Fear gripped my chest, making breathing impossible. “He told me he wouldn’t hurt me,” I said brokenly, tears welling. The ache… the fever is coming back.
She sighed. “His idea of pain is… quite different from ours.”
Backing against the wall, I looked to the ceiling, wondering if there was a God here to pray to. The icicles mixed with the chandelier, casting drop-like bursts of light to the marble floor below. “And his army hates me?”
“He has prolonged their hatred for… generations.”
With that, she quietly left me alone.
The shower poured hot water, and I stood beneath the stream, ignoring the array of soaps and shampoos and coughing until I felt like I’d throw up. Helena waited until I turned the water off, wrapping me in an oversized towel that matched the bathroom walls.
Back in the bed, I turned on my side, the smooth pillow case cool against my cheek. She urged me to swallow two more pills, moving to close the dark curtains at the window.
I watched her hand still in the air, almost reaching the braided, tasseled cord of the curtain. “Oh…,”
“What?” I breathed, another coughing spasm jerking my body violently.
She turned to me, her face filled with wonder. “It has stopped snowing. It slowed when the infant arrived two days ago, and now has completely… stopped.”
“How long has it been snowing?”
She drew the curtain, her voice empty. “All of my life.”
I stared at my hands curled against the sheet. She moved to me, removing something from her pocket. “You will bring the sun,” she whispered, pressing the object into my open palm.
Unfurling my fingers, I gazed at my hand against the sheet.
West’s ring.
Gripping the diamond, I closed my eyes.
“… the physician. She worsens with the hour.”
I stirred, blinking twice before bolting upwards and smacking my head against the colossal headboard. Helena reached for me, patting my hand softly, and I welcomed her grandmotherly gesture.
Troy’s face came into focus, and I cowered, hauling the sheets up to my chin. “Where is Logan?”
“I’m here, Cam,” his voice, like an angel’s, sent a flood of relief through my body. I gasped, coughing spasmodically as I reached for him. He gave a sideways glance at Troy, who nodded once.
Logan moved to my bedside, holding me tightly. “I’m sick,” I wheezed, sniffling. He reached for a tissue, handing it to me.
“You’re such a baby when you have a cold.”
His familiar jibe was comforting. “I need some Mucinex.”
“You’ll be awake for two days. You know what that does to you.”
“I don’t care. I can’t breathe,” I heard all of my t’s like d’s, my nasal cavity compacted.
“The doctor thinks it’s developing into pneumonia.”
Troy stood next to Logan, and I recoiled. “Logan has agreed to serve me. I have yet to determine if he is genuine in his fealty.” He gave Logan a pointed look, and Logan turned to me, handing me another tissue.
“I agreed to serve him because he promised not to hurt you.”
“You’ll leave me alone?” I brushed at my nose with the tissue, the pressure adding to my growing headache.
Logan’s face changed to the controlled fury that I’d learned to recognize over our life together. “He won’t hurt you,” he repeated, disgust holding his gaze to the sheet, rather than my face. “Please… don’t fight him.”
“What?” I shook my head, rasping, brushing at my tears when Logan finally looked me squarely in the eyes.
“Just do what he says. Don’t fight. Don’t argue,” he swallowed hard as I shook his hand away from mine, slicing him with my heated glare.
“I will never stop fighting! You won’t touch me,” I broke into coughs again, my lungs constricting at the force of my hacking gasps.
“No, I won’t, not until you’re well,” Troy retorted, cringing.
“You’re bringing their sun back,” Logan gestured to the window. “Everyone in the kingdom is… rejoicing. They want you to stay.”
“How am I bringing the sun?” I lay back against the pillow, too tired to continue the strange conversation any longer.
Troy’s eyes swept over my face. “Your baby lives, and she’s prophesized to bring the sun. The fools think your presence is heating our world.”
“Go away,” I moaned, turning away from him. “I won’t let you touch me,” I repeated pathetically, a low rumble all I could manage in my chest as the urge to cough hit once more.
He answered me with silence.
Chapter Two
The next ten days left me weakened. Logan was not permitted to visit again, but Troy came in every day, near the evening. I dreaded the sound of the door, knowing his heavy-booted footsteps could mean that he would choose that night to attack me. Instead, he spoke about the sun, and how the melting snow and ice made the waters rise around the castle, and of the work being done on the bridge.
I stared at the window, silent, until he left.
As I began to feel stronger, I spent my days in the luxury of my prison, eating the meals that were prepared from fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats. The foods served were a cornucopia of the centuries, everything from swan meat and cheese to gourmet pizza. Helena explained that every time Troy returned, he brought things with him from the other world. The ideas, logic, luxuries, and politics were all variations of what my world offered, all adjusted to suit Troy’s rule.
I broke into tears when I’d think of West and Eva, fighting fevered emotions. I went from agonizing heartache and fear to anger and jealousy, and finally, the crushing guilt that I would feel after cursing him for leaving me was devastating.
You told him to go. Eva is safe. You knew they couldn’t return without a massacre.
Furious with Logan and his orders to submit to Troy, I rehearsed a dozen different ways I’d tell him that he was a coward.
Ultimately, I’d cry, just thankful that Troy was letting him live.
Making an effort to occupy my mind as much as possible, I asked Helena for a pen and paper, for making notes of my surroundings and keeping track of the days.
Troy refused my request.
The more I learned about the kingdom, the more curious I became. Their world was not a duplicate of ours; people existed in and of themselves. How many other worlds are there out there? I found myself wanting to know the history of their world, and hoping that it would somehow help me escape.
With no books to read, music, television, or internet, Helena taught me several card games, and I began to enjoy one called Primero. Similar to poker but with beautifully painted cards, there was a wager, and the object was to gain the highest possible hand.
After winning for the second time, I shifted in the bed, tugging at the strap of the white nightgown that slid down my shoulders. “Why does everyone wear these heavy clothes? Only gowns for women… all these jewels… do you know that people dress differently in my world? In jeans, like what I wore here?”
“His majesty does not approve of the attire in your world.” She lowered her voice, gathering the cards.
“You know he’s a murderer, right? He killed me. He held me under the water in a swimming pool until I died. Logan pulled me out of the pool, and my… fiancé… had to revive me.”
She stiffened, standing prim. “I know that you do not understand, or maybe you do and do not care, but to call our king a murderer is treasonous. Punishable by death.”
“He already plans to kill me, who cares.” I cleared my throat, thankful to be able to take a full breath of air without coughing.
“He has no such plans, not while our land thrives. I’ve heard him speak to you. He is kind with you. I have never seen him… this way.”
“Kind?” I threw the covers back on the bed, bursting to my feet. “There is a condition known as Stockholm Syndrome where I come from. Allow me to explain it to you.”
/> “That won’t be necessary. Leave us, Helena.”
At Troy’s even voice, Helena nodded at me once before turning to him, curtsying, and heading for the door.
He carried a stack of three books in his hands, lowering them to the table where I took my meals. Pressing my lips together, I reached for a thin blanket from the bed, wrapping it around me. “Oh, yay. Something to read. Not like I couldn’t have used those ten days ago.”
“Ten days. Good, you’re keeping track,” he crossed his arms over his broad chest, and I realized with scorn that he appeared healthier. No longer starving in a basement.
“I asked for a pen and some paper. You said no. I resorted to scratching tally marks into the wall.”
“Sounds like you’ve gained your energy back.”
Tightening the grip on the blanket, I took a step in reverse. “If you think bringing me a couple of books and droning on about the landscaping will win me over, like some psychotic Beauty and the Beast scenario, you’re even crazier than I thought.”
He chuckled. “I have no intention of ‘winning you over.’ My attraction to you is purely physical. As soon as you open your mouth, I’m dreaming of water rushing into it.”
His words were like narrowly missing a car accident, sending my heart into rapid, mislaid beats. Tremors began in my hands, and I took another step back.
“Oh, I see you’ve lost your courage. You’re going to need it tonight.”
Shuddering, I took a deep breath. “West will make you suffer.”
He blocked the door and began unlacing his surcoat, fixing his eyes below my neck. Already I’d surveyed the entire room, noting the lock in the bathroom. I bolted for the inner door, trying to slam it and fumble with the handle. The door was stuck, and the moment I realized the blanket draped around me was lodged in the crack, he shoved, sending me backwards and to the ground.
“Please,” I panted, trying to stand. He dropped to the floor and knelt over me, pinning my forearms to the marble surface. The force of his nightmare strength held my chest and rendered me immobile. Don’t cry, don’t faint.
I waited for him to put his mouth on mine, and then snatched his lower lip between my teeth and clamped down. He roared, and I tasted his blood as his fingers slapped to my neck and crushed until I let go. I grabbed at his wrist, desperately trying to pull his arm away.
“I told you that I won’t hurt you, if you submit. Stop fighting me.”
I nodded, tearful, wheezing as he released his damaging hold. After a second, I lifted my head from the floor, as if waiting for his kiss.
His eyes glazed, and he lowered his lips to mine. In lifting my head, I created just enough distance to rear back and slam my forehead into his with a force that had me seeing stars.
I was in the air being thrown to the bed, and my cheekbone smashed against the headboard. Reaching for the pain in my face, I left myself unguarded as he attacked.
My nightgown was in shreds in seconds. Trapped to the pillow as my hair stuck beneath my shoulders, his body covered mine. When I finally comprehended that I couldn’t fight him, his mouth moved to my chest, his teeth nipping my skin.
I slipped away, anxiety creeping in and stealing my ability to breathe.
As I slowly regained consciousness, nausea struck as his tongue lapped at my neck. I turned my face away from him and gagged, choking and retching while vomit splashed against the sheets.
Vaguely aware of his cursing, I watched as he stopped fumbling with his pants and lurched away from me. “Helena!”
I gagged again and turned over, now that his weight was off of me, and threw up on the floor. My face lay in the pool of my own bile. Helena hurried to me, her gentle hands on my bare shoulders. “Clean her up!” He bellowed, rushing from the chamber.
“My queen…,”
I broke into sobs, letting her help me to the bathroom as my legs refused to bend. Another maid entered, both of them working to bathe me while still others attended to the mess in the bed.
“I have to run,” I turned to Helena, my tears mixing with the warm bathwater. “I would rather die,” holding her gaze, I pleaded with her silently.
The wrinkles in her face drew lines of wisdom as she spoke. “Your life is valuable to many. Your body will heal,” she smoothed the sponge down my back, her brows pulling together at the bruises rapidly surfacing. “Do not anger him.”
“Where is Logan?” I whispered as the other maid moved into the bedroom for a fresh gown.
“He discovered his majesty’s intentions tonight. He has been detained in the jails below.”
“Why?”
“He tried to attack the king.”
Oh, Logan… I folded my face into my hands. She touched my cheek tenderly with the tips of her fingers.
“He is alive. He was spared… for you.”
“If you’re going to lec-ture me about how kind and gra-cious our king is, I’m going to thr-ow up again.” I sniffed, coughing, my shoulders rising and falling pathetically.
She dried me and helped me into a fresh nightgown. Another maid brought a fabric bag of ice, and I held it to my cheek. I have to search for a weapon… my eyes drifted to the books the monster had deposited on the table. Walking to them, I pushed at them with my fingertips, and then opened to the first page.
Icepond: A History… Biography of an Immortal King… The Rise and Fall of Icepond.
Icepond… pronounced ‘Isa-pond,’ according to the phonetic breakdown in chapter one.
Is this what this place is called? I jerked away from the table, watching the door open slowly.
Helena entered, carrying a teacup and saucer.
“Thank you,” I whispered, accepting the cup and sipping the honey tea. I welcomed the heat to my irritated throat. She nodded once, clasping her hands at her waist.
After I’d finished most of the tea, she cleared her throat. “His majesty intends to cross tonight and punish you… with your sister.”
“No,” I let the teacup slip from my fingers, and it shattered on the stone at my bare feet. “No, please ask him… please ask him to come to me,” I cried, swaying and gripping the back of the chair. I can convince him not to go… I have to.
Helena nodded once, leaving the room. I waited, my cheek throbbing less as the room faded and became cloudy. The light, numb feeling before West arranged for my eye surgery resurfaced, and I stared at the teacup on the ground, sliding my leaden feet to the bed.
Helena’s words moved slowly through my mind.
I will try to protect you as much as I can.
The door burst open as I lay back on the clean pillow, fighting to keep my eyelids from closing. Troy’s face went in and out of focus. “Please don’t… hurt my sister,” my words slowed, but whatever drug I had just ingested did not offer the instant unconsciousness that the Oxycodone had before. I was aware of my surroundings, the room, the lights…
And Troy.
“Submit.”
My breathing labored, and I pushed against his chest with what little strength I had. “I want to go home,” I moaned as he slid over me.
“You are home,” he growled, his mouth at my neck.
I am in the cottage at the shore.
Elvis Presley’s smooth baritone fills the room, and West is holding me, whispering in my ear that he can’t help falling in love with me. The whitewashed, hardwood floor is cool and gritty with sand under my bare feet.
The scent of his aftershave is strong as I press my face to his bare chest, reaching for him as he sways with me to the music.
“I told you that you’d dream about this,” he hushes, his lips catching mine.
“I miss you,” I speak into his mouth, and he smoothes his hand down my long hair and over my bare back.
“I love you, Roam.”
I turned inward. As the drugs began to wear off, the painful reality of his body on mine left me searching over and over again for unconsciousness. I’d wake for minutes, calculating small facts, like an estimate of th
e time, or voices near the door, but would press my bruised face against the pillow and hold my breath until I fainted.
Sleeping on and off for most of the following day, I had no dreams, but my waking moments were worse than any death I’d ever experienced in my nightmares. When a strange girl helped me to the bathroom, I fought her, locking the door and moving to the scalding hot shower stream. Distantly, I heard the key in the door, and two women pulled me from the shower, fussing over my raw, reddened skin. His majesty will be angry, they whispered, helping me back to the bed.
Troy came to me again that second night. Without the fog of whatever Helena had drugged me with, every detail of his hands on my body forced uncontrollable screams to my throat. He ignored me until I cried for West; at that point, he slapped me, threatening me never to speak his name again.
On the third day, I continued to refuse food and quit speaking.
Troy ordered Logan to my chamber. I lay on the ebony bed, the pyre of my nightly suffering, not moving as he was ushered in. His left eye was smudged purple and black, and bruises and cuts flawed his handsome face. He was not permitted to touch me, and guards stood on either side of him, holding him in chains.
“Cam,” his rough voice told me he’d been deprived of water. “Please eat. Don’t do this to me, or to West… or Eva. You’ll hold her again, I promise you.”
Feebly, I turned my face away from him on the pillow.
“You are brave,” he ordered, coughing drily. “Your dad was a hero… and so was your mom. You owe them more than that.”
My mother’s face drifted into my memory, and my mind focused on the folds of the blue scarf wrapped around her head. Dark blue, like West’s eyes.
“Don’t lose yourself, Roam,” he whispered before being shoved out of the chamber.
Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) Page 2