Ruined

by Rebecca Grey

  I didn’t need attachments here. I didn’t need to put down any roots or attach myself to any person or people here. Stay guarded. That was the real task. Stay guarded and fake it all.

  Oh, no. This could be about Marcus. About his threat to expose me as a spy. A position I was and was not really in. I didn’t care so much about his politics or the workings of the Obtune Court. I was here to learn the ways of this land as a whole, to learn of these people in this world so I could better survive here as long as I could away from Atarah, my terrible queen.

  Exhaling a long breath, I calmed the rapid beating of my heart before we entered the throne room. Surely the king would be able to hear the nervousness in my vitals, which would condemn me.

  Large bronze doors gave way to polished wood flooring that led to the dais that held the oversized throne. The king happily reclined in the seat with a woman perched on the arm. The queen? Skinny and tall, the woman draped herself like an expensive piece of fabric across his throne to feed him bits of bread, cheese, and fruit.

  It was a weird kind of eerie feeling, looking up at this large man whose stilling must have come in his early thirties. Eerie in the way that Maggie looked just like the man only ten years younger. Would Maggie rule this land just as her father?

  Taking a long sweeping look of the throne room, it was mostly empty except for a few guards posted about the room and Marcus leaning casually beside one in a quieted talk. Marcus seemed amused with himself, much more so than the guard he was talking to who looked pale and worried.

  King Ottack didn’t pay us any mind as we entered the large room. He only stared lovingly at the woman and the food. After a few minutes standing at the foot of the dais the king finally took notice of us. He leaned into the woman and whispered into her ear. She stood. As she turned to leave, he grabbed a handful of her rear giving it a firm squeeze before she giggled and was on her way. Mistress, then. No king would treat his respected queen in such a manner. Not in public.

  With confidence I stood with my hands clasped behind my back, even as Marcus strolled up and took his spot before the last step down from the king’s throne. Ottack smiled brightly as he came down those steps. The same sly smile his daughter had given me moments before.

  “Is this the Milo I’ve heard so many things about? The man who is at the top of his training class?” Ottack opened his arms wide in greeting.

  “Yes, sir,” Marcus piped up. I had half a mind to give him a dark glare but couldn’t bear the thought of the king seeing my anger at the man.

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My body felt too stiff, too alert, during this strange situation. Collin next to me shook slightly, his hands nervous even as he led me here.

  The king stepped heavily as he walked around me, examining my strength, apparent even through the restrictive clothes this realm had given me. He hummed pleasantly as he did.

  “You’ve done a lot of traveling, I hear,” Ottack said, cocking his head at me in interest.

  I nodded, unable to break my silence.

  “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Why don’t we cut right to the chase? I do hate beating around the bush, and this meeting today has really been weighing on my heart.”

  Dreets above. Dreets above. Dreets above. There it was again that feeling that my heart might beat out of my chest. The feeling that my heart might rattle my body so hard that it would cause an earthquake that shattered this entire castle.

  “Marcus, go ahead. Tell the boy the bad news.”

  Marcus tried to look solemn, I really think he did, but I could see it. I could see the hint of the smirk that danced behind his lips and the tell all glimmer in his eyes. This wasn’t bad news for him, not at all. It was all bad for me. He didn’t move from his spot next to the king.

  “I’m sorry, Milo. I couldn’t keep your secret, my secret. My king knows.” He stalled, happily watching to see if I would tick with fear under his words.

  I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

  “He knows you are a spy.”

  The room was quiet. So deadly silent as it waited for my response. Really, I was trying not to scoff at the man. I was no spy. I cared so little for what this realm was up to. Instead of releasing the laugh that wanted to riot inside of me, I blinked.

  The king’s voice boomed, “Marcus, your sword please.”

  Oh no. Oh no, dreets no.

  I took a step backwards, lifting my hands. Collin, still shaking, stopped me quickly. “Sir, I am no spy. I serve your kingdom and yours only.” My attempts to reassure the king were all lies. Well, except for the spy part.

  The quiet ching of the weapon being pulled from Marcus’s belt struck a chord deep in my soul. A deep seed of worry and fear made my heart skip a beat. Perhaps I would have a heart attack before the king drove Marcus’s sword through my torso.

  Ottack grew closer, the sword poised for my throat. Just when I thought he would strike, I squeezed my eyes shut. Pathetic. No self respecting warrior would die without facing his killer as wide eyed and noble as possible. I no longer cared. If I was to die, let me die. At least it would make it that much harder for my queen to get a hold of her token.

  The wind of the sword blew back the hair on my face, however I felt nothing.

  I pictured death as a painful release that led to a long peaceful sleep. Not this, not this absence of pain all together.

  The quiet thud of something hitting the ground brought me back to reality. I cracked open my eyes. I wasn’t dead. I. Wasn’t. Dead.

  My hands rose on their own accord gently touching along my throat to confirm my head was still attached. It was.

  Unlike Marcus’s.

  Marcus’s head rolled at his feet, his eyebrows still lifted in shock and his mouth dropped open. His body crumbled to the ground.

  King Ottack wiped the blood off the blade against Marcus’s limp body. “I can’t have any man in my court keeping secrets from me, like the fact that I have a spy in our midst. I always knew Marcus was a greedy little bastard.” He looked up at me, grinning as if he enjoyed the thrill of ripping someone's life from their body. “Milo, you are lucky my friend, I happen to need a spy.”

  I looked past the king studying the person who gasped quietly behind him. Red stood, food tray in hand for the king. She breathed, closing her gaping mouth without haste, her lips fighting some sort of smile. Ottack gave her a quick glance.

  “Dear, you can leave the food over there.” His voice was smooth and kind, not at all the feared beast that just tormented this room. He turned back to me, his eyes glowing.

  “Actually,” he paused. “Oh, I just love when a plan comes together. Red.” He called after her as she tried to back out of the room. “Red, dear, come here.”

  Red tip toed down the dais to join the king. She pierced me with a wicked stare, no joy, no curiosity, only pure unbridled anger. I wanted to recoil from it.

  “My king, please,” I tried to remind him, “I am not a spy.”

  “Oh, shut it.” Ottack waved in dismissal. “You think I can’t tell a spy when I see one?” He rolled his eyes but didn’t drop the cheerful smile from the thoughts of his plan. “Milo, I’m sending you to spy for me. Now whether you are actually a spy or not, doesn’t matter. I’m making you one now.”

  He wouldn’t let this go, so I asked, “Where?”

  Worry was already pumping through me but this only made it worse. How much could he ruin my own plan to keep myself away from Randsin, from the Heathern Court?

  “Don’t think that if you don’t complete this mission and you make yourself lost to my court that I won’t be able to find you. I find who I want to find.” He dropped the smile, making his cruelty very clear. “You will depart tomorrow morning to the Acture Court. I’m hearing reports that Windre may not be the delightfully evil man we thought him to be. I need to know first hand what he is up to. You will go and take Red.”

  “Who will cook you your meals, my king?” Red said, baffled.

  �
�Milo, go to the Acture Court. Take Red as a nymph that needs broken and report back with your experience. I will send others to you to get your reports.” Ottack shot a dirty look down toward Marcus’s body, the blood pooling into a large puddle. He kicked at his boot before walking past him up to his throne. Large bloody footprints followed him.

  “Sorry, Red. There is no one in my court that can’t be replaced.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Dace

  Going to bed with someone didn’t mean that I’d wake up and no longer be alone. In fact, quite often, even though I was a prince, I’d take someone to bed only to wake with the sun and find the bed suddenly empty. I was the prince who didn’t hold favor with my court. Women typically didn’t want to be caught in the sheets with me.

  Fae respected me. Hell, some of the people even love me for the mere fact that I don’t think the nymph should be enslaved. But no one wanted to get that close to a prince who never held the court’s favor.

  Even as a child I never measured up. I questioned my dreams. I skipped sessions with my tutor in favor of learning the piano from one of the housemaids. I got angry easily and sometimes I broke things. I stole my mother's jewelry to gift to the girls I fancied.

  It was okay. I’d become used to the feeling of reaching out and not finding a warm body at my side. Often when it was Shavarra, as it usually was, she was merely busy attending to her own responsibilities. Tugging the wool blanket up over my bare chest I stared at the wall, knowing somewhere on the other side I had my own tasks to manage.

  Guilt should have motivated me to do better, to get out of this bed and find any odd jobs that needed taken care of at the refuge. The pantry would need to be filled with food again soon. Yet for whatever reason, the guilt of being gone so long only made my thoughts circle back around to my trip. I didn’t regret it. Every second of time I had spent in the Acture Court had been worth it. I didn’t feel guilty I had gone, I felt guilty because there wasn’t anyone to help with the tasks here. There wasn’t anyone else that knew. Except for Torrance.

  Sitting up in bed, I cursed myself for forgetting about that particular pressing issue. With this many secrets, my parents would soon find out, if they didn’t reveal themselves in person, they would discover them in their dreams. A nightmare for me.

  Pulling the blanket off of me, I stood, grabbing my pants from the heap of clothes on the tile. With a growl at my own thoughts I yanked them up, buckling my belt. The knives against my hips patted against my leg.

  With a loud thunk, I plopped back on the bed. Holding my head in my hands. How did it always come to this? How could I fight a real life war when I couldn’t win the war within my head?

  I pulled at my hair, sending the blonde strands up in disarray. Tears stung at my eyes. But every time I closed my eyes, there she was. Ryker. Through the frustrated emotions, a grin still pulled at my lips at the thought of her.

  With a loud bang the door flung open and smacked against the wall. Breathless with rosy cheeks, Shavarra stumbled into the room.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I said, immediately grabbing her elbows to steady her.

  “Your parents are looking for you.”

  I sighed, knowing there would be repercussions to my disappearance. This had happened before. Lectures, strict schedules, and mostly, additional bothersome tasks would be expected of me. Been there done that, nothing to worry about.

  “It’s okay. I will handle it.”

  “No,” she rasped. “You don’t understand, guards are heading here.”

  “Here?” I panted, feeling a spike of fear threaten to paralyze my body.

  Her typical ghostly complexion turned damn near green as she nodded her head briskly. Watching her hands shake as she clasped them together turned my stomach. This would be a death sentence for Shavarra. For a prince it would be a slap on the wrist but Shavarra would lose her life for disobedience to the crown’s orders. And I had done it to her.

  My eyes darted around the room, my body looking for something, anything, to make this stop. No ounce of magic, or wishing, or frantic glances over Shavarra’s few belongings was going to end what was about to happen.

  “Get as many nymphs as you can and help them escape. Take them wherever you can hide them in the meantime. Get as far away as you can. I’ll try and intercept the guards.” I cradled her face in both my hands. “Whatever you do. Don’t get caught.”

  Shavarra darted from the room, her voice already calling out in alarm. “We need to leave now!”

  She called after nymphs who scurried and sprung into action. Mothers reached for children, friends called after friends. Nymphs hurried toward the exit abandoning whatever they were doing and leaving behind the home they had built for nearly five years.

  I pushed past the chaos of them, weaving between them. If I could get to the guards I could stall them long enough they could find somewhere safe to stay. The narrow staircase that brought you into the refuge was like a river of nymphs trying to file out.

  Sunlight blinded me, momentarily, as I pushed myself through the invisible door. Frantic screams met my ears. Nymphs ran every which way to find somewhere safe. An arrow shot by me, the wind of it whistling by my face.

  Women screamed as unforgiving hands shackled them and ripped their children away from them. Bare handed men spared with those who were armored and holding weapons. And nymphs still kept coming out of the refuge.

  “Run, get out of here.” I scooped up a frightened child, her face twisted with a lost sob, and handed her to a woman nearby. “Run.”

  Arrows continued to sprinkle down into our dispensing crowd. Their sharpened points striking nymphs in various body parts. Some were lucky if the arrow found its home in their leg, shoulder, arm, or the meaty side of their stomach. Other’s tumbled into the snow, staining it red, with arrows protruding from their eyes or their hearts.

  If I watched close enough I could see the trajectory of the arrows. A man who dragged a young boy behind him tried to move behind me. The tip of an arrow already flying through the air destined to meet him. My hand reached out, plucking it from the air just before it could hit his chest. He stilled. He didn’t have a thankful expression or the surprise of someone who had been saved. Tears welled in his eyes, his lip quivered, and his body crumbled onto his knees.

  His fingers were still interlaced with the boys. The young nymph’s body laid in the snow, his arm stretched out from the last minute momentum. An arrow stuck from his neck, blood steadily pouring into the ice.

  It was the boy's face that made it so much worse. The look of hope he still held in his eyes as he looked at the other man. The small bit of shock in his uplifted eyebrows. His jaw tilted open in a sad gaping frown.

  My legs felt weak at the realization that everything I had worked for was coming to an end. That the only good thing that I had ever done hadn’t been good enough.

  “Stop!” My voice rang out but was overpowered by the noise of the innocent screaming. I tried again, using a power I didn’t often utilize. A gift I had because it had been passed on to me from my mother. She had the ability to project her voice. It would boom out across crowds so violently you could feel it in your bones. It brought fae to their knees and water to their eyes.

  “Stop now!” My voice welled up inside me and fountained out of my chest. The words rippled through the air in a physical force that could be seen like the outward wave of an ocean. My heels dug into the dirt to hold me in one spot.

  Guards stilled. The nymphs paused. In the time it took to take a breath steady movement began again. Nymphs hurried away. Guards descended upon me.

  “Prince Dace, you have been summoned by Queen Couley, King Henrick, and the court.” A deep voice rumbled. Ukrinsovo walked forward, heavy spell bound chains hung in his hands.

  “I thought I was being summoned, not taken prisoner.” I lifted my chin higher as I talked.

  “You have been charged with treason and will be tried before the court.” Ukrinsovo stepp
ed toward me.

  Oh the dramatics. My mother always had to go to extremes to make sure that I ‘learned my lesson’. She had crossed a line with this one.

  I held out one hand, sharp blades of ice already forming on my fingers and I crouched low. “I wouldn’t take another step if I were you.”

  Ukrinsovo froze, the chain in his hands swaying. Quite a few nymphs were restrained behind him, quite a few more dead before him.

  “I will go willingly, without a fight, if you let them go, and you walk away from this with me.” Once those shackles were on me, my magic would be no good. But I was still the prince and his word to me would be binding.

  Ukrinsovo nodded, slightly. Other shackles clinked quietly as they were unlocked and nymphs set free. Arrows no longer flew. Any screaming had settled to sobbing.

  With an exaggerated sigh I held my hands out. Metal clamped down over my wrists. I had never worn shackles before. Once, I had spent some time in the jail cells where they often kept drunks or petty thieves, but that was a joke at best. The only real time I had ever spent in our dungeons was when me, Torrance, and a couple maidens got drunk and partied down there. Also a joke.

  This felt real. This felt very, very real. My chest was taut with pain as Ukrinsovo guided me forward. My magic that had guarded the refuge flickered away, leaving the once camouflaged doorway open to reveal the stairwell. Immediately, guards lunged forward grabbing the nymphs who had been set free, binding whoever they could get their hands on.

  “You promised.” I bellowed, wishing for the powerful voice I had used once more. But the ancient gift from the long extinct burgundy witches held true and capped my magic within me. It fizzed inside me, creating static in my ears as I pressed to release it without success.

  “Queen’s orders.” His voice was rough enough to shatter the chaos in my mind.

  Stubbornly, I thrashed within the cuffs. I knew it would do me no good. Their iron was forged with old magic that was tied to the creation of the world. Metal bit harder into my skin as I threw myself at the guards that tried to pass. Anything I could do to stop their determined strides.