by Emma Hamm
“Master, she’s rather… genius.” The Dread twisted its fingers together, a nervous tick the creature had always had. “She created crutches for herself out of broken table legs. I’ve never met a woman like her before.”
“Creating crutches isn’t difficult.”
“But a woman doing so? She has these ideas and things she says—”
That wouldn’t do. The woman couldn’t be putting thoughts into the heads of his people. They were already too fragile. They listened to him and him alone, but they had never really been exposed to the outside world. Once they were his, they forfeited their memories.
He couldn’t have her twisting their thoughts away from him. The King leaned forward and interrupted the Dread’s ramblings. “Do not listen to the words of one who does not understand us. She is human. Weak and therefore, flawed. Never forget that.”
The Dread gulped. “Understood, Master.”
The King leaned back in his chair, tapped a claw to his lips, and stared out the window of his personal study. He wanted to dismiss the Dread back to the hole from which it had crawled out, but this subject of the woman… It intrigued him. The anger that usually distracted him was silent.
So he continued the conversation, though it made him uncomfortable. “What has she been doing?”
“Not much, sire. Healing has been her main goal, or so she tells me. But she has asked for a few books.”
“Books?” He opened and closed his wings, restless at the thought of her in his library. His sanctuary. “What would she want with books? She’s nothing more than a peasant woman.”
“Apparently, she can read.” The Dread stood a little straighter when he said the words. As if he were… proud of the woman?
Not in the King’s chateau. He wouldn’t have any of his people falling in love with the little slip of a female he should have changed when he’d had the chance.
He stood to his full height, towering over the Dread who cowered. Rounding the desk he sat behind, the King approached the small creature with a snarl on his lips and sadistic intent in his steps. He wanted to hurt the Dread. He wanted to tear it limb from limb for stealing her attentions and for somehow garnering her trust when he was the one who had spared her life—
The King grabbed the Dread by the throat and lifted it up. He stared deep into the creature’s eyes, trying to see what made this one different from all the others. What was it about this Dread that made her talk to him?
“Master,” the beast croaked. “Please.”
“Silence,” he growled.
He continued to stare at the beast, turning it side to side as if there was maybe something in the set of its horns that was different. Perhaps it was the softened tips. Maybe this one was less terrifying than the rest of his army.
Certainly, she wasn’t intimidated by this one, and that was why she felt comfortable speaking with it. Maybe she had decided there was no threat from this one.
It was what he would have done. The King regularly surveyed the others to know who would be the one to challenge him, which ones of the Dread could defeat him.
There were none. He made certain no Dread lived that could someday rise and overthrow him.
He tossed the Dread back onto the floor and cared little that the beast crumpled. The Dread were hardy monsters. If they couldn’t withstand a little manhandling from him, then they didn’t deserve to be in his army.
He strode back to his desk, having discovered nothing in his attempt to understand the woman. For a moment, he’d felt that if he stared deep into this Dread’s eyes, he might peer into her mind.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case. A fool’s task, nothing more. And besides, he didn’t care what she was thinking or why she did the things she did.
He slumped back into his chair, sullen and angry once again. “Go back to her then,” he grumbled. “Do what you can to heal her.”
The Dread got up from the floor and rubbed its neck. “Understood, Master. Shall I feed her, then?”
The King sat up straight. He bared his teeth in a sudden flare of frustration and panic he’d never felt before. He pronounced his words carefully so the beast would not mishear him. “You haven’t been feeding her?”
“I’ve been feeding her. I just wanted to know if I should continue.” A sly grin spread across the Dread’s face. “It seems you want to keep her, Master. Should I plan on bringing the human food for a long time?”
Tricks and more tricks. He didn’t answer to the Dread; they answered to him. He should have killed the beast for daring to say such things, but he didn’t trust any of the others to not gnaw on her bones and ask for forgiveness later.
The King slumped back in his chair and waved a hand. “Do what you must to keep her alive. I haven’t decided what I wish to do with her just yet.”
“Understood, Master.”
“Dismissed, Dread.”
The beast turned toward the door but paused in the doorway. The King didn’t know what to think of the sudden confidence in the being’s shoulders or the way it suddenly held itself like a man, not a hunched monster.
It turned to look back at him. “Bernard.”
“Excuse me?”
“The woman has named me.” The Dread lifted its chin. “I am not a soldier in your army, and I see no reason why I might not have a name. She gave it to me, and I should like to keep it.”
The King felt his brows draw down in a terrifying expression with bared teeth and eyes that glowed red. But the Dread did not show any sign of fear. If anything, it straightened further and seemed to prepare itself for a fight.
She was naming his creature’s now? How dare she?
She had no right to come into his chateau and change things. She should be terrified. Cowering in a corner in fear his army would devour her limb from limb while he watched.
He let out a growl from deep in his chest. If the woman wanted to play games, then two could do so. “Advise her I would like her company at dinner tonight.”
“Master? She’s not healed enough to eat with the army—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he interrupted. “It’s not a choice for her, but an order. She will join us for dinner.”
The Dread, Bernard, swallowed hard. “As dinner, sire?”
The King leaned back and let a slow grin spread across his face. “That remains to be seen. We’ll see how well she behaves.”
Chapter 15
Amicia stared at the dress Bernard held out to her with mouth agape and eyes wide. “You want me to… what?”
“Put on the dress and go to dinner with the King.”
“Just the King?”
Bernard hesitated, then shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“He wants me to have dinner with the Dread, I assume his most trusted members, wearing that.” She pointed at the ugly thing Bernard held out to her and wanted to disappear into the floor.
The mere thought of eating while in the presence of the other Dread made her want to vomit. She wouldn’t keep a bite of that food in her stomach, and she’d be lucky if she didn’t throw it up all over the dinner table. They frightened her to no end. Not to mention she thought of them as monsters who went bump in the night. She couldn’t eat with the damned beings!
And the dress would make her look even worse than she already did. The yellowish pink color made her think of more vomit, so at least she’d be wearing the same color that she was tossing out of her stomach. It was also covered with a plethora of ribbons from the shoulders down the bodice and around the waist. It looked like a little girls’ dress, just adult-sized.
Bernard shook the dress out a bit and held it back out to her. “It’s a rather pretty dress. I found it myself.”
The puppy-dog look in his eyes was not playing fair. She couldn’t tell him no when he was so proud of the item he’d found. Maybe this was in fashion back when the chateau hadn’t been overrun by monsters.
Amicia relented and reached for the dress. She held it up to her body f
or his inspection. “How will it look?”
The happy expression on his face melted into one of utter disappointment. “Well, that’s not your color I suppose.”
Of course, it didn’t look good. She could have told him that just moments ago. But he was disappointed, and she didn’t want him to look like that. He’d worked hard to find the dress in a ruined palace like this. “Oh, it’ll be fine. We’ll just snip a few of these ribbons off, toss them into my hair, and I’ll be ready for dinner with a king.”
A dinner where she threw up on said king, but that was all right. Such was the only fate she thought he deserved. The beast could wallow in vomit for the rest of his life, and she still wouldn’t be happy.
“Help me get it over my head?” she asked. “At least it doesn’t have sleeves, Bernard. I’ll be able to fit my cast through it. See? You were thinking in the right direction.”
He helped her get it over her head and then smoothed it down her sides, pulling her arm through the hole even though she let out a whimper. The leg was easier to deal with. She didn’t have to use it that much now that she had the crutches. But the arm ached.
At least her ribs weren’t pulling as much. They were still broken, but the tight binding helped. She could breathe again.
Once Bernard had gotten her into the dress, he took a step back and stuck out his tongue. “No, that’s terrible.”
She was certain it was. Probably the worst thing he’d ever seen in his life, and that was saying something.
“Well…” Amicia glanced down at the dress. “It’s a good thing I’m not looking for a husband then. In fact, I’d rather be unimpressive to the rest of your kind. Maybe they’ll leave me alone.”
“I doubt that,” he muttered. Stepping forward, Bernard started to snip off some ribbons and the bows at her shoulders. “They’re all fascinated with you.”
“With me?” Amicia couldn’t understand why. They had hunted her, she’d survived, and now she hid in the kitchens with the Dread who seemed like the only servant in the entire place. “That seems rather silly. Don’t they have kingdoms to bring to their knees?”
“Little Marsh was the last. There are no other towns for us to focus upon. The King is at rest.”
“The last?” Amicia knew that couldn’t be true. There were plenty of other places who had never even heard of the Dread. Her father used to tell her stories from his travels where people knew nothing about the beasts who plagued them. And those stories were from a short time ago. “But there are other kingdoms.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned it. Maybe the Dread didn’t know there was a world out there who hadn’t heard of them.
Had she doomed another kingdom to the same fate?
Bernard hung one ribbon over his right bottom fang, apparently to keep for later in her hair. “There are plenty of other kingdoms, mademoiselle. But they are not ours to condemn. We are here for this kingdom, and this kingdom alone.”
“That makes little sense. If you’re pillaging and plundering, why wouldn’t you continue when your own kingdom has finally been brought to its knees?” Again, she warned herself to stay silent. These creatures might not have thought far ahead and she should keep her mouth shut giving them ideas.
“The King decides these things,” Bernard replied with a shrug. “It’s not for me or the others to say. Now, they are focused upon you and the questions that come with you. We do not know why the Master has allowed you to live, and yet, here you are. Alive and well with me as your manservant.”
Amicia snorted. “Manservant? Unlikely. I’d call you a strange new friend, nothing less.”
He paused in his snippings to stare at her with wide eyes. The ribbon started slipping off his fang, which she reached up to catch with her good hand.
Bernard barely reacted to the movement. Instead, he asked, “You consider me a friend?”
“Well, you saved my life.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t save your life. The master did. He bid me to take care of you, but he is the one who carried you here.”
“Taking someone to a healer doesn’t make them a savior.” She refused to think of the terrible beast as the man who had saved her life. He’d tried to take it.
“But he was the one who—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Bernard. Besides, dinner is about to be served, is it not? I need you to finish fixing my new dress.”
Perhaps her words were a little desperate, but she couldn’t listen to him sing the praises of the monster who had tried to kill her. She was just finding herself comfortable around this Dread. The last thing she wanted was for him to paint himself as a beast along with his master.
Bernard kept his mouth shut and finished snipping off the ugly ribbons, although some remained stitched into the shoulders and at the bodice. The dress was ugly, but perhaps that was better.
She didn’t want them to think she was pretty. She didn’t want to be the lovely tinker’s daughter who made people smile when she walked by. Amicia had left that girl behind.
Now, she wanted to be a woman who made people look away. A ghost, a shadow who remained in the corners of the world, not having to worry about others seeing her.
She wanted to be invisible. If an ugly appearance could accomplish that, then she would cover herself in mud and disappear forever.
Bernard stepped back and touched a claw to his chin. “You’ll do, I suppose. Although, the dress is…”
“Terrible?”
“That’s a decent enough word for it.”
Amicia reached for her crutches and tucked them underneath her armpits. “These will only make it worse.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone arrive at a noble dinner with those.” Bernard cleared his throat. “But you have caused a stir already. I suppose it’s no surprise you’ll continue doing so.”
Amicia didn’t want to garner any more attention with her presence, however, she couldn’t move without her crutches. Letting out a frustrated huff, she made her slow way to the door. “Where is this dinner?”
“The formal dining room.”
She waited for more direction, then sighed when he remained stock still in her room. “Which is?”
The scraping of nails on the floor sounded as Bernard raced after her to show her the way. He might play the role of a lady’s maid, but he had clearly never been in this role. Even Amicia knew a lady would be shown where the dining room was, not just told.
He stepped ahead of her and they made their arduous journey to the dining room where she hoped she wouldn’t be feasted upon. Her palms grew slick on the rungs of the crutches, making movement a little more difficult than usual. Somehow, the pain in her body seemed to worsen with every step toward the beast who had done this to her.
The monster who had taken away her graceful walk. The beast who had wanted to see her dead. The nightmare whose red eyes still plagued her dreams.
Bernard stopped in front of twin doors stretching higher than two men. They were solid gold, smooth like a mirror, and reflected her terrified expression. Staring into her own wide eyes, Amicia forced her face to relax.
“Are you ready?” Bernard asked, his hands placed against the surface of the gold.
She wanted to tell him he would leave fingerprints on such glorious doors, but couldn’t seem to open her mouth. Her teeth chattered as she nodded.
Would this be her last moment alive? What waited for her behind that door?
Bernard shoved it open and revealed the golden dining room beyond. Three glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Thousands of candles decorated the walls and the ceiling, some so high she couldn’t imagine how they had ever been lit. A long mahogany table took up the entire room. A white silk runner covered the wood, and golden plates sat at each padded seat.
One of the Dread sat upon each silken cushion in uncomfortable looking chairs that were solid gold. They looked ridiculous seated like people. Their wings folded over the back of the chairs, most wearing torn shirt
s that stretched over their muscular, deformed bodies.
As one, they all turned to stare at her in silence. The nearest one fiddled with something underneath the table, then let out a slow hiss. Its eyes flared with bright light, and its wings twitched the moment it saw her.
Amicia’s stomach clenched even though none moved. Oh, they wanted to. They would always want to continue the hunt.
Bernard whispered behind her, “Don’t just stand there. You’re the guest of honor.”
She swallowed hard. She might be the guest, but where was she meant to go? She was a peasant woman. Fancy dinners back home had been in someone’s root cellar with cards thrown about, mead flowing a plenty, and laughter so loud the neighbors would bang on the door to complain.
Dinners weren’t anything like this. No one stared in silence, nor did they sit with their backs as straight as the chair they sat upon.
Amicia’s gaze trailed up the table until she saw him. The beast who deserved a dagger plunged into his breast. The monster who had tried to take everything from her.
The King of the Dread stared back at her with an apathetic gaze. He slouched in his chair as if he were bored, the only person at the table with poor posture.
A single chair was vacant beside him.
She took a deep breath and flexed her hands on the rungs of the crutches. She had to sit next to him. That was the expectation. What little bread she’d eaten this morning pushed against the back of her throat, threatening to come back up in an explosive rejection of this dinner.
Nostrils flaring with her inhale, she started down toward the chair. Each click of her crutches hitting the white marble floor sounded like the cracking of bones. Perhaps her own, once she sat down next to their king.
Amicia tried not to slow as she approached him, and yet, she did. It was a slow crawl until she made it to his side and stared down at the chair. She’d have to balance on her good leg to pull the chair out, which meant she would be off kilter. Perhaps that was when they would take advantage of her, flip her onto the table, and tear into her belly. Or would they turn her into one of them?