Madness

by Rebecca Grey

  Windre pushed his robe behind him and sat on the dusty floor outside the cell. He tilted his head. “Why did you come from the Acture Court?”

  “Don’t you want to know who I serve? Don’t you want to know which wicked queen really sent me?” I drew lines in the dirt next to me.

  “No, I know enough of that. I’ve been to Tierasia once myself.”

  My attention snapped to his face. When and how? He even knew the name of the land I hailed from. “How?”

  “I followed Randsin’s call for help. Found myself falling up a hole instead of down. An odd trip, to say the least. But I sought the voice that kept calling in my head until I found him fleeing for his life. From your queen. My question is why now? Nearly seven years later?”

  He really did know it all. No doubt Randsin and him had lengthy discussions about it. I leaned back into my hands.

  “After I helped Randsin escape, a witch, a relation to the one who had announced the prophecy that he had fulfilled, bound the portals closed. It wasn’t until Queen Atarah found her and killed her that the spell was undone, and she sent me through.”

  “What of this token you say Randsin has?”

  “He hasn’t told you?”

  “Randsin is a private man who keeps a lot of secrets. The weight of them, I’m sure, is a hefty price to pay.” Windre folded his hands in his lap.

  I could still smell Red’s blood in the air. It was weird how the roles had switched so quickly. She was free from the cell, and here I was, locked up with nowhere to run. The tears that had welled in my eyes finally dropped over the edge as I blinked. I wiped the at them quickly. I was better than that.

  “If that token gets into the wrong hands, like Queen Atarah’s, and she finds its other half, the world will not be the same. The owner of both halves will have more power than any other being on this earth. What would someone so evil do? I shudder to think.”

  “So the question remains,” he smiled.

  I couldn’t help but gawk at his smile. There was nothing joyful, or happy about this. Perhaps I was wrong, and he was deranged and sick.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he continued.

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to die. I never really did. Logic told me that they would likely kill me and I wanted to be prepared for that, to meet my fate like a man, but I certainly didn’t want to die if another option presented itself. Was this what it was like to be Red? Was this something else we seemed to have in common? It felt like it.

  “If I don’t go back, she will send another.” In truth, it had always been between me and Barthalow, but I had subtly suggested it be me. Barthalow was savage and would cut his way through this world. If I went, as I had, I could undermine her at every step. For the most part, it had worked, up till now.

  “When does she expect your return?” He crossed his legs in front of him, propping his elbows on the edge of his knees and resting his head in his palms. After he asked, he hummed a light tune, as if he couldn’t contain himself.

  I squinted at him, but otherwise ignored his odd behavior. “Not long. Last we spoke she said if I was not successful, and soon, she would send another. He won't be trying to fight her commands as I do. Barthalow is loyal and wholly evil, like her.”

  “So what do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should let me live.”

  “Okay,” Windre nodded. He pushed himself off the floor and dusted his billowing pant legs.

  “Okay?” I looked up. He had to be fucking with me.

  “You’ll have to understand though, that I’ll need to keep you down here. I can’t have you running off with Randsin in the middle of the night.” He gave me a flashing smile that was so beyond different from the sly, wicked ones he had given me before. “My sincerest apologies for the poor living conditions. You understand, right?”

  I nodded my head, but truly I didn’t get it at all. He turned his back to head upstairs, but I scooted myself forward, drawing his attention again.

  “What will happen to Red?”

  His robes gathered dirt from where he had sat and along the edges that trailed the floor. He dusted them further as he spoke. “Hattie will take care of her. I can promise you that. She’ll be given something that will give her her powers back, and she’ll heal quickly after that.”

  “You don’t break nymphs here, do you?”

  His smile grew wider, slightly crooked and his eyes sparkled with something mischievous. “No, I do not.”

  “Are you not afraid I’ll convey that message back to Ottack?”

  “Should I be? I thought you worked for that queen back in where? Tierasia?”

  I pursed my lips. Even though the princess bothered me, there was some odd sense of loyalty to her that I felt, even now. Some weird connection from trying to help her get out from under her father's nose, free from her own oppressor, that made me think she’d like to hear this news.

  “Either way,” Windre waved his hand before I could respond. “You’ll be down here with no way to communicate with the outside world. I don’t know what you know about our war, but Ottack isn’t the good guy, you don’t want to be on his side. It’s the losing side.”

  “I’m not on his side.”

  Windre’s smile fell on one side, a single eyebrow quirking in a way that made his face look crooked too. “We’ll see. I hope not, for your sake.”

  “Can I see her?” My question was barely even a whisper, but I kept my chin up.

  “This is why I think somewhere inside there is a good guy.” His hands clapped loudly together. “She may be allowed to visit at her own will, when she is up to it.”

  His cloth shoe-looking slippers spun in the dirt as he turned away and disappeared up the stairs. Silence echoed around me. The ringing sound of silence surrounded me in an uncomfortable blanket.

  All my life, I had clung to my gut feelings. Now my gut was muddled and confused. This wasn’t my war, I wasn’t here to help or to imprison nymphs. My mission was Randsin and to destroy the token. I shouldn’t have any feelings of loyalty to the fucking princess. I shouldn’t be worried about Red.

  “Focus on Tierasia, Milo,” I said to myself.

  The singing call of my queen burned me. I groaned, ready to admit defeat, ready for my queen to put a price on my head. All the torture devices on the wall glowed crimson. The image of her face appeared in all of them in some way, until together they made up a single image of her face.

  “Well that doesn’t look good,” she chuckled.

  “I’ll get out of it soon enough,” I groaned, trying to wipe any dirt away from my face and look presentable.

  “It’s too late for that. I’m sending Barthalow.”

  I sucked in a breath, knowing what was coming. Stylica didn’t know it yet, but a butcher was about to walk through their lands, cutting down anyone in his path. And I was likely to be tossed aside like an old, used toy.

  “But,” Atarah said, holding a finger up. “I’m making deals today. I’m feeling generous.”

  “Thank you, my queen.” I bowed my head. Anticipation built in the following silence as she watched me.

  “I will grant you what you want most, Milo. If, and only if, you get that token before Barthalow.”

  “And what do you think I want the most?” To be rid of you. The thought crossed my mind and I prayed it didn’t show on my face. I wanted Tierasia to have the rightful king on the throne. I wanted the myths of his survival to be true and I wanted Atarah tried for her crimes against the kingdom.

  “Freedom,” she hissed the word, and it stung me directly in my chest, ringing through the blood oath like a promise. “I’ll end your oath. No sacrifice will be needed.”

  It had never been spoken before that she could end it at her will. Everyone knew that for the oath to be broken you had to give up the closest being to your heart.

  “You’re lying,” I stuttered. “It can only be broken one way.”

  “I never lied.” She fanned herself. “I mer
ely omitted part of the truth. The oath can be broken both ways. Either by sacrifice or by my will. Do we have a deal?”

  I was still here. I was so close to the token already. But if she had it she had a chance at all of the power that could destroy everything. However, if I was free I could leave. For once Queen Atarah wouldn’t have to be my problem. I didn’t have to stick around to feel the need to free all of Tierasia. I could just free myself.

  “It’s a deal.”

  As soon as I said the words, Atarah smiled and her image flickered away. The emptiness of the room felt heavy on me. Slowly, I leaned back and laid down on the ground, tucking my hands under my head. The ceiling was carved stone and not much to look at, giving me mental space to think about my racing thoughts.

  I didn’t know if Windre was telling the truth, I didn’t know if he was a good guy. What I did know is that I wanted to be free. Since I had arrived I was only trying to stop myself from getting the token, to fight the urges that welled from the oath. Now with independence in my foreseeable future, I was going to change everything.

  And no one here needed to know that.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dace

  Leaving Ryker was the hardest part. Now that I had her, I didn’t want to spend a second without her. She had finally fallen asleep after talking for hours. I knew I was losing my own chance at rest, but didn’t care. I’d just have to be tired in my meetings tomorrow. It was worth it to hear stories about her childhood and the smallest good memories she had here in the Heathern Court with Daethian. I’d listen to her talk forever if I could.

  Carefully, I brushed the slightest bit of hair from her face and listened to her heart beat slow and steady. My lips brushed her cheek, a final kiss before I left, but I dared not wake her up. The slight bruising on her neck was starting to fade already; it would be nearly gone, if not completely, by morning. If Daethian wasn’t her best friend I would be hunting him down and ripping him to shreds right now.

  Instead, I focused on my magic. I focused on the Twinity Court. The power covered me, taking me over miles of land in the briefest of moments.

  Something was wrong. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, and I could smell blood in the air. The crisp, copper tang of something amiss in my home. Both eyes snapped open and the hairs on my arms stood on end. Bent limbs and bloody bodies were everywhere.

  Blue armored men were face first in the fresh snow, white already covered their backs as it continued to fall. Just as in my dream, large red puddles had oozed out around everybody. Sprinkles of blood dotted the snow farther away.

  Ice crunched under my boots as I spun, taking everything in. “No, no, no,” I whispered to myself. Men were slumped over in death, leaning against walls or folded over the high walls that surrounded our castle. Panic, worse than the fear I remembered in my dream, welled inside of me. The witch was as silent as she was deadly, and she had left the castle completely unprotected as she took out every perimeter guard.

  Pushing forward, my feet slipped on the icy ground. The witch's body lay as it should be, stretched out over our steps. A stench stronger than I remembered greeted my nose. Some mixture of old, molding books and an acidic scent of toxic herbs managed to cover the smell of the fae blood that had been spilled.

  An icy breeze lifted her holey cloak. Even though I knew what she looked like, had heard stories of their death-like appearance, and had seen them in the dream, the shock of it still hit me. Her skin was grey, every vein that ran underneath was black and bold in web-like lines.

  The familiar feeling, the desire to run in the other direction, coursed through me. The unwanted urge to flee made my fingers quake. I struggled to keep them steady. I was a prince, I reminded myself, nothing should scare me like this. My powers rival so many.

  Shavarra’s question still repeated in my head as I bent and pressed two fingertips against the witch’s throat. What if this was the witch that had caused whatever was wrong with Daethian? A heartbeat still pulsed under my fingers.

  Wind swirled snow around us in tornadoes of white, it picked up her torn hood and pushed it away from her face. Strands of her long black ponytail lifted with the breeze, the black veins that ran over her cheekbones were particularly unsettling. I tried to breathe through the panic that wanted to grip me. This was the burgundy witch. A real, no longer extinct, species was right in front of me.

  Even with the blood that covered her mouth, and the sharp teeth extended for breaking through fae flesh, I knew what I was going to do.

  I was going to save the witch. She would help us with Daethian. She would tell us how she was still alive. For all I knew she was the last of her kind and I couldn’t be the one to end their entire race, even if she was dangerous.

  “Guards?” I called. Cold, wet snow clung to my forearms as I scooped her up into my arms.

  The front door opened, the dark blue helmet of the attending guard appearing. Warning flared in his eyes as he tried to take in the sight.

  “Should I sound the alarm, my prince?” he stuttered.

  “No, no,” I shook my head. “Quietly, I need you to scour the castle to make sure no one else has been harmed. No need to cause a panic.”

  But panic was already settling on his face. The guard inside next to him leaned over, pushing the door open farther, and gawked at the mess of bodies behind me. His eyes cut quickly to the witch in my arms, all color draining from his face.

  “What is that?” the second guard said.

  “Something straight out of your nightmares.” Pushing forward between them, I stepped into the hallway. “Go,” I growled at the first guard. Pulling himself from his fixation on the witch, he stumbled backwards to gather others to help search the castle. I prayed he wouldn’t spread fear and hysteria with him. The other guard walked next to me.

  “What do you plan to do with her, Prince Dace?”

  “I plan to ask her questio--” But I couldn’t finish my sentence. A deep, stinging ache didn’t register in my mind until after the guard next to me quit screaming. My body froze in shock as the teeth of the witch sank into my neck. The squelching sound of flesh and blood being shredded and sucked was a distant noise inside my ears.

  She was meant to be out cold. Instead, she was pushing off of me. Her long, bony fingers with sharp pointed nails interlaced into the guard’s hair as she yanked his head to the side. His blade had been drawn and caught in the witch’s hand. Not a single drop of her blood was spilled. But his was.

  It was all I could do to remain conscious. My fingers rose to the gnarled skin on my neck, the warmth of my own blood covered it. Pain radiated through my knees and up my legs as I fell forward.

  My guard was already dead. I was well on my way. The black cloak of the witch blurred in my vision, the distance between us growing as she darted down the castle halls.

  Get up, Dace. Get up. I screamed at myself.

  Had I only made it through the front hall I would have had the magic binding cuffs that would keep her from doing the most damage. I needed them now, even more. I just needed to make it there.

  Grunting, with the taste of blood on my tongue, I pushed myself up to stand. My legs wobbled underneath me, the muscles fatigued. To this day, I had lived a mostly easy life. I hadn’t fought on the front lines of any prominent wars. My life had never been at stake, nor something I had to often fight for, though it was becoming oddly more regular since I announced my support for the nymphs. Was this struggle to stand, to focus through the pain, what it was like to be injured during combat? To use your mental strength to force your body to move despite its instinct to be still?

  Blood dripped down my arm and off my elbow onto the floor behind me. Screams began to echo down the hall. They all ended nearly as abruptly as they started. The walls around me tilted, the floor sloped, and the lights danced as my head felt light and my body heavy.

  Focus on your magic, Dace.

  Pinpricks dotted my skin, power that grew covered me from head to toe. Every blink felt lik
e it was too long, and if I closed my eyes while I manipulated my travel, I feared I wouldn’t open them again. A rush of colors streaked my vision, everything going out of focus, then a new room appearing.

  My stomach lurched. One hand held my neck and the other held my throat as I bent forward, blood and the remnants of dinner in my stomach spewed onto the floors. The mess didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I had the handcuffs.

  Taking a ragged breath, I ripped them off the wall. Screams continued to meet my ears. The direction of the sound stirred me to forget about myself. She was heading for my parent’s room.

  The chains were heavy and long, but not larger than the chest that I could have easily moved with me in my practice with Ryker. It would work now. It had to.

  This time the surge of my powers washed over me, burning as it went. It extended through my fingers, but stuttered over the magic stopping cuffs. I stuttered, letting go of the tendril of powers that I had extended. I wouldn’t be able to manipulate travel with these.

  Somehow I was going to have to make it to her before she made it to my parents, on foot. I blinked trying to clear my spotty vision. My boots scuffed against the ground, my legs not picking them up. Turning down the hall, my eyes fell over three bodies. Blood pooled around them, just like the men who had died in the snow.

  I sprinted, sliding through the thick, sticky puddles, leaving behind dark crimson footsteps in my wake. Nothing could make me move any faster. Not my fear, not the impending sense of doom, not my regret, and not the foundation of love I had for my parents. I was moving as fast as I could.

  The cuffs crashed loudly against my parents’ open wooden door and I threw myself into the room. Bile rose in my throat as I took in the scene, as the gore met my eyes. My knees threatened to buckle underneath me. Guards rushed down the hall, I could hear their echo approaching. But it was too late.