by Emma Hamm
“Why did you hesitate?”
“Because I’m uncertain that is correct.”
“How could it not be?” Amicia waved the book in the air. “You gave me this because you said it had the answers.”
“I thought it had the answers. I haven’t been able to read it myself.” He grinned. The large fangs in his mouth poked past his lips, looking all the more terrifying and strange. “You’re the only one who’s done so.”
“What an honor.” Amicia couldn’t stop the sarcastic tone of her voice.
She had thought being around him would be easy. She’d already decided there wasn’t anything she could do about the female Dread. Vivienne was just another obstacle between her goal, and as such, Amicia shouldn’t be upset because she wasn’t interested in him as anything other than a partner.
She couldn’t be interested. Amicia stared at him hard, reminding herself of all the oddities and differences. He had wings. Gray skin. Leathery appendages that flexed when he was angry. Not to mention the claws at the tips of his fingers, the strange feet and odd angle of his legs. He wasn’t human, and these reasons were more than enough to dislike him.
Softer thoughts trailed after she angrily picked apart his monstrous differences, however. He needed her to help him. His expression softened when he looked at her now. He wanted to know what happened in the past and had shown remorse for trying to kill her.
Amicia ground her teeth together and looked away. “I was reading another book in the library. It had an interesting passage on the relationship between the captor and captive.”
“Did it?” Alexandre shifted his wings until they draped around his shoulders like a cape. “Enlighten me.”
“Apparently it’s rather normal for a captive to feel some… fondness for their captor. After a while, the brain tries to convince the captive the person who is harming them psychologically is doing it because they care for the captive. Compassion soon follows.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” Alexandre asked dryly.
She was trying to put a little distance between them and force herself to realize these feelings weren’t natural. Amicia should hate him. She had hated him, only a month ago.
Amicia cleared her throat. “I’m telling you it’s survival, a way for the brain to explain the dependency upon someone who is trying to hurt me.”
“Are you trying to tell me you feel a certain sense of fondness for me, Amicia?”
He didn’t understand what she was saying at all if that’s what he took from this conversation. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she enjoyed his company. She didn’t. This entire ordeal was nothing more than a trial of her life. She would figure out his curse, leave, and then never think of this place again.
“No,” she replied, but her voice shook. “I am not telling you I’m fond of you or any of the other Dread here.”
“Bernard would be saddened to hear that. He has a fondness for you.”
“Stop saying that word,” she whispered. Her heart ached at the mere thought of hurting Bernard. That Dread had a heart of gold, and he cared whether or not she was comfortable. Now, all she could do was pray Alexandre would never tell the others about this.
“What word?” Alexandre leaned forward into her line of vision. Pieces of icy snow clung to his horns, glimmering in the early morning light. “Fondness?”
“It sounds unnatural coming from your lips.”
“This doesn’t have to do with Vivienne returning, does it?”
Amicia snorted, the sound ugly and cold coming from her lips. “No. It doesn’t. I don’t care at all who you consort with.”
“I know you were in the wall,” he replied, a calculating expression on his face. “You heard what we said, but I don’t know why you believed it.”
“Believed what?” Amicia’s jaw hurt she was grinding her teeth so hard. “That you and all the others here value humans as nothing more than animals? That you think so lowly of me, I am nothing more than a pet?”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“That’s exactly how you meant it, and I now know where I stand.” Speaking of, Amicia wouldn’t sit here any longer arguing with him and the little blue book he’d given her. She struggled to her feet and shoved the crutch underneath her armpit. “I have work to do.”
“You live here with all your desires at your fingertips,” Alexandre remarked. “What work calls you?”
“The only thing I have to pass the time,” she snarled. “Finding out what happened to you and your people so I can leave.”
Her heart ached. She didn’t want to tease him about the woman who had returned. She didn’t want to know why her stomach twisted at the thought of them together, or why he hadn’t denied consorting with Vivienne. He claimed he didn’t view her as a pet, but he hadn’t denied he thought of her as an animal.
“And where will you go when you leave?” he called after her. “There is nothing left out there, Amicia.”
“And whose fault is that?” She crunched through the snow, jerking her feet out of the holes she made even though it made her leg ache.
“I think you’re jealous!”
“Jealous?” She whipped around, nearly toppling over when her crutch stuck in the ground. “Jealous of what?”
He remained crouched where he had been, eerily still. For a moment, he looked as if he were the stone his people’s skin resembled. “I think you know,” he mumbled, his words drifting over the snow like wind. “Return to your library and safe places in the walls, petite souris. But I think you’ll always return to antagonize the cat who hunts you.”
She ground her teeth, and she turned away again. “Don’t think I like you, grande imbecile.”
“How could I ever think that?”
Amicia stalked back to the chateau, rounding the corner until she couldn’t feel his eyes on her back any longer. Beside the door, a rose bush bloomed where it hadn’t before. She was certain of it.
She stared at the frozen droplets of water suspended on each perfect petal. A rose bush in winter? Impossible. And yet, many things appeared impossible here.
Chapter 26
The Dread descended upon the table in the center of the Great Hall. The food piled high might have been delicious if Alexandre didn’t have to watch them devour the meat and vegetables like… animals.
Gods, he couldn’t get the conversation with Amicia out of his head. She hadn’t wanted to be viewed as a pet, and he didn’t think he had been viewing her as such.
But had he?
He watched as Vivienne, sat to his right, yanked an entire roasted chicken off a plate and bit into the side. In comparison, Amicia, down the table to his left, gently pulled a leg off one and then took the time to use her utensils. She sliced off a single piece, speared it with her fork, and placed it on her tongue.
Every bite was delicately taken. Every slice assured no food splattered or sprayed onto the table next to her counterparts who sat beside her and created a mess.
He sat at the head of the table, as always, but barely touched any of his food. Not tonight. He had too many thoughts in his head to consider eating like this.
Bernard walked by with another plate laden with food. He juggled so much, every night, and not once had he heard the other Dread complain. But now, he could see how much his manservant did.
“Bernard?” he called out, reaching out a hand and snagging the Dread’s apron sleeve. “Where does this food come from?”
The Dread shrugged. “The kitchens.”
“Yes, but where? Do we have a farm somewhere? Animals to slaughter when we desire it?”
Bernard’s gaze went foggy, staring right through Alexandre. “I don’t know, master. When we need food, it’s there.”
“So you haven’t been killing these animals yourself?”
“Should I?” He shifted the plate of food to his other hand. “I can try to send out some Dread for a hunt, but it would take time, and the others would starve b
efore they come back.”
Alexandre released the other man with a quick shake of his head. “No, there’s no need for that. It’s just… I hadn’t ever wondered where the food came from, and I don’t understand how we have so much. Fresh food even in winter is bound to raise questions.”
“It’s always winter here, Master.”
Bernard wandered off, leaving Alexandre with even more questions. Had it always been winter around his chateau? He thought there had to be summer at some point. They ate food that was always in peak season. There must be a garden and one of the other Dread delivered the food to Bernard to cook.
Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the vegetables as if they would grow legs and walk off the table. Impossible meals, so it seemed.
Alexandre leaned an elbow against the arm of his chair, chin on his fist. There had to be some explanation for all the strange traits of this place. He could almost feel the answer in the corner of his mind. He knew why things were like this in the chateau. But he couldn’t quite remember.
“My King,” Vivienne inquired, “are you not eating?”
He waved her off, dismissing her with ease. “I shall eat when I’m ready, General.”
“I am more than your general,” she replied with a chuckle. Some of the other Dread who had been eavesdropping also laughed. “Or have you forgotten so much?”
“I’m remembering more and more.” He remembered her before all this, or so he thought. It had to be her in his memories but… not.
The tangled snarl of black hair on her head had once shone in the sunlight like oil. He remembered brushing it, or perhaps just sliding his hand through the long locks reaching her hips. Yet, the hips he remembered weren’t gray as granite. They had been warm, caramel, and… He couldn’t remember anything else. It was as if someone had built a wall in his mind.
He remembered human skin. Which would make sense when he thought about it. All the Dread had been human once. Hadn’t he changed many of them himself?
And yet, in his mind, none of them had histories. They had always been Dread just as they remembered.
Why didn’t he remember their history if he was the one who had turned them?
A soft clink of utensils striking plate brought his attention back to the little human seated between monsters. Amicia’s gaze was on him, though her gaze flicked away the moment she saw him watching her.
They’d made so much progress, and all it took for him to lose momentum was the return of another female. Vivienne couldn’t hold a candle to the human woman. His mind returned repeatedly to Amicia’s sunburnt skin, the freckles dotting across her nose, or the mop of dark hair that curled so tightly he wondered how long it actually was.
Such a curl had fallen out of her thick braid. It swung next to her face, and he wanted to tug on it. His claw might slice it off, however. And as much as he wanted to have a keepsake from her, he couldn’t bear to separate something so beautiful from a woman such as her.
Snap out of it, he told himself. Humans weren’t obsessive over the Dread for any reason other than fear. And she had every right to fear him. Just as he had no right to think of her as anything other than his captive.
Feeling the burn of his general’s eyes on him, Alexandre looked back to the woman at his side. Vivienne stared at him with so much anger and hatred he wondered that he hadn’t burst into flame.
“Yes?” he asked. “Do you require my attention?”
“You stare at the human girl?”
He leaned closer with a hiss. “Your voice carries, General. I advise you to keep your temper and your tone on a tighter leash.”
“Why should I? Does it matter what one little human thinks?” Her eyes flashed bright yellow, and she clutched the arms of her own chair until he heard the scrape of her claws digging into wood.
“I care what the Dread think of me. Your little rumors will only go so far. You may have once been betrothed to me, Vivienne, but do not think I will allow you to test my good name. If necessary, I will do to you as I have done to so many others.”
“You would have me sent away?” She scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“I would tear you limb from limb and set you outside for the crows to feast upon. I will not lose this throne for a woman.”
Vivienne looked pointedly down the table at Amicia. “Are you so certain of that, my king?”
He stared with her, unable to keep his gaze from the human. A flash of something burned behind his eyes. It felt as if someone had stuck a needle through his socket, deep into his brain, but then a flash of memory appeared before him.
He was flying. High in the sky with misty clouds all around him, their peaks circular and fluffy. It looked for all the world as if he could walk upon the clouds themselves. And just out of the corner of his eye, a single gilded feather floated down from above.
“My king?” Vivienne asked again.
Through a tense jaw, he muttered, “What?”
“You’re cracking the table.”
Alexandre realized the chatter and loud noises from the table had ceased. Instead, all the Dread stared at him. His claws were dug deep into the wooden table, his wings spread wide and flared out behind him, each two men long.
Carefully, he drew his wings tight to his sides and tried not to shake his head. Even his horns ached, but it was his mouth that hurt the most. Had he bitten through his lip in his rush of memory?
“Alexandre?” Her light voice trailed down the table like a butterfly dancing toward him. “Might I fetch you something?”
“Ah, the human understands her place after all,” Vivienne replied. The female Dread leaned against the table, nearly climbing atop its surface in her sudden desire to hunt. “I had wondered why the servants were eating with us.”
Amicia’s back stiffened. Alexandre almost reached out and sank his claws through Vivienne’s back. She had no right to say a word to his little human, let alone insult her. He could end his general’s life; there were many who had fought for her position. They would do just as well as the female had.
But he had forgotten Amicia was no shrinking woman, nor a noble who needed a man to step in and save her. She was made of harder stuff.
His human charge tilted her head to the side and smiled. “When I am given the job of a servant, I will happily eat with them.”
“That can be arranged,” his general snarled.
“I await the order.” Amicia reached into her lap and set a folded napkin back on the table. Slowly, she pushed her chair away from the table and reached for her crutch. “I’m not so spoiled that hard labor frightens me. Nor do I view people who serve others as lesser, simply because they were not born into better circumstances.”
Vivienne dug her claws into the table, leaving gauges as deep as Alexandre had. “Are you suggesting I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?”
“I am suggesting you look down upon servants because you think their occupation makes them less than you.” Amicia tucked her crutch underneath her arm. “That is the sign of someone who doesn’t understand there are very few of your kind, and very many of mine.”
“Look how she squirms. See how uncomfortable she is in the presence of the Dread who were once nobility? Should the curse break, she would be eaten alive standing amongst beauty when she is nothing more than a dandelion. A weed growing in a rose garden,” Vivienne growled. “You are far outnumbered here.”
“I don’t believe I am.” She reached out and patted the shoulder of the Dread nearest to her.
Alexandre hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing her sling until that moment. She reached with her bad arm, the one he had remembered snapping like a twig when he’d thrown her. The arm moved correctly now, and she didn’t favor it, although he was certain she had only a few days ago.
The Dread shifted underneath her touch, the granite texture of his cheeks turning darker. Amicia smiled first at the Dread, then at Vivienne. “Louis was a mason. The lovely man next to him was a farrier. Bernard was a farmer.”
He was stunned, and it appeared so was Vivienne. She shifted back into her seat with a solid thud that rocked the table.
The Dread were remembering who they were? They were remembering their names?
Alexandre stared at her in equal parts shock and horror. Who was this woman who had wandered into his chateau uninvited, but somehow had changed so much?
Amicia continued, “Perhaps I was once outnumbered by the Dread, but now I’m proud to call them friends. Men and women whom I have met, who have introduced themselves and their history at this very dinner. You should do the same, Lady Vivienne. But never make the mistake to think I am alone or outnumbered here. I should hate to prove you wrong.”
With that, Amicia made her way out of the room. The echo of her crutch clicking against the marble floor was the only sound in the Great Hall. Not a single one of the Dread made a move, sound, nor reached for any more food.
Alexandre shifted back in his throne, propping his chin upon his clenched fist once more. The woman was an enigma, that was for certain. He did not understand what else she could change, but he looked forward to the possibilities.
“Are you going to let her speak to me like that?” Vivienne barked. “My King, I am the general of your army!”
“And she is the one who is researching how to break our curse.”
“You know the curse is sanctioned by the alchemists, and not a single person can know how to break it if they themselves claim it to be permanent.”
He watched the door that Amicia had exited, his eyes searching for the slightest of movements. Perhaps she would return. Perhaps being in her presence would give him another memory, another clue to who he was.
“If anyone could find the truth to what is happening here, it’s her,” he replied. “And I intend to give her every opportunity to try.”
Chapter 27
Amicia blew the hair out of her face, her armless linen dress tangling in her legs, and the box in her arms straining her healed arm. She shifted the weight. The wooden crate was from the kitchens, although Bernard would be distraught when he saw she had stolen it. Still, how else was she supposed to move all her things?