by Emma Hamm
“Before you came here, I was content with the way we lived our lives. We fed, we hunted, we survived in this wilderness of darkness and snow. Then you opened my eyes to all my people could be.” He stared into her eyes, yellow gaze finding hers from across the room so easily. “To what we once were.”
“It’s my pleasure to have awakened whatever I could.”
“That’s the strangest thing of all this. No one else reminds me of who I was. What I might have been before all this darkness descended upon my throne. I want to be a king who people remember and revere, not one whom they fear.”
Alexandre approached her then, his feet blocking out the light as he strode forward. Tiny stars disappeared in the wake of his darkness then burst into light as he left. He reached for her hands and clasped them close to his heart. He squeezed her fingertips then murmured, “You changed everything.”
His hands were so warm around hers. Calloused with use but dear to her now. So dear, and yet she didn’t know how he’d slipped underneath the walls around her heart. “I didn’t mean to do so much. It was unintentional, if that helps.”
Alexandre chuckled. “Take a compliment for once in your life, petite souris. You are a marvelous being. I’m only sorry it took me this long to realize just how much you have done.”
He drew her closer and, this time, she felt the breath leave her lungs far before his eyes drifted to her lips. He inhaled, somehow bringing her even closer. Or had she stepped closer herself?
“I haven’t given up on finding out what happened to you and your people,” Amicia said, licking her lips and trying to still the thunderous beating of her heart.
“Oh Amicia, I already know what happened.” His deep growl echoed through her chest. “Someday, I’ll tell you all the secrets I remembered.”
“Why not now?”
“Tonight, let me savor the feeling of you in my arms. Let us not be the captor and captive, but Alexandre and Amicia. Together, in the dying light of the sun.”
Her entire body tensed, waiting for him to finally break the barrier between them. She stepped closer so she could inhale all that he exhaled. So she could finally understand what it felt like to kiss a man as close to a god as one could get.
Perhaps, in the future, he would say she moved first. When his lips brushed hers, it felt as though they had kissed a thousand times before. Velvety soft, he caressed her mouth with his own, tender and quiet. Not the kiss she had expected from a monster.
She’d thought he would try to devour her, but instead, he consumed her very soul. Alexandre tunneled his hand underneath her hair, holding the back of her head while stroking her cheek with his thumb. His other hand curved around her waist, holding her in place, but so tenderly it made her feel fragile.
With a simple movement, he pulled her into his arms while he continued to kiss her. He shifted their bodies into a slow waltz, his arms holding her, his lips captivating her, and she knew what it meant to have her heart sing.
The symphony inside her head rivaled that of the noble musicians. She knew now what it meant to have a devil steal her soul. And to never want it back.
After what felt like hours and yet must have been only mere moments, he drew back enough to stare down at her with a soft smile. He stroked the highest peak of her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “I would go to the ends of the world for you, mon coeur.”
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She turned her face then, pressing her cheek against his shoulder and holding him close to her thundering heart.
Mon coeur, my heart.
Just before she closed her eyes again, to savor the gift of this moment, he flexed his wings to balance them in a grand spin. Before her eyes, leathery wings turned white as snow and a single feather fell to the floor.
Chapter 32
They returned to the ballroom, and Alexandre was immediately swept away by the Dread and alchemists. Amicia was nothing more than the human girl who didn’t fit in. But for the first time, he looked over his shoulder and winked as he left.
She wasn’t alone, anymore. Even when she stood in the center of the ballroom with a crowd of people ignoring her.
His wings had returned to normal. For a moment, she wondered whether she had imagined the moment. The white wings. The feathers falling like snow. Such gilded beauty was burned into her eyes, however. She could see them when she let her lids fall shut.
Perhaps now the book would have something else to tell her. No one would miss her presence if she slipped away for a few moments. There must be something new on the pages. It would tell her what was happening.
Telling no one where she went, Amicia slipped out the ballroom doors and raced toward the library. She’d only be gone for a few moments.
The library doors slid open silently. She hiked up her skirts and ran to the place where she’d left the little blue book. Right next to the nest of blankets that made up her bed, far more comfortable than the mattress she had left in her old room.
Skidding to a halt, she stopped and stared at the table where the blue book had rested.
“Gone?” she whispered.
Certainly not. She was careful where she’d placed it. The pages held the secret to her release, and she wouldn’t have misplaced the volume. It held everything between its covers. All the important things that had led her to this moment. To this explanation, this proof, why she had seen gilded feathers when she held Alexandre in her arms.
“Looking for this?” The voice was raspy, as though years of smoke and sacrifice had turned the bearer’s throat into dust.
Amicia fisted her hands in the voluminous fabric of her skirts and turned to stare at the man standing behind her.
The red robe revealed nothing of the face in the shadows of its folds. Oozing liquid dripped from the top of his head, the wet plops echoing in the library. But the alchemist reached out a skeletal hand, white and tattooed in unreadable marks. Her book was clutched by bony fingers, a single smear of blood across the cover.
She swallowed hard and tried to hide the shaking of her hands in the folds of her skirts. “I was, thank you.”
“This book is a magical book,” the man said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Did you know that?”
“There’s no such thing as magic.”
“Oh there is, you innocent little thing. A tinker’s daughter, isn’t it? Florin and Amicia of Little Marsh, the family who knew so much about the world. And yet, your father never taught you magic and science go hand in hand?”
He knew too much. So much more than she’d ever told the Dread.
She took a single step back. Somehow, the movement brought with it the metallic scent that wafted off him. “Do I know you?”
“No.”
“How do you know all that, then?”
The alchemist shrugged, the book still held out for her to take. “I know many things, as do all the alchemists who protect this place. But do you protect the chateau? Or have you come to destroy all we have wrought?”
She remembered what the book had said. That the alchemists were not to be trusted, and they only did things for themselves. They were the ones who had started another war with their crimson banners.
Amicia ground her teeth, straightened her shoulders, and refused to cower before this man. This creature who was the real monster within the walls of the chateau. “I do not intend to destroy, but to heal. I wish to know what happened here, so I can leave.”
“You want to return home? Your home is gone. Your people are the Dread. They do not wait for you in that haunted, abandoned place. Little Marsh is nothing compared to the chateau.”
“Little Marsh will always be my home.”
“You would do well to remain here, mon cherie.”
Gooseflesh danced up her arms at the sound of such an endearment on the tongue of the alchemist. She reached out and snatched the book from his hand. The sight of him touching her only hope at freedom, her only hope to leave… it gutted her.
“Th
ank you, but I would like to return all the same.” She held the book away from her dress, ensuring the blood didn’t smudge the beautiful fabric. “I don’t trust you.”
“Nor should you. The end of this story is near, and I don’t intend for you to ruin all we’ve worked for.” Slowly, the alchemist bowed his head. For the briefest of moments, she saw what was underneath the robe. The soaked fabric had fallen to the side. Beneath, the alchemist was nothing more than a scarred ruin of what a body should be. Black marks, like scorched bits of flesh, covered a bald head that was mottled and pockmarked from years of abuse. But it was his eyes that frightened her most of all.
Eyes sunken into a skull that shouldn’t have been alive. Flat eyes, blind but somehow seeing. He grinned when he caught her staring. There were no teeth left in his mouth, just an open maw of darkness threatening to swallow her whole.
“The secrets you wish to discover are hidden within those pages,” he said. His voice was warped by the missing teeth and the scars traveling throughout the length of his destroyed body. “But you will not like them.”
“The book hasn’t led me wrong yet.”
“Perhaps you should give up now.” The alchemist straightened and adjusted his hood. Monstrous form hidden once more. “Such a beautiful thing you are. I’d hate to see you break.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“I hope so, for what that book will beckon you to do will shatter even the strongest of resolves.” The alchemist turned and left the library. But a smear of blood showed his trail.
The moment he left, Amicia frantically opened the book. “Please, please,” she whispered as she thumbed through the pages, though she knew not for what she begged.
New pages burst into life. She skimmed them, but they weren’t what she wanted. Just information, the history about the Celestials she would read later. None of this answered her questions.
Until she landed on the last page of the book, suddenly full of information it had never wanted her to read. And there, on the last page, were the words that made her heart hesitate to beat.
Amicia read the words out loud, her voice choking in her throat. “The curse of the Dread is brought about by greed. Only the Celestials who have lost their way will turn to the path of darkness. They are the ones who will lead the others into destruction and ruin.
“The Dread will spread like wildfire. Throughout all those the Celestial loves, and to those whom deserve no darkness in their lives. It will take their memories until there is nothing left of the Celestial. The plague will spread throughout the land.
“To end the suffering, a pure soul must plunge a knife into the heart of what remains. The heart of the Celestial who vowed to protect his people with his life, but who betrayed them. Immortality is gifted only to the good and the just.
“The knife will be created by a lost people, forged in the fires of a burning city. And held by…” Amicia choked on the last word but something compelled her to finish reading it aloud. “Held by a loving hand.”
The book slipped from her fingers and hit the ground with a loud crack. The sound might as well been thunder for all it made her flinch. She stepped away from the blue book only to trip on the fabric of her makeshift bed.
Amicia fell onto her bottom hard. The skirts of her beautiful dress pooled around her, suddenly less beautiful and more binding. Her corset dug into her ribs. The boning felt like a cage stealing her breath.
A shuddering sob slipped from her mouth. The floodgates opened, and tears streamed from her eyes. Kill him? She couldn’t. She couldn’t suffer through knowing that she must kill yet another person she loved.
Hands shaking, she pressed them to her mouth and stared at the book. “I love him,” she mumbled through her fingers. “I don’t know why or how, but I love him, and you can’t make me do this. Not to someone else. Not again.”
The pages flipped on their own. She knew the words had been the last page in the book, and yet, there was another. Amicia crawled on hands and knees to see it was an illustration of a knife. A gem encrusted handle, a wicked looking blade, and a shimmering outline that made her eyes sting.
The outline grew brighter and brighter until she had to lift an arm to cover her eyes, else she might go blind. When the light disappeared, she dropped her arm to see the book had closed, and the knife lay atop it.
It was a beautiful blade. Made by the most talented of blacksmiths. She didn’t want to touch it, but again, it felt as though a hand slipped underneath her arm and forced her to reach forward. Forced her to pick up the blade that felt as though it had been made for her hand.
In a way, she supposed it had been.
The handle curved into her palm, and the silver blade winked in the candlelight. Such a deadly weapon shouldn’t look so beautiful.
A hand pounded on the door to the library, then paused, and a quieter knocking followed. “Amicia?” Alexandre called through the door. “You left in a hurry. I wanted to be sure everything was all right.”
She slowly stood. The knife seemed to vibrate in her hand as she approached the door. Almost as though it knew it was close to the one it had to kill. The only one who could stop all the suffering.
“I’m fine,” she called back, but her voice wavered and her throat closed up in fear. “I’m fine, Alexandre.”
“You don’t sound it.”
She didn’t know how to respond to his kindness when she stood with a knife in her hand. “I needed a break, that’s all. The alchemists frighten me.”
The door creaked, not opening but as though he leaned against the solid wood. “They are not comfortable for anyone to be around, but I thought you didn’t have it in you to be afraid. Not anymore.”
“I’m afraid right now.” Not for reasons he might think. The knife sang in her hand, whispering dark thoughts of opening the door and sliding its length between his ribs.
She already knew what it would be like. His slick lifeblood pooling over her fingers, dripping down her hands as he stared at her in shock. Then sadness.
What a fitting end to their story. He had tried to kill her when they first met. Now, she must kill him to end everything.
Amicia ground her teeth against another sob pushing against her lips. He couldn’t hear her crying because then he would push his way through the door and would see everything. He would know everything, and she couldn’t do it, not now.
“You shouldn’t be afraid here. You’ve survived the Dread, turned monsters into allies. How many people can claim such a thing? You went from victim to hero in your own story and convinced a king who wanted only to conquer that there was more to this world than pain and sadness.”
She shakily inhaled. Her breath caught in her throat. When she could muster her words, she buried the emotions deep inside herself and replied, “You give me more credit than I’ve ever asked for, Alexandre.”
“Amicia—” Something scraped the door, a claw perhaps? No, he didn’t have them anymore. Perhaps just a granite-rough palm pressed against it. “Will you let me in?”
She reached out and pressed her own hand against the door. Almost as though she could feel him through its heavy weight, the warmth and solace his touch might give her. “Not tonight, Alexandre. I’m tired.”
“Sleep well, petite souris.”
Amicia waited until she heard his heavy steps down the hall before she dropped the knife. It clattered on the marble floor, but it was still there. She could feel the weight of its responsibility on her shoulders.
She was the woman who had killed her entire kingdom. She had killed her father and now she must kill her only love.
This was bigger than her. There were hundreds of the Dread here who deserved to remember who they were. Who deserved to go back to their home as humans, not as beasts. A tear slid down her cheek again, though she resolved it would be her last.
Tomorrow, she would kill the King.
Tonight, she would mourn his death.
Chapter 33
Ami
cia stayed in the library for longer than she should have. The Dread began to ask questions, knocking on her door and asking to enter. She denied them every time.
Eventually, she knew they would force their way through the doors and drag her back out. Not because they desired to kill her as she had thought for so long, but because they cared about her wellbeing. They wanted her to be happy.
She couldn’t be happy when she knew the answer to saving them, all of them, still lay on the floor where she had dropped it. And she couldn’t pick it up. She couldn’t lift the blade that would end all of this, for if she did, then she lost something so important to her.
All night she had tried to convince herself she didn’t love him, she couldn’t care less if he were dead.
And yet, every time she looked at the blade, she saw something else. The first moment recognition had flickered through his eyes at a memory. The first time he sat across from her in the library and chuckled at a joke. The laughter in his eyes when she didn’t want him to help keep her warm as she memorized the pages of the little blue book that had betrayed her.
Hundreds of memories, both good and bad. Memories that had created her belief in him. Alexandre had proven, though he might have been under the curse of this place, he could change. He could grow into a man who desired to be good and to help those who were under his command.
Surely, that counted for something. Killing him would free her people from this sickness, but there had to be another way. Why did death have to be the only answer?
Over and over, she fought with herself. The incredible pain and misfortune of losing another person who meant the world would ruin her.
Death followed in her footsteps. Every time she thought she was happy, content, it took and took until there was nothing left. Until she was, yet again, alone and lost in the woods, hoping someone would find her. Hoping someone would look upon her with mercy.