavarra were hovering over a patient, delicately wrapping the man's arm. Both looked up, wide-eyed at my sudden appearance. The air was full with the bitter scent of the products Suzetta used to keep the room as sterile as possible.

  “You’re back!” Suzetta paused, “What’s the matter? What the hell happened to your neck?”

  “Here, I can finish this,” Shavarra whispered and nudged Suzetta toward me with her elbow.

  The healer looked down behind her at the patient even as she crossed the room. Her gentle hands reached out, brushing over my neck. “Who did this to you?”

  I hadn’t had the chance to look, but I’m sure his hand left large, mean bruises that would rival those that Ganglin had once left. It hurt to speak, and air still plagued my chest as I tried.

  “Don’t worry about me. Something is wrong with Daethian. Can you come with me?”

  Suzetta nodded eagerly, leaving Sha
varra to finish the work she had started. The healer easily kept pace next to me as I basically ran down the halls once more. Questions bloomed out of her like petals of a flower that faced the sun.

  “What's wrong with him?” she began.

  “I don’t know. His eyes are black, black smoke is literally fuming off of him, and he just tried to kill me,” the words came out in a tumble, on top of each other. “It’s like he is possessed.”

  “By a demon of Havala? Has he done anything else out of the ordinary, other than just now? It is a tad worrying. Daethian loves you.”

  “Only a tad worrying? I almost died!” I laughed to keep from crying. If I thought too hard, hot, wet tears welled in my eyes. “Uh, he has been argumentative lately. He has said some really mean things, but I’ve just assumed we were going through a phase or something. There has been this tension between us and… and I’m talking too much you don’t need to know that.”

  “Either way, black eyes and oozing black smoke isn’t natural.” Suzetta stroked a beaded necklace that hung from a belt loop on her loose pants. Her thumb rubbed over a worn pendant, faded to a bronze, the olive branch symbol of Mother Nature.

  “Graceson thinks you’ll need to sedate him.”

  Suzetta hummed as she thought. The door that opened to the stairs that lead down to the cells was still swinging on its hinges. Muffled shouts and bitterly yelled curse words echoed up to us.

  “Oh no,” I mumbled and jogged down the stairs.

  Graceson leaned heavily against a cell door, his hands fumbling with the jingling keys as he tried to keep it closed and lock it. Daethian pushed on the other side. His long fingers gripped the bars with white knuckles. Curling strands of fog reached out around him like deadly arms.

  “Fuck you and your fucking smoke,” Graceson hissed, dodging a strand that reached for his cheek. The key clanked loudly, the lock clicking in place. Daethian’s fingers grazed Graceson’s shirt, trying to grab him through the bars, but Graceson was already shaking his head and walking toward us.