by K. L. Thorne
“I need to think.”
He pulled the door tight shut behind him and stalked out into the dark corridor. He felt raw and exposed in a way he had never known. He was furious and saddened, confused and betrayed.
Why did he care? Haros had been set on escape from the moment he had stepped foot into this castle. He had been putting it off, delaying the inevitable, and to what end? Did he really believe the princess was going to come with him?
Haros gritted his teeth, biting back his frustration. He wanted her to come with him, he realised with a start. The thought of leaving her behind was like a knife in the gut.
He recalled the conversation they’d had, when Sivelle had asked him if he would leave without her. Haros hadn’t realised it at the time, but it had been a lie to say he would. The words had fallen so easily from his lips. Maybe he had actually believed them then?
The demon stormed down the stairs, hesitating a moment before turning away from the kitchen and letting himself into Sivelle’s dance chamber instead. The room was cold and dark. He shut the door behind himself and sat heavily in the chair at the corner of the room that had been positioned there specifically for him.
Haros sat with his head in his palms. He wasn’t used to feeling so conflicted. He prided himself on his decisive, straight-shooting nature but now he was ripped in two. He had never expected that the princess wouldn’t want to follow him.
With a flash of realisation, Haros recalled Sivelle’s tears the night before and how out of place and disconcerting it had been. She had told him she was drunk and emotional, but he felt sick as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Sivelle had been preparing to say goodbye to him even then.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He had unknowingly punched his own ticket home. Haros had lived a vibrant, exciting – albeit dangerous – life. Never had he regretted his choices, even those that hadn’t panned out.
Whilst he was convinced Sivelle hadn’t meant to use him, that was exactly how it felt. She denied it, but he had been an exciting whirlwind of distraction from her mundane little life and now she planned to do as she always did – bow to her father’s bidding and marry some stranger for an easy life.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. Her sisters had escaped and yet she hadn’t followed them, despite evidently loving them more than anything. Had he really been so confident that she would just fall into his arms and allow him to whisk her away?
Haros felt foolish. He scrubbed a hand down his face. He should just let it go, get an escape plan of his own together, cut his losses and get out whilst he still could…
∞∞∞
Haros had sat in the dance hall, cold and alone with his thoughts for hours. When he could bear the torture of his silent frustrations no longer, he had eventually crept back into Sivelle’s bedroom, relieved to see her body curled up and asleep beneath the sheets.
The night had drawn in, bringing with it a thick snow storm. Haros lay awake, back on the settee where he belonged, staring at the ceiling. He wracked his brains, refusing to rest until he had devised an elaborate escape plan.
His thoughts fell to the cellar door they had used to sneak out to the fayre. That would be the first stage of his plan. It seemed like an excellent place to begin and he knew Dorian would be happy to aid in his escape. He could ask the chef to store his belongings there, so he could grab them on his way out. That would definitely raise less suspicion than a demon lugging a bulging satchel through the castle grounds.
After that, he just needed to devise the quickest way past the walls and into the wilderness. The guards at the portcullis weren’t exactly the best and brightest, he was sure he would make it past them with little issue, just as he had twice before. They probably wouldn’t spare much thought for a lone demon.
If Sivelle had been willing to come with him, it would have been entirely different. Though the princess had made it past the guards once before, she was much more distinctive than he was. With the King’s Guard on full patrol, escaping through the city would have been impossible. Just as well she had spurned him, Haros thought to himself bitterly.
Though it sickened him just thinking of never seeing Sivelle again, he was resolute. Haros had never pined over a woman before, he didn’t intend to start now.
There was a loud thud and the balcony doors rattled on their hinges. Haros sat bolt upright.
“What the fuck was that?”
The demon leapt to his feet and stalked closer to the door. A large, dark shape shuffled around outside and Haros held his breath.
It was only when he heard a familiar squawk that he rushed forwards and pulled the doors open. He ignored the blistering cold that barraged him. Nyre crawled in, flapping her wings to shake the snow free.
“Nyre! What are you doing here?!” he gaped, slamming the doors shut and instinctively running his hands over her, searching for injuries. The dragonette cooed happily and nudged him with her nose.
“Haros? What’s going on?” Sivelle mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
“Nyre is back already.”
“What? Is she alright?” The princess threw the sheets from her legs and stumbled from her bed to meet them. Both she and Haros knelt beside the dragonette, though they didn’t look at one another.
Haros continued to smooth his hands over Nyre’s scales. She was so cold to the touch, it made his hands ache. The dragonette was oblivious, just purring happily to be reunited with them.
Sivelle unbuttoned the vest from around Nyre’s chest and fumbled to open the pocket. Haros watched her shaking fingers delve inside. She pulled out a letter, written on non-flowered parchment. A reply.
“You got all the way to Banesteppe, found Lori and made it back here in one day?” Haros gaped at the dragonette. “Just how fast were you flying?”
Nyre tilted her head and chittered happily. Sivelle sat frozen in place as she flipped the letter over, revealing a dark blue wax seal. A familiar crest was imprinted in the wax and Haros carefully slid the parchment from Sivelle’s shaking grip and held it up to the light.
“That’s Lephas’s seal,” he muttered. “Go on, open it.”
Sivelle carefully peeled the letter open, taking care not to snag or rip any of the letter. She unfolded it and Haros saw a familiar sweeping penmanship. It matched Sivelle’s birthday note.
They both sat on the floor with Nyre cooing between them. When Haros hesitantly shuffled closer and leant in, Sivelle held the letter out between them so they could both read it.
Dearest sister,
Firstly, why in Hestaesia would you send a dragon with your letter?! I nearly had a heart attack.
That being said, the creature – Nyre, is it? – made it to me in one piece. She seems agitated and refuses to settle, but I will ensure she at least has some water and a full belly before she undoubtedly returns to you.
I have removed my scarf from her and intend to keep it. I appreciate the sentiment, but please do not send any more of my belongings by dragon courier!
Haros glanced at Nyre, who had curled up to rest her head in his lap. The dragonette’s eyes looked glazed and heavy with exhaustion. The scarf was indeed absent from her neck.
Faye and I are both here in Banesteppe. We have met with King Zelrus and he has allowed us to stay in his compound until he decides what he’s going to do with us. To say he was unimpressed with the arrangement would be an understatement, but he appears to be the honourable sort. I have no concerns over our safety.
Lephas and I are amazed and incredibly relieved to hear Haros is not only alive and well, but your thrall. You must divulge exactly how that came to be. Surely father hasn’t allowed it? Please be cautious – you know how he can be with such things.
I’m going to assume Haros has already filled you in on the events that have led to us siding with the demon king. Our father sent another troop of men after Faye and I just last week. We are fine. The demons saw them off, although Faye did her fair share of the damage. Sh
e’s having lessons with another of the demons, Raxx, and is starting to become quite the force to be reckoned with (but don’t tell her I said that, or she’ll never get her head through the door!)
“I take it this Raxx is a friend of yours?” Sivelle looked up at him.
“Yeah, he’s another of Zelrus’s men.”
Please keep this between you and I, but King Zelrus has been meeting with Uncle Cirro. I haven’t delved too deeply – and Lephas is oddly secretive about it all – but I believe there may be collusion afoot.
“I haven’t seen my uncle for many years. He and my father don’t see eye to eye, so he rarely visits. Occasionally he shows his face at my father’s parties, but that’s about as far as it goes,” Sivelle explained.
“Oh, so your uncle doesn’t live here in Awrelwood?”
“No, Cirro lives in a castle on the far side of Hestaesia with his wife Genevieve and their daughter, my cousin, Briar. Although, last I heard my aunt was very sick…”
“She has passed, unfortunately. Your aunt and uncle did a lot of charity work in Banesteppe. We were saddened to hear the news,” Haros replied quietly.
“I see… My father hasn’t mentioned it, naturally. Cirro would be a good ally for your king, if Lori’s suspicions are true.”
Haros burned with curiosity to know what had happened during the king’s meeting but kept reading.
Lephas has asked me to pass a message to Haros – make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid and focusses on escaping as soon as possible. No distractions. (Sorry, he made me write that…)
“Well, your commander certainly knows you well, doesn’t he?”
“Painfully so, I’m afraid. No distractions… That’s rich Lephas, real rich,” Haros huffed.
“By distractions I guess he means—”
“No fucking about. Literally and figuratively.”
There was another tense silence and the princess turned her attention back to the parchment in her hands.
Do you think there is a chance, even a small one, that you would be able to escape with Haros?
Haros read the sentence and felt his anger from earlier in the day begin to flare once more. He got up and walked away, determined not to start another argument with Sivelle. She had made her feelings more than clear, he didn’t see any reason to keep bringing it up.
The princess and Nyre watched him as he stalked away. He sat on the window seat and stared out at the heavy snow falling outside.
He waited patiently for Sivelle to finish reading her sister’s letter. She eventually folded the parchment back up and returned to her bed. She tucked the letter beneath her pillow and snuggled down beneath the blankets once more. Nyre hopped up to join her, curling into a tight ball at the foot of the bed.
Haros watched her silently across the room. He desperately wanted to join her there, to hold her sleeping frame against his chest, but he would just be making things worse for himself in the long run.
No, this brief love affair was nearly over. He needed to put the princess out of his mind and get back to planning his escape.
Haros got to his feet and lay on the settee once more. He had no blankets, they had long since been removed by Mivian, but he shut his eyes.
It occurred to him, for the first time since he arrived in Awrelwood, he really did feel trapped. It was a cage of his own making and he had no one to blame but himself.
Chapter Eighteen
Sivelle was already awake when Mivian entered her room the next morning. The handmaiden’s face fell as she caught sight of Haros, still asleep on the settee. She silently grabbed Sivelle’s hand and tugged her into the wardrobe, shutting the door behind them.
“What’s happened?” she whispered.
Sivelle shrugged and swallowed the sorrow welled in her throat. “Nothing.”
“Then why is Haros sleeping on the chair again? Did… did things not go well the other night?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Sivelle shook her head and turned her back on Mivian, running her fingers through the hanging garments.
“Then what is going on?”
“Haros knows about my father’s ball this weekend. He wasn’t very happy about it.”
Mivian’s brow creased. “Oh shit… I mean, um, shoot. Was he angry?”
“Yes,” Sivelle replied. The look on his face when she had told him she had no intention to follow him would be forever seared into her memory.
“I suppose it’s understandable. I wouldn’t take too kindly to Dorian telling me he was getting married to some floozy in less than a week.”
“What choice do I have here, Mivian?” Sivelle felt her chest constrict with anger, just as it had done when she had been arguing with Haros.
Why did no one seem to be able to understand how much she wished she didn’t have to go through with her father’s wishes?
“What did Haros have to say?” the handmaiden asked.
“He said he was leaving and he was taking me with him.”
Mivian’s eyes lit up, but swiftly dimmed once more as she caught the disapproving glare Sivelle shot her.
“And you said…?”
“I said no, Mivian. How could I possibly say yes to something so crazy and reckless and—”
“Wonderful?” The girl pursed her lips.
“Oh, don’t you start…” Sivelle sighed.
“Pardon my insubordination Your Highness, but I believe it is wonderful! Haros offered to take you with him? He was really prepared to do that for you?”
“Yes, but I turned him down. It would never work and I’d much rather he got out of here alive, than risking taking me with him and us both ending up dead!”
“I’m guessing he didn’t take that very well?” Mivian asked with a sad smile.
“No. He disappeared somewhere for a few hours and hasn’t spoken to me much since.”
“Oh Sivelle. I was so excited for you. I thought for sure I’d manage to walk in on something really awkward again this morning… I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed not to put my foot in it,” Mivian sighed.
Sivelle didn’t reply, just smoothed her hand down the sleeve of a silky blouse.
“So what’s going to happen now? If you’re not going with Haros, surely he’s going to be making a break for it on his own?”
“We haven’t discussed it.”
Mivian cast her eyes over the spurned lilac birthday dress that was still hanging in the wardrobe.
“Maybe you could wear this to your father’s ball?” she said, clearly keen to change the subject.
“Yes, I figured I would. It’s a nice dress and it took months and months to make. Seems like a waste not to wear it at least once.” Sivelle agreed.
There was a pause whilst both girls assessed the gown.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with him? Haros looks the sort to be able to handle himself. Surely he wouldn’t offer if he thought it was too dangerous?”
“Oh, Mivian!” Sivelle grumbled.
“Sorry, sorry – I just—”
There was a short rap on the door and Sivelle and Mivian froze.
“I’m heading down to the kitchen if you want anything,” Haros said through the door.
“Oh, um, maybe some fruit?” Sivelle shouted back.
“Sure, you got it.”
They remained silent, listening to the demon’s heavy footfalls. Sivelle held her breath until the bedroom door shut with a click. She opened the door to the wardrobe and strode back into the bedroom.
“I hope he didn’t hear too much of that!”
Mivian shrugged. “It wouldn’t be anything he doesn’t already know. You’ve told him you’re not going with him. Have you given much thought to what it will be like here without him? Without me? Once you’re married, I won’t be your handmaiden any more.”
Sivelle’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
“Well, won’t you be moving to live with your new husband? He surely won’t come here to live. Your
father wouldn’t allow it.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” the princess muttered.
“You’ll have waiting staff already employed at your new home. I could try to get a position I suppose, but it’s not likely. Especially if they don’t have any vacancies.”
No Haros… No Mivian… No Lori and Faye. No life. No hope.
Sivelle’s vision wavered behind tears but she turned quickly and pretended to warm herself beside the fire.
Her mind wandered whilst Mivian busied around her room, changing sheets and plumping pillows. She wondered what, or rather who, would await her at her father’s ball.
She recalled how she had felt after Faye had left to follow Lori. She had only been alone a matter of days, but it had felt like years. Every hour had ticked by like an eternity. She couldn’t bring herself to imagine a lifetime of that. Not now, not after everything she had experienced.
As if on cue, Haros reappeared holding an elaborate array of fruit on a platter. He caught her eye, but looked away. Sivelle was relieved to see his face was no longer marred with anger, however the look her cast her was vacant, devoid of the sparkle she had grown so used to.
Her chest ached.
Haros placed the platter on the table beside her and sat heavily on the upholstered chair.
“Where is Nyre?” Sivelle asked, reached forwards to take a handful of berries.
“She was fussing at the door, so I let her out. Seems that flight yesterday has awoken some sort of natural instinct. She wasn’t interested in food, so I’m guessing she’s managing to hunt successfully for herself now.”
Sivelle felt sick, but shovelled some berries into her mouth. Even Nyre was moving on, growing up and leaving her behind. Not that she supposed whoever her new husband would be would tolerate a dragonette in the house anyway. Another of her companions, torn away from her to keep her father happy.
“What’s this Sivelle?” Mivian held up the folded letter from Lori. “I found it beneath your pillow.”
“Oh! I’d totally forgotten…” Sivelle strode forwards to take the letter from the handmaiden’s outstretched hand.