He casts me a baleful look, then introduces himself. “I am Iliam Aithe, the prince of this palace.” He gestures around my room, then thinks better of it when he sees my plain furnishings. It angers me. I ball up my fists at my sides.
“I know you are unused to our names so you may call me Liam,” he says. I take a step backward. He notices. He shuts his eyes tightly for a brief second then opens them. They are now blue—an exacting shade of my eye color. His display of magic does not ease my nerves. It only serves to show what he is capable of…a small thing he is capable of. Soon he will be forcing himself on me and eventually he will be killing me.
He taps his fingers together in front of him. “I want you to be comfortable here, Emmalina,” Liam says. I notice he does not say he wants me to be happy here. “We will have a long life together. I want to please you any way that I can. As you are to be my princess, your wish is my command.”
My stomach roils. Not only am I fated to be a mother to this man’s children, but he also infers he will force me into his company for a long period of time. I cannot contain my emotions anymore. Horror, torment, worry, loathing, and disgust pulse in my veins. I feel it happening and can do naught to control it. My body vibrates, the electricity buzzes in my form. I see Liam smiling. It is not Finn’s smile, but Louis’s. It is calculating and predatory. I shiver the same time my eyes glow white. The dark magic courses through me so quickly that it pains my limbs after being absent for so long. My arms feel heavy and I doubt I could take a step if I tried.
“You will be a fine princess,” Liam hisses, obviously aroused by my eyes and my magical prowess surfacing. I cannot consider him anything but a dark witch. I look at him hollowly. This witch empties me without trying because he is not Finn.
“What if I do not wish to be anyone’s princess?” I say, regaining both my wits and blue eyes.
“I am afraid there is not a choice, Emmalina,” Liam responds. I expect his answer, though I push on.
“Am I to keep my emotions, then?”
“Do you crave to keep your emotions?” Liam asks while leaning around me to gaze at my window. “I would assume they only bring you pain. It is time for you to be corrected.” I sense Liam’s presence taking over my body, and my room—my personal realm.
“If I wish to die instead? That was my option before I left the circle.” It seems a simple request. He knits his eyebrows and looks genuinely pained by my request. He takes off his rich, purple velvet coat and hangs it over my wooden chair. The coat looks out of place and foreign…it is a trespasser.
“I am afraid I cannot oblige that request. You see,” Liam pauses when he is right in front of me. His eyes that are blue by spell are warm and endlessly full of something. “We are the same, you and I. It rests on my shoulders to bring more like us into the world.” He grasps a strand of my hair. It reminds me of when Finn would do the same. The same except not. I swallow deeply.
“All of this because of the color of my hair and eyes?” The insignificance of this infuriates me. When Liam starts shaking his head I know there is more.
“While those things add to your beauty and make you desirable by all, it has little to do with why you are here. Your human mother’s sordid affair was with the monarch of the entire Dark Citadel. His fall from grace and ultimate demise was unfortunate, but as his only heir, even only half-dark, you can remedy his name. Our children will rule the Dark Citadel, Emmalina. Not just this palace, but the entire land. The new monarchy is upon us…it starts with you.”
Eyes wide, I let his words sink in. One thing I cannot fathom is my mother with the king of this unfeeling world. She was a woman full of life and humming with the six. It is incomprehensible that she would choose to be with something so dark and sinister. Somewhere deep inside I already know with verity someone forced her to be with the monarch. Probably in the same manner that I am now being forced to be with Liam. It is why she never questioned my fate because something similar was part of her past.
“What does that make you to me?” I ask. I look at his blond hair glowing in the untrue light. The shape of his nose, the slant of his chin—I know the truth.
“Fear not, cousin. Our DNA is perfectly compatible. There have been many generations between us. When the old world fell, spells began passing years far quicker than you can imagine. Even the few remaining humans are unaffected by our time processes. Our magic makes it seem as if a year has passed when actually fifty have gone by unnoticed. Your human DNA makes you a stranger to my genetics. We will procreate successfully, bearing children with unmerciful beauty and strong minds.”
My human stomach forces me to run into the bathroom. I double over the futuristic toilet and watch as the finest meal I have ever eaten splashes into the water. His words cause riots in my body. Liam is still standing in the same spot when I exit. He is looking out my window, seemingly bored with our whole conversation.
“You say you will give me whatever I want?” I ask. He looks at me warily, but proud.
“What can I offer you?” I know what I am about to ask for is selfish, unkind, and lethal, but I do not care.
“I want a different factotum. I want a darkling from my circle. Lana. I want her here with me safe, emotions untouched. I will not be comfortable here without her. I also want to keep my emotions. I do not want any relationship with you other than what is forced for the correction,” I tell him as I raise my chin and straighten my shoulders. I know I wear my worn clothing, but he looks at me like I am regal—awe sparkles in his eyes. He silently nods his consent and rubs his hands together, deep in thought.
“A feeling princess. I like that. I think the people will like that. It is a dawn of a new age. I am also quite certain you will end up begging me to make you unfeeling,” Liam says robotically. I know that I will not, so I ignore him and ask my final question.
“When an heir is born, will I be released?” Maybe my mother was wrong, perhaps they will not kill me if he speaks the truth of my royal lineage. Liam smiles widely and my fear returns.
“Yes, you will be released.” I do not take his words for face value. His smile is corrupt and uneasy. I already know not to trust his false expressions. He pretends the way I used to.
“Please be ready for your coronation tomorrow morning. Our agreement about your correction will also commence tomorrow night.” I see through his words like the holographs in the hallway. They are translucent, yet firm. His blue eyes flash white with excitement. On a second thought, I ask for one more thing.
“I want my window to work,” I tell him. He shrugs one shoulder and tilts his head to the side. It is a very human gesture. He steadily leers, and then winks.
“As you wish, darkling princess.” When Liam leaves my room I realize what he has done. Instead of showing me outside the palace as I intended, he has made the window into Finn’s house a reality. Finn is there, in his house, staring darkly out his window. His eyes shine wet with unshed tears.
I scream as the terror of my new reality takes root in my heart.
Chapter Eighteen
July 19th, Morning
“I will not wear anything from that closet,” I tell Zeda. I want nothing to do with the fancy clothing with colors that make my head spin. I did remove a large dress from the closet to cover my window. Finn’s face haunts me. He just stares unblinking into the house that used to be mine. He looks empty. I will ask Liam to fix the window because Finn’s pain is unbearable, but I am sure it is Liam’s intent to prove my emotions are weakening me.
I did accept the breakfast Zeda brought to my room early in the morning. I have no problems ordering her around, as she feels nothing. Nothing I say offends her. As a test I told her I requested a new factotum because she was a freak, and she smiled and continued cleaning. Everything her hands touch sparkles a little more than it did before. Her magic is masking my things in tiny increments—making them newer, forcing me to forget.
“You must put on a dress for the coronation, miss,” Zeda says. I
glance at the closet with distaste, knowing she is right. I have no desire to anger Liam or the dark witches. For a slight moment, after taking a hot shower, I think I am glad to be in this place. After my skin cools I remember why I am here and what I will have to do tonight. No warm water will take the cold shiver from my spine when I think of sex with Liam.
I walk over to my window and run my fingers over the dark pink fabric of the dress that hangs there. “I will wear this one,” I say. I pull the dress down and look out the window. Finn’s house is vacant. I sigh in relief tinged with disappointment. Zeda has a large palette full of shimmering face paint sitting on my wooden table. I sit down and she paints my face as if I am a portrait. She gives me rosy cheeks and glossy lips. I keep my eyes shut as she sweeps a golden shade over my eyelids. I do not look in the gilded hand mirror she hands to me. Instead, I walk over to my wooden desk and pick up my broken piece of mirrored glass.
“I l—look,” I stutter, unable to find proper words.
“You look beautiful. Perfect, actually,” she says. The muted colors make my blue eyes stand out and my dark pink lips glisten in invitation—Liam’s invitation. Zeda has waved my blond hair and it swings past my bared shoulder blades.
She steeples her fingertips together and then draws them out toward the walls. A large mirror appears between her arms. It shines with an ethereal glow signifying magical properties.
“You do not have one in here,” she explains. My reflection shows the pink strapless dress and an unfamiliar face. I am relieved that at least my eyes are my own. Everything else is changed and polished to new standards.
“They will not be blue for long,” I whisper wistfully. I turn my face to break my line of vision. I pick up the sides of my dress and let the layers of fabric flounce around me. “Yes I’m just the perfect package to dress up, impregnate, and then kill. So poetic. I am ready. Can we leave now?” I ask. I am anxious to see outside of the walls of my room, though I am hesitant to leave the comfort of the known. The dynamics of the palace are foreign and I feel unease with the unknown. I put my hands on my hips. “Or am I to be contained in here for the rest of my life?” Zeda does not flinch at my harsh tone. She merely brings her hands together with a soft clap which causes the mirror to vanish.
“Of course your death is required. The prince couldn’t risk another monarchy in the challenging castles getting an heir on you. That would make another challenger. You do the job you are fated to do and then die a noble death. You should be proud,” she says. Her logic would have made perfect sense before, but now it proves how wrong the dark witches really are. I do not let Zeda see my anger. She must sense something because she finally adds, “Let us go, then, miss?” I nod once and follow her to the doorway.
Hoping she will give me more information, I ask more questions. “Tell me of the palace, Zeda. How many darklings are here?” I say. The holographs are fainter in the hallway. My eyes know not to focus on one point. They skim over everything, taking in the entire picture. There is no dizziness and I think perhaps I am already adjusting to this mystical world.
“It is unlike anything you have seen or felt. There are many darklings that reside in the Enchanted Palace, but unlike the princes from other lineages, Iliam has awaited his one true bride. He has not taken another before you as most princes do. Most of the darklings are only here because they want to be. Their correction isn’t necessary for our monarchy,” she says. I hate that she calls me his bride.
“How has your monarchy run before? Why the need for an heir now?”
“Because you are finally eighteen,” Zeda says simply.
“According to Liam, the world moves along in a furious pace. Would that not make me eighteen long ago?” Zeda glides down the hallway dragging her hand through images as she goes. I try not to watch the quivering ripples it causes.
“It would, but you needed to mature in body and mind. You are half-human so your body matured as a human’s would. You were not capable of carrying heirs until now. It is simple—the monarchy desires a change. They are bored with the status quo. You have been awaited.” My mother was slain because the monarchy became bored. Fury emanates from me. I want nothing more than to bring this castle down with my own two hands. Zeda glances back at me. “Your children with Prince Iliam will be so beautiful.”
Her vapid words cause my fury to boil over. My eyes glow white.
“You forget the last part of the story. I will die. Hopefully my hair is as beautiful in death as it is in life,” I nearly spit. My fingers are out, pointed at Zeda. I want to electrify her with her own intellect. I blame her for everything.
She turns and notices my dark magic pooling and smiles.
I smile for another reason. “Get away from me!” Bright gray lightening that originates deep inside my body leaves my fingers and throws Zeda down the hallway. She hits the wall and slides down, clutching her stomach as she goes. My body shakes as I hurry down the hallway to unleash more fury on her. There are no emotions in my body, just the need for her destruction. My mind has zoned into one task alone.
Liam opens a door to my left and it blocks my view of Zeda. He looks at me first with irritation and then his features soften into something more appreciative. Liam’s eyes are blue, but mine shine bright white. I take several deep breaths, but calmness does not come. Liam watches me speculatively, but says not a word.
“Get this insolate factotum out of my face,” I finally say, forgetting why I even wished her demise to begin with. Liam peers at the girl and then back at me. He lowers his brows and his lips press into a small smile.
“As you wish, my dark princess,” Liam says.
My hands automatically ball into fists at my side. The small movement reminds me of control. Reminds me that I need to control myself. I do not want magic to control my mind. I want to control it. I look down at Zeda’s body as a few others with glowing eyes drag her down the hall and I feel horrified. I have hurt her. I worry for Zeda. My magic is gone and I feel regret.
“She is quite fine. You have a mob of factotums that will gladly take her position. That is, until I fetch the darkling of your choosing,” Liam says. I want to tell him I do not wish Lana to come anymore, but the words do not come. I think it is because I know that if I have any hope of keeping small pieces of myself I need her. Liam laces his arm through mine as we exit through the door in which he came.
“You look magnificent, Emmalina. Breathtaking, ravishing, and wearing your true nature, you look a perfect fit,” he says as we walk down another corridor adorned with more holographic photos and shifting images. Extravagant gowns line the hallway. It is upon closer inspection I realize dark witches wear these gowns. Their eyes curious, their black hair waved in uniformed perfection. They do not speak, they only watch me with empty expressions.
I see a hologram and at first, do not recognize that it is of myself. I appear as a dark witch, my human qualities are indistinguishable. The image soon undulates and then vanishes. I ease at Liam’s side as if relieved the dark witch buried deep inside my body is gone. He presses his hand into the crook of my elbow. There are glowing doors before us. Shining bright, blinding light streaks through the glass panes.
“Are you ready?” Liam asks.
“I do not know what to expect,” I tell him. He squeezes my hand in a warm gesture, but my body does not respond to him or his cold touch.
“Expect perfection. This is for you, Emmalina. This is all for you,” he tells me. His words are devoid of any emotion, so they do not calm me. I reach for my necklace and feel the small red gemstone by my throat. Finn’s heart. That is perfection, I think to myself.
I walk out onto the grandiose balcony overlooking a crowd of bright eyes all trained on me. I do not see faces, or particular buildings in the distance. I notice a sun glowing fiercely in the sky. I know it is not real, but a glamor cast to impress their false city. I feel no heat as my mother described in her stories, but a smile spreads across my face regardless.
Li
am glances at me with a look of fondness and pride. I am glad he cannot read my mind because he would know my smile has nothing to do with him or his palace, but with my sweet memories.
I think how magnificent the rays of light would look bouncing off Finn’s hair. And when I watch the light dance on my skin, I know the exact shade of light brown my mother’s eyes would have looked with her head tilted toward the sky.
A peal of laughter escapes me. I expect hostility from Liam at my outburst of emotion, but he stares at me quietly, as if trying to decipher a strange code. He clenches my hand a little tighter in his and one corner of his mouth wedges up.
A witch with gray magic encasing his body addresses the crowd of beings below us, but I do not hear his words. I study Liam’s face. With his eyes blue and affection transforming his features, I wonder for the first time if he truly cannot ever feel.
If he can—if my acting is on point—perhaps I am strong enough to save my own life.
Chapter Nineteen
July 19th, Midday
Liam’s palace is large. It is hard to tell what is spell induced and what is solid, and I suppose that is the point. I learned in my studies as a girl that all monarchies in the old world were built upon facades and falsities. The Enchanted Palace is no different. Unlike royalty I am familiar with, he bestows me with a necklace that chokes me, instead of a crown. The collar is comprised of precious gemstones. I smiled when Liam wrapped it around my neck during the coronation ceremony. I am happy it hides Finn’s heart. Now I will never have to take it off.
Images of me in witch form are littered throughout the palace. The holograms are familiarizing the witches with my presence. I fear the images.
“Can I be projected with blue eyes instead?” I whisper to Liam. We are sitting on simple chairs in the front of a large rectangular room. The witches in their fine clothing, adorned with colors I cannot describe, merely stare at us. I notice a pair of eyes in the back of the room that flicker from white to a matte color. I know she is a darkling. I yearn to know her, to talk to her.
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