“And you called me naive.”
He shakes his head. “Twylla, I—”
“If you say you still love me, then I swear to the gods I will kill you,” she hisses.
“I wasn’t going to,” he says, and the ring of honesty in his words makes her recoil. “I was going to tell you to hide. Make sure you cannot be found.”
“Are you helping us?”
“He wants your head next to Merek’s on the Lortune gate,” Lief says. “And though we are no longer friends, I don’t want to see that.”
I see Twylla blanch and my own rage rises, boiling and caustic. “Lief?” I say and the sound jolts them both. They startle and turn to me.
“Errin.” Lief tries for a smile.
“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you write?”
He looks at Twylla, then his gaze slides back to me. “We can talk about this later.”
“You’re the Silver Knight? You’re with him?”
My voice echoes and Lief looks over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down.”
I shake my head. “Where is Silas? Did you …” I can’t say it. “Did you?”
He shakes his head. “He’s fine.”
“But your master has him now, doesn’t he?” I spit, and Lief flushes. “Thanks to you. Tremayne is destroyed! Our village, Lief. Gone. The bakery, the forge. My apothecary. His monsters leveled it, smashed everything they could to pieces. People are dead, Lief. The baker’s wife. The blacksmith. Maybe Lirys. People we know.”
“I wasn’t here when that happened—”
“I thought you were dead.” I cut him off, spitting my words at him. “I wish you were, gods, I wish you were. Traitor.”
He blanches, his eyes moving between Twylla and me. “What did she tell you?” he asks.
I shake my head and step away from him. “Tell us how to get out of here. You owe me that much. You owe her more.”
“Errin, I—”
Then the sound of boots. “Lief?” That smooth, chilling voice calls from farther down the corridor, and every hair on my arms and neck rises.
“Here, Your Grace,” he calls. “Hide,” he hisses at Twylla. “I can’t protect you. Hide.”
She looks at me and I nod. After glancing around she takes a few silent steps to the screen that we’d sat behind an hour or so before, and my heart sinks. It’s not going to be good enough. She’s going to be caught.
Suddenly Lief darts toward me and grips my shoulder painfully, forcing me to the ground in a horrible parody of the lieutenant on the road. I let out a cry that dies instantly when he raises his sword and points it at me.
“Play along,” he hisses. “For her sake. And Silas’s. And your own.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see the Sleeping Prince round the doorway, and Lief digs his fingers into my shoulder. “Where is she?” he demands, and I cry out again. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know,” I say. The pain, the fear, is very real.
“Liar,” Lief says, leaning in. “I know when you’re lying. Where did she go?”
“I’m telling you I don’t know.” Tears stream down my face.
Then Lief releases me, and the Sleeping Prince fills my vision, crouched before me, arms resting on his knees. He looks me over, his head tilted. “She says she doesn’t know, Lief,” he murmurs. “Is that true, sweetling?”
I nod my head, allowing more tears to fall.
“There, there, child.” He pulls me up with him, folding me into an embrace. My face is pressed against his cold armor, metal arms holding me to him. I’m so horribly aware of my brother standing behind us, of Twylla hiding behind the screen. Yet still he holds me. I feel his nose against my hair, hear him inhale. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he says, lowering his mouth to my ear. “I’m Aurek. King Aurek, now. And you’re Errin.”
I pull away and he lets me, smiling with an easy charm. Up close his cheeks are sunken and the skin across them is thin and waxen. His hair looks dry and brittle, and there are lines around his mouth, between his eyebrows. He’s aging. Rapidly.
“Where’s Silas?” I ask before I can think.
This time his smile is brilliant, his whole face lighting up with pleasure. “Ah, Silas. My miraculous nephew. What a gift, what an unexpected joy in a dark time. He’s safe, of course. He’s my treasure. As are you, sweetling. As is your brother. My new family. You can see him soon enough, if you behave. Though I don’t expect any trouble from you. You’re the girl of my dreams, after all.”
My stomach lurches. I’ve been so foolish. “So it was you—”
“One of the perks of being a vitasmith. My little joke. You’re not laughing, though.” There is something hideously childish about his manner. He shrugs. “It was really a joke for me, anyway. Both of them were.”
“What? Both of what?”
He places a long finger against my lips to silence me. “Later, my sweetest.” He turns to Lief. “When did you last see the traitor?”
“In the Great Hall, before they fled. I thought it was her I was chasing. She’s colored her hair; it confused me momentarily.”
“And you truly don’t know where your friend went?” The Sleeping Prince scrutinizes me, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep my gaze on his and not let it shift to where Twylla hides.
“I told her to run.”
“Oh dear,” the Sleeping Prince says. “That was foolish.” He frowns, and turns away, scanning the room, and my heart skitters wildly.
“Is everyone in Tremayne dead?” I blurt. “Did your monsters kill them all?”
“You’re not very respectful.” He looks back at me, his eyes raking my face. “I’m a king, Errin. You’re supposed to bow to me; you haven’t yet. And you’re not supposed to address me until I’ve spoken to you.”
“Tell me what happened to them and then I’ll decide whether or not to bow to you.”
He blinks at me, his lip curling, anger flooding his face. Just as suddenly it’s gone, replaced with the same mechanical smile. “Enough questions, sweetling. Plenty of time for that later.” His hand darts out and takes my wrist, caressing it with his thumb, smiling when I flinch.
Over his shoulder Lief stands with the oddest expression on his face. He blinks once, as if remembering where he is and then speaks. “Your Grace, if I might be so bold, I can have the golems search for her, if you wish? Matters upstairs should be finished by now, as well as the business above ground.”
“Business.” I stare at my brother. “Do you mean murder?”
“You have to scotch the nest to eliminate the threat, Errin,” the Sleeping Prince says musically. “We don’t expect you to understand.”
“Good, because I don’t.” I turn away from him. Panic stabs at me the second my back is to him, but I gather my courage and look at my brother. “What about Lirys, Lief? She was in Tremayne. Did you know she and Kirin were engaged? And what of him? He was a soldier, Lief. Did you come through Almwyk? Did you know he was there? Did you slaughter him, too?”
Lief’s fingers flex, but his face stays blank. “If any soldiers died, they died doing their duty. It’s what they signed up for, the defense of their country.”
“He’s your best friend!” It comes out as a sob and then I’m trapped again in the iron grip of the Sleeping Prince.
“Now, now, lovely,” the Sleeping Prince says, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I would have accomplished all of this anyway; it’s hardly your brother’s fault. In fact, I daresay he’s saved more lives than have been lost so far. I haven’t killed a tenth of the people I thought I’d have to.” I can hear the smile in his voice and it sickens me.
I ignore the Sleeping Prince and address my brother directly. “So now what? You live at the castle in Lormere as his lapdog?”
There is a tsk behind me. “He’s my heir,” the Sleeping Prince says softly in my ear. “Unless I have children of my own, then your brother is my heir. And should I have more child
ren, then he’ll become a grand duke, with land of his own to rule and to pass on to his own heirs. No more bowing and scraping. My thanks to him for all that he helped me achieve. If you can learn to mind your tongue, you can be a duchess.”
“I’d rather die.”
“I can make that happen,” he whispers. Louder, he continues, “I owe your brother a great deal, Errin. His knowledge of the layout of Lormere castle, his knowledge of the geography and laws of Tregellan. He’s been invaluable to me. He also told me your great-grandfather was the captain of the Tregellian Royal Army once. I can see that, in him.”
I look at Lief, expecting to see him glowing under the praise, but he merely bows.
The Sleeping Prince speaks again. “It’s simple, Errin. If you’re willing to swear loyalty to me, then I will reward you. I want a prosperous kingdom. My opening methods might be distasteful to you, but the legacy will be worth it. I will unite Lormere and Tregellan and we’ll thrive. Will you accept me as your king?”
“No,” I say immediately.
His grip on my wrist tightens and I yelp. Lief jerks forward as though coming to my aid, but then masters himself, his face carefully blank.
“Lief, would you give me a moment with your sister, please? I believe your presence is stirring a rebellion in her. Sibling rivalry, I remember it well. Have another look for the girl. Take the golems, and Brach and his crew. She can’t have gone far.”
Lief makes another bow and turns, crunching down the aisle and sweeping the curtain aside. I’m shocked that he’d leave me here, alone with the Sleeping Prince. Leave Twylla alone behind the screen.
The Sleeping Prince spins me around to face him. “Let me phrase it another way, Errin,” he says pleasantly. “I have your brother. I have Silas. In a matter of hours I’ll have your mother, too. If you make me angry, I will hurt them. If you defy me, I will hurt them. Do you know, Errin, the one thing your brother asked for was your and your mother’s safety. All the rewards I’m heaping on him are unasked for. Isn’t that noble? I could have given him anything in the world, and all he wanted was for his family to be cared for. For us to be a happy family, together.”
“I told you, I’d rather die.”
“And I told you, that can be arranged. But I think you’ll come around. You liked me in the dreams, didn’t you?” I flush and he grins. “Yes, you liked me. You liked me very well.”
“If I’d known you—”
“Ah, that’s right. You thought I was Silas. There’s another gift I owe to the Vastels. My long-lost nephew, the philtersmith. Had you not told me, in your dreams, where you were, who you were with, I dread to think what opportunities I might have missed.”
“No. No. They were dreams. They weren’t real.” My blood freezes. “No.”
He answers with a grin like a nightmare. “I’m a vitasmith. I can create life, Errin. So I did. I used your brother’s blood and made two little simulacra. I told him I’d protect them, and as long as I did, you’d both be safe. I called one Errin; that was you. And one was Trina. Trina was my favorite, actually. Easier to play with. Malleable.”
My ears are filled with a high-pitched sound as the puzzle clicks into place. The doll in the dream. He showed it to me. He said it was me. It was real. And … Oh gods … Sweetling. My mother said it when she was under the curse. Except there is no curse. There is no Scarlet Varulv. It was him all along. He made her like that. He made her do those things to me.
He smiles again as he watches me put it together. “I liked to play with my little simulacrum. There was something poetic about doing it during the full moon. Something mystical, like in the stories. I didn’t tell Lief; I don’t think he’d approve. But I do get bored.”
I turn my head, tears falling down my face. All those times my mother went for me. It was him. And all my dreams. He was there inside my head. I feel bile burning in my throat. “Why?” I ask in a small voice. I should be relieved Mama isn’t cursed, but this is worse.
“I was robbed, Errin.” He strokes my face with his thumb, before turning it back to him. “Of my life. Of my inheritance. Snuffed out at barely twenty-two years old. I have spent five hundred years asleep. I woke to nothing. The legacy my family spent generations building is ash, scattered to the wind. I was promised a kingdom,” he snarls. “I was promised the greatest kingdom the world had ever known. And I will have one. If it means cobbling one together from the ruins of Lormere and Tregellan.”
His eyes bore into mine, lit with madness, made worse when he begins to laugh. “You should be thanking me. You of all people should be welcoming me. Look at you.” He pushes me away, holding me at arm’s length as he examines me. “You have nothing. You live governed by rich, ignorant men and women, liberals with no respect for tradition, or history, or hard work. They took your mother away and locked her up. They killed your blood; Lief told me. Your great-grandfather died at their hands. You should have always lived in a castle. I will give that to you. I will restore things to how they ought to be.”
I stare at him. “How they ought to be?”
“Mine.” He smiles wolfishly. “All mine, under my order, and at my pleasure. I told you, I have to scotch the nest, Errin,” he says gently. “That’s what you do with an infestation. It’s what we should have done in Tallith, instead of calling for the rat catcher. I see that now. Burn at the source.”
“You’re a monster,” I whisper.
“I’m a king. My father told me a king can rule through fear or through love. Fifty years from now, the people will love me. They won’t remember this—and those who do will consider it the necessary dark before the dawn. When they have prosperity, and security, and know their place, they will be content and they will love me for it. But until then, I’ll rule through fear if I have to.”
He smiles at me lasciviously. “And then, I will begin again. I will use Silas, and the chosen few I save, and I will breed new alchemists. I will find the last of the Sin Eater’s line and I will mount her head above my throne, I will have her hair woven into a crown, have her teeth strung on a chain as a necklace. And when I am safe I will make these lands glorious, Errin. Like Tallith was. And even you will learn to love me for it. You will give me your fealty. You and Silas and Lief, and whomever else I deem worthy, will stay with me in these lands and be a court. Forever.”
He kisses me on the forehead, pushing my hair behind my ears. Then he pulls me so close that our noses touch. I can taste his breath, faintly metallic, faintly rotten, decaying, like the smell of his golems. “I have been asleep for five hundred years, save for when I woke to eat the hearts of silly little girls like you. I ate the heart of my own son to give me the strength to make my golems. And if you don’t shut your mouth and kneel to me, I will eat your mother’s heart, and then your brother’s heart. I will find everyone you’ve ever known: your childhood best friend, your first sweetheart, everyone who was ever kind to you. And I will rip their hearts from their chests and eat them while you watch.”
He smiles viciously. “And I will make Silas create Elixir until he’s nothing but rot. I will have him make it, and I will pour it from the window in front of you both, and then I will make him do it again. The more you defy me, the worse it will be for everyone.”
“Why do I matter to you?” I say, my voice breaking.
“You don’t.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because I can. Because I slept for five hundred years and now I want some sport.” He lets go of my arms and looks at me expectantly. “So make your choice.”
I don’t look at the screen Twylla is hiding behind.
I kneel.
“Dance with me.”
It’s the stuff of dreams, to stand in the arms of a handsome prince while he smiles down at you. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb moving lightly across the bone, as we dance. There’s no music, but we don’t need it; this ball is just for us two, intimate and full of promises. He’s happy; I can see the light of it in his eyes, the way
his gaze rests on mine before it lowers, flickering down to my lips and then back up. His body asks a question now, his fingers press lightly into my flesh when he draws my face to his.
When there’s no more space between us I lower my eyelids. Then I stab him in the throat with the knife I stole from my breakfast tray this morning. It’s blunt, but I put all of my body into the strike. He staggers back, his eyes wide, and I curl my hands into claws, watching blood cascade down over his blue velvet collar, staining his shirt.
He pulls the knife out of his neck and plunges it into my stomach. I crumple to the floor as pain explodes across my body.
No. No. Blood spills over my hands as I hold the hilt, instinct telling me to tear the knife out of my abdomen, to get rid of the thing that’s making my vision blacken at the edges. I’ll die if I pull it out. Maybe it’s better that way.
I test the handle and then his hand is wrapped around my jaw, forcing my head back and my mouth open as he pours liquid into it. He clamps my jaw shut. “Swallow,” he hisses and I do, screaming when he pulls the knife roughly out of me.
By the time I look down the blood has stopped, the wound is closing; I can see it through the tear in my red velvet dress. I slump to the ground, lying on the floor of the ballroom in a puddle of our mingled blood. He lowers himself to the ground next to me.
“This has to stop,” he says finally, close as a lover. “Why do you keep doing this? I’ve given you everything; you live in a castle, for crying out loud. I’m retrieving your mother; I reunited you with your brother. I feed and clothe you. I ask for nothing from you, save your company. What do you want from me? Because frankly, Errin, this is getting boring.”
“I want you to leave me alone.”
“Ahhh, but I’m fond of you.” He smiles at me.
“Because I hate you.”
“You don’t,” he speaks softly, his voice a caress. “You can’t. Look at me, Errin. What do you see?” I look away and then his fingers are on my chin, forcing my head around. I look at him. His golden, hawk-like eyes, his silver-white hair. His handsome, hateful face.
The Sleeping Prince Page 27