by Shannon Lamb
“Marie!” Laylia hissed, hoping desperately that her sister wasn’t among the mutilated bodies that littered the floor. If she hadn’t had Bria with her, she would’ve fallen into hysterics solely upon waking. “Marie! Where are you? What’s happened?” she pressed her face to the small sliver of light slicing through the seam of the door, hoping for a glimpse of clarity.
“It’s okay!” Marie reassured her, all too fervently. “I’m going to get you out of there!”
“You shouldn’t have promised that,” Alex turned away, but remained firmly in place as a barricade.
Marie desperately looked to her remaining siblings and their Umbra for assistance. She couldn’t move Alex without their help, nor could she make her way over the crater that now served as a moat. They stood around her in a scattered semicircle, showing far too much interest in their surroundings in a blatant effort to ignore her.
“Am I to understand that all of you agree with Alex?” Not one of them would meet her gaze, infuriating her far beyond tepid civility. “Cerin!” she firmly grasped him by the shoulders, shaking him until he was forced to look at her. “You’re willing to leave our sister in our mother’s tomb, trapped with the rotting stench of the man who raped her for years?” He cringed at her words, dropping his eyes to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but was only able to produce a soft hiss of indecision. He hated this just as much as her, but they didn’t have a choice. “You’re all willing to do that?” Their stunned silence only incensed her further, far beyond the point of forgiveness. “ANSWER ME!”
“Marie?” panic crept into Laylia’s voice at the absence of her sister’s. She dug her fingernails into the subtle indentation of the doorframe, trying to claw her way through to the other side. The resulting screech brought about a universal shudder.
“It’s alright!” Marie called out, sprinting along the expanse of the cracked land until she was able to leap across a small fissure in the ground. She rushed up to the side of the mausoleum and pressed her face to the silver. “I’m here!” she reassured her sister between breaths. “I’m here.”
“I think I understand what’s going on,” Laylia said in a soft voice.
“They’re fools, Laylia! I’m going to get you out of there. I have the key, remember? Me! Do you hear it?” Marie determinedly tapped the key against the mausoleum with a hysteric pattering.
“It’s alright. I’m stronger now,” Laylia spoke with a calmness that was not her own. Her voice was changing. Perhaps it was too late, after all. Weighted by the niggling doubt that echoed her shameful thoughts, Marie sunk her knees into the damp ground and pressed her forehead to the silver.
“Marie, listen to me.” Marie snapped herself upright. She absently traced the line of her reflection in the smudged silver. “Come find me.”
“Come find you? Laylia, you’re right here,” she shook slightly with a humorless laugh.
“Sister...”
“Yes?” Marie flinched at the word. She found herself undeserving of such a term of endearment. “Laylia? What is it?” she pressed her ear to the silver, hearing her own heart hammer in reply.
“Don’t trust Alex.”
HOMECOMING QUEEN
Marie awoke days later, with a vague recollection of what had happened following Laylia’s haunting words. Don’t trust Alex. What in god’s name did she mean by that? Shortly after, screams had erupted from all angles. The murmur of frenzied voices drowned beneath a high-warbling pitch as blackness descended upon the six of them, knocking Marie flat on her back. She couldn’t remember any more after that.
She gingerly sat up, pressing her fingertips to her temples in a weak attempt to assuage the painful pressure pulsing behind her eyes. The hammering pain echoed every sound in the room with aching clarity.
She found herself in an over-stuffed bed that rivaled the size of her bedroom back home, swaddled in a cocoon of quilts. She was holed up here and forced to recuperate, in hopes that her anger would fade along with her injuries. Fat chance.
“Nice to see you survived, sweetheart!” Raeph exclaimed from the edge of the bed. He made no move to show his gratitude as he leaned back in his chair.
“Ditto,” she scoffed, glaring at his filthy boots resting at the foot of her bed and making a mess of her ruffled quilts.
“Is it true? Did you really defeat Cailene?” Johanna’s voice startled her. Marie turned to see the frazzled girl kneeling at her bedside, looking worse for wear.
“Cailene’s dead,” Marie slowly nodded. She thought back to Cailene’s determined pale face, moments before the creature had consumed her and tarnished her name for years to come. “Marcel’s dead, too,” she shivered at the recent memory.
“It must have been very strange for you. Despicable as they were, they were your family,” Johanna added softly.
“Blood means nothing,” Marie replied bitterly as she thought back to the putrid air of the mausoleum, choking in remembrance.
“Still, I’m sorry to hear about Laylia. She was always nice to me,” Johanna mumbled, lowering her head.
“Laylia? What did you hear?” Marie tried to keep the panic from her voice, but failed miserably.
“You don’t remember?” Raeph quirked an inquisitive brow.
“I passed out.”
“That seems to be a specialty of yours.”
“Damn it, Raeph! Tell me what happened!” The urgency in her tone took him by surprise. He hooked his hands onto the edge of the bed, scrambling to keep the chair upright with an embarrassing display of wobbly limbs.
“Laylia escaped, though no one knows exactly how.” Johanna’s words eased the tension in Marie’s shoulders.
“Your sister is now the most wanted fugitive in the Iunctus Galaxy,” Raeph’s smile wasn’t without pity, but Marie wanted to slap it off of his face regardless. “She’s considered extremely dangerous. No one is to approach her, but to alert an authoritative figure immediately upon her discovery.”
“What do they plan to do once they find her?” Marie asked timidly.
“You tell us. You’re the Queen,” Raeph snorted.
“I’m the what?”
“You’re the new Queen,” Alex’s voice made the other’s scatter like cockroaches beneath a bright light. They scurried for the exit as he slowly made his way into the room, finding the awkward tension between the two painfully palpable.
Don’t trust Alex. Laylia’s words blared in her mind like a screeching broken record, driving her to the point of madness. The gleam of his earnest blue eyes melted her anger and made her question her sister’s warning. Perhaps it hadn’t been Laylia talking, after all. She abruptly turned away in order to hold tight to the feeling of betrayal. She would not forget her sister so easily.
“The youngest heir inherits the kingdom,” Alex settled into a chair beside Marie. He made a painstaking effort to keep his distance from her trembling fists, poised to strike.
“Yet another thing you’ve kept from me.”
“Everything I kept from you, I did so for your benefit,” Alex sighed. He was not a man of excuses. The whine of his own sniveling physically sickened him. “You were so scared and fragile when you first came to this world. I didn’t know how much more you could handle.” He buried his face in his hands, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry that you’re upset,” he bowed his back and rested his eyes on Marie, looking over her delicate form with nothing but regret.
“Upset?” she snarled. “My god, Alex! I-” Marie pulled her bottom lip through her teeth in a feeble effort to stop her next words from spilling out. “I can’t trust you!”
“Oh,” he instantly stiffened. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” The muscle in his jaw worked overtime, pronouncing his square features as his eyes glazed over and hardened to stone. Marie instantly regretted her words, but made no move to counter them.
“There are things that happened in the tomb that I need to discuss with the rest of you, but you’ll have to wait until I get back.�
� Marie inhaled sharply, finding courage amidst the surge of anger. “There are a few things I need to set into motion while I’m here, but once they’re settled, I’m going home for a week.”
“You’re primed to give orders and you haven’t even undergone your coronation. You’re certainly adapting quite well to the news.”
“Yes. Perhaps you’ve underestimated me, no?” she bit out coldly, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Yes, it seems I have. And if I may say so, my Queen, I believe you’ve overestimated me,” Alex jumped to his feet so abruptly that he’d startled Marie, causing her to pitch forward with a loud gasp. With a customary bow and an apologetic smile, he excused himself, leaving her to the unwelcome company of her thoughts.
The changes at hand were by no means minor, and were not subsequent to a grace period. First and foremost, Marie abolished all forms of slavery. Those that wished to stay employed at the castle by whatever madness had driven them to do so were able, but only in accordance with a hefty wage and free board. Those that wished to retire – and many were in dire need of such a reprieve – were to live out their days in luxury.
The poor souls that made up the Floor of Faces were put to rest, and a memorial was erected in place of their suffering. As far as Slave Quarters was concerned, that little corner of the castle had been paved over and replenished with beautiful landscape and marbled tombs. It became a place for those who were left behind to mourn the dead and honor their fallen friends.
Cailene’s dogs had to be put down. Marie felt she had no choice. The people craved retaliation and needed to see strength in their new Queen, and Cailene’s former guards presented themselves as the perfect scapegoats. Still, seeing their lifeless bodies at her feet amidst a swirl of raucous cheers made her nauseous. She couldn’t help but think swift justice horribly barbaric.
Marcel’s panic room was demolished, and his room of horrors was reconstructed to resemble a safe haven for all women seeking protection. Fallon fully embraced the idea, much to Marie’s surprise. She was violently adamant that all women learn to protect themselves, and was surprisingly enthusiastic to head up the operation and lend her skills. Unfortunately, that meant prolonged exposure to Raeph, as well.
Once Marie felt everything that required her immediate attention had been settled, she reluctantly embarked upon Isa-hell for a return trip to Quaker Springs. She had no trouble leaving behind her bickering siblings to squabble over the rites of the monarchy. By the time they came to a decision, she’d be back on Quinque to relieve them of the burden. The real challenge would be returning to the castle.
At Marie’s request, she and Amelia spent her first day back watching reruns of American Dad and eating cold pizza from Jimmy’s. Neither of them spoke of Marie’s recent absence, but the silence between them spoke volumes. She looked over at Amelia with a newfound appreciation for all her quirks, and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something profound.
Amelia instantly tensed. She’d been waiting for this moment ever since Marie stepped in through the door, unannounced and looking like hell. She was no saint herself, but she felt that she deserved a confession heavy with repentance.
“What is it?” Amelia fidgeted uncomfortably, finding it difficult to meet Marie’s gaze. Now that the moment was upon her, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear what Marie had to say. Her next words could change everything.
“God, I’ve missed pizza.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
First and foremost, I’d like to address my readers. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your lives to indulge in my fanciful little world of awkward people. If you enjoyed this book, please rate it and leave a positive review. It will help me to put out more books. This is the first book of the “Between the Lines” trilogy. The second one should be released sometime in 2016.
I’d like it to be known that this book would not be possible without the support of my family and friends. Unlike poor Marie, I was very fortunate to be born into a wonderful family and have a vast network of amazing friends who have been endlessly supportive of my choices and my passions, as unorthodox as some of them may be.
To my Mother, Tonya: Much like the rest of us, you are your own worst enemy and cruelest critic, but let it be known that it is wholly felt and appreciated that you’ve always sacrificed so much for the sake of your family, and always did what you thought best. Contrary to my profession, I am not always forthcoming with my words, and want it to be said in print that I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you, and I will always love you.
To my Aunt Joni: You have always been one of my favorite people in existence, and now that I’m older and we’ve been able to develop a friendship as mutual adults, you’ve grown even more awesome, if that’s at all possible. I love that we are eerily likeminded, share the same dark sense of humor, and both love to read and write. Aside from being emotionally supportive, you have helped me with this book and so many other things in so many ways! You are a super awesome aunt, and as a result, have some of the most awesome kids ever. I adore you.
To my cousin, Chelsie: You are one of the kindest and humblest souls I know. One thing that I’ve always admired about you is that when you want something, you go for it. You are fearless, endlessly ambitious, and provide me with copious amounts of inspiration. (Not to mention the fact that you graciously read about 8 different versions of my book, and saw its potential even when it was not in the best shape.) I will always remember your frank advice after reading the original manuscript, delivered with an earnest smile. “The story’s great, but it needs to be rewritten.” It was hard to hear, naturally, but it was some of the best advice I’d ever gotten. You are, simply put, cool as heck.
To my sister, Holly: Even though we are not related by blood, we have an infallible bond that goes even deeper, and has stood the test of time and about a million other things. You are one of the most forgiving and understanding people I know, and I’ve yet to meet a person who has a foul word to say about you. (Except that one girl in eighth grade who said you wore plastic pants. She was just bitter.) We tend to steal each other’s mojo, (When you’re writing a lot, I’m not, and vice versa.) but I hope to be at your book signing someday soon. You are an amazing person, a phenomenal mom, and an incredibly talented writer with a unique perspective. You have something to say that sets you apart from others, and I hope to see it in print someday.
To my brother from another mother, Brick Bludlow: Your patience astounds me. You manage to cope with my perpetual state of grumpiness amidst a constant flux of mood swings, and somehow still like me by the end of every week. We have not known each other for very long, but we made fast friends, and you are one of my closest friends. You’ve never once begrudged me for being legally blind, (which is surprisingly rare) and you’re constantly helping me out. As you know, this book came out at a very difficult time in our lives, and against all logic and sense, you pushed me to pursue it. I’m not sure it would have ever been released (or even written) if not for your support. Now, let’s stop talking about emotions because it’s making me super uncomfortable.
To My Ptitsa: While you were not necessarily personally involved in the book, I don’t feel right not mentioning you, because you are so very important to me, and have provided me with inspiration. (At the risk of this coming out wrong, I tend to practice all my love scenes on you. *snort*) Were it not for your enthusiasm for the story and your general hatred of fantasy, I might take it personal that you can’t seem to get past Chapter 5…Hahahaha.
To Deena: When it comes to your art, I find that adjectives fail me. Your artwork quite literally takes my breath away. I consider myself unbelievably lucky that you agreed to illustrate this series (for lack of a better term? Haha), for I’m quite certain you’re going to be ridiculously famous one day. I always enjoy our late night conversations that seem to cover anything and everything. I find your enthusiasm for the story very flattering, because I consider you to be one of the most i
ntelligent people I’ve ever met, and you are refreshingly blunt.
To Kelly: I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working with you, even though it has only been for a very short time. You are extremely hilarious, and always have something interesting to stay. While I genuinely begrudge editing, (who doesn’t?) I really enjoyed going through your notes, for I find your criticism to be completely constructive, and at times quite comical, which made the grueling process a lot more fun. I think your perspective has really enriched the story as a whole, and helped me to get it in the best possible shape. I hope to work with you again soon, if you don’t have your hands full with motherhood and being awesome!
To Cody: It may be magical thinking on my part, but I feel like there’s some people in life that you’re simply meant to know, almost as if you’re drawn together by a magnetic charge. While we aren’t able to see each other often, I feel as though we are kindred spirits, and will always be good friends. On a less sentimental note, I appreciate you busting your butt to get my proof-reads done in such a short amount of time! I love writing, but I am a terrible businesswoman. In the end, it didn’t matter, since they seemed to have gotten lost in the mail. Hahaha.
To Kimberly Reynolds: You are so awesome. You are boundlessly optimistic, (but also a dark and twisted little thing, which I love!) and you are definitely a reason for this book’s existence. Every time I feel downtrodden, (which happens more often than I’d like to admit) you are always there to lift me up and encourage me. Your love for the characters and the story has helped me to believe in myself and my work, and apart from Rick, (he can’t escape because he lives with me) you are one of the first people I always show it to!
To Nikki: I feel as though our friendship and lives seem to be in a constant state of ebb and flow for whatever reason, but all hardships aside, I always enjoy the ride! (Could I be any cornier?) I love that you’ve devoured the story, and have repeatedly let me bend your ear about the plot. To date, you are the only person who has fully read what I’ve written so far of the sequel. When I talk about Doobles with anyone else, they look at me like I’m crazy. They’re probably right.