AshesAndBlood

by Katie Zaber

  His face relaxes, calm and certain, which used to scare the shit out of me as a kid. When his voice became evenly pitched, you knew you were in trouble. Now, it means nothing. He doesn’t scare me. I’m dead inside. I’ve lost everything and continue to lose. There is nothing left.

  “You are the heir to my throne. You are meant to change this world, make it better.”

  “Change this world.” My words drip with sarcasm, and I laugh through my teeth.

  Nope. No way. Not me. I hate responsibility. Another reason I won’t marry and have a family. I can barely take care of myself or want to, let alone keep another human alive. No thank you. He wants me to rule a kingdom. I can’t imagine the work that entails. Without further response, everything he says goes in one ear and out the other as I storm out of the great hall.

  “Mealla, wait. Please listen. You cannot run forever! Stop her!”

  I whip open the large door, startling the guards and my kidnapper. They stare, bewildered.

  I left the throne room without the king’s permission. Beside that is the fact I opened the rather large door all by myself. I’m not even sure how I did that. I give them death stares, not bothering to speak. Confusion sets in. I think they would expect an attack before someone disobeyed the king. Their stares guarantee this has never happened before. They freeze, unsure what to make of the situation.

  I run.

  The castle must be the size of a city stacked on top of itself repeatedly. I dash down an empty corridor and up a flight of stairs. Close behind me are echoes bouncing off the walls yelling “Megan.”

  At least the guards have my name right.

  Identical hallways make escape impossible. I’m lost, and I have no idea where to go. An ingenious architect must have designed this labyrinth. They created a maze to keep intruders or prisoners lost forever. I wish I had a marker to write on the stone, a sign I’ve been down the hallway.

  I turn left and run some more, dashing past a group of women wearing fancy, puffy dresses that make sitting seem impossible. All three are dressed as if ready for a ball, their faces shimmering in the blue light from blush that gives them a gunmetal glow. They step back, aghast. One in a magenta strapless gown touches her hand to forehead before her eyes roll white, fainting.

  I forgot that I have blood on my face.

  I fly up two flights of stairs and slow down, attempting to look inconspicuous, not someone being chased. After a while, I try doors. I hope to find someone eager to escape, who knows a possible way out. I won’t discover a way alone. It’s built like a maze. If I want to escape, I at least need a map.

  The first door is locked, but the second door opens to a small room. It must be a servant’s room. Simple wooden furnishings line it. Whitewashed jade wood colors the furniture a light mint. It gives the room a beachy feel, but without a view. There are no windows. Soft blue light illuminates the room. A lantern is hanging on a single chain, dead center on the ceiling.

  I sink to the floor. There is no exit, nowhere to hide, no spot under the bed to cover myself. The bed sits on the floor. Next to it are a small nightstand and a dresser with two drawers. I should go test other doors or try to find stairs leading down. Surely there is a window low enough for me to jump from and land safely. I have to keep searching.

  After I take in a deep breath, my resolve helps me stand. I will escape this nightmare, one way or another. With my hand on the door handle, I’m about to turn the knob when distant thuds grab my attention. Seconds later, the sound of metal clinking and men running fill the empty hallway. They shout in a foreign language and the only word I can make out is Megan.

  I hold my breath. Please don’t hear me. Please don’t find me.

  They run past.

  They run by without checking the room. Soon they will be opening the doors and tearing apart rooms to find me, the king’s daughter. I sigh. What the hell to do now? Should I explore the castle or stay in here, arm up, and force whoever’s room this is to help me escape? Honestly, my chances are about the same no matter which option I pick.

  The door handle jiggles. Shit, I’m out of time.

  A petite woman carrying a basket of clothes hums a tune. She leaves the door open with me between it and the wall. Peering through the crack, I watch the blonde place a wicker basket on the bed and begin to fold. The melody she hums sounds like a lullaby. I’m shorter than most Fae I’ve seen today, so from behind, I would guess she’s human. A human would want freedom. Really, anyone enslaved would dream of escaping, but would a human trust a Fae or a halfling?

  With my options dwindling, I gently glide the door shut. The woman jumps around when she hears the click. She drops the skirt she was folding as her face pales. She’s young, much younger than I imagined. Big, amethyst eyes plead for me not to hurt her. She stands helpless, so small, fragile, and innocent—for a Fae child.

  “Hi. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I need help. Do you know how to get out?”

  She shakes her head slowly, as if fearful to move at all. “No way out.”

  “What do you mean? There has to be a door somewhere.”

  “No. They slice in and out, or you can jump, if you find a window.” Her purple eyes water, telling me she’s contemplated that choice.

  “What do you mean slice?”

  Her eyes blink back to focus, giving me a puzzled look. “It’s how they travel, slice. Move from one city to another in a blink. I should scream.”

  “No, don’t. Please. We can escape together.”

  “No escape. No window.” She points to the wall opposite me. “Not allowed near them. Not trusted.”

  And I felt bad for myself. This poor girl has been taken away from her family and enslaved. There is no way the king is my dad. He would never enslave someone, especially a child.

  “I’m sorry.” How long has it been since she’s seen the outside world, felt the sun warm her skin? Awakening from my self-pity, I wonder what tragedies she has faced and what she has survived. “What’s your name?”

  “Kilyn,” she says, wiping a tear from her face. “Yours?”

  “Megan. How old are you?”

  Bang. The door thrusts open, smashing into splinters against the wall.

  Kilyn squeals and shrinks into a ball, making herself as small as possible. Perhaps she believes she is invisible, as I wish I were.

  “Don’t move!” a model guard with a golden and jade torc snarls. His yellow eyes trail down each one of us. A creepy, crooked smile spreads across his lips as he tilts his head. “So young and pretty, and in so much trouble.”

  I’m backed into the farthest corner in the tiny room; there’s no escape. He advances on Kilyn. Instinctually, I step in between—she’s a kid. He laughs candidly through his pointy, pearly white teeth. He shoves me backward. I topple over Kilyn, who is trembling in a ball, and land on the bed.

  Kilyn runs and cowers in the corner I had retreated to originally, which only makes him laugh louder.

  “Don’t. I’m warning you. Do you know who I am?”

  “I don’t care who you are. Whore.”

  His demonic yellow eyes look at me as prey. I kneel, scrambling to get off the bed to escape him, but his hand swings at my head too fast, there’s no time to duck. Crack. Pain floods through my jaw. All I feel is pain. The swing spins me around till I land on the bed face down, on my stomach.

  “What are you doing?”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere, quiet, soft-spoken, and monotone. Silver, my kidnapper. Does his voice have a hint of anger? Is he disappointed at his comrade? Could he possibly be my rescuer too? Am I that lucky?

  “I asked—What. Are. You. Doing?”

  Yellow doesn’t respond.

  A pillow rests under my head, supporting my jaw. It’s the only comfort for the searing pain. Besides, it’s collecting my tears like a sponge. I pretend the navy blue pillow absorbs my saltwater and pain, sucking me dry. Leaving me hollow. Empty inside.

  “The king will kill he
r anyway. I might as well fuck her while she’s warm,” Yellow says with a sneer.

  I muffle a laugh into the pillow. I can’t help think of the movie A Christmas Story. The bully had yellow eyes, and if I remember correctly, he had the same wicked laugh. With my eyes closed, I can picture the scene, the freckles on the bully’s face, his head tilted back in laughter and his wicked yellow eyes. It’s such a weird thought while I overhear soldiers discussing raping and killing me.

  “Are you refusing a direct order from the king?”

  “He said bring her to him.”

  “Right. He didn’t say hurt, rape, or torture. Leave.”

  With a huff, Yellow leaves the room unsatisfied.

  “Get up. Move. The both of you.”

  I tuck my hands under my chest, pushing against the bed. I sit on the edge of the bed, teetering. I adjust my blood-soaked scarves and straighten myself out, smoothing the wrinkles in my bloodstained dress. Poor Kilyn is silently sobbing and shaking as she gets to her feet. I glare at Silver.

  His silver eyes shift from Kilyn to me, then narrow till they are tiny slits. “You should have never disobeyed the king. Come. Don’t make that mistake again and keep him waiting.”

  Chapter Eighteen - Megan

  “What happened? Why is your jaw swollen? Who did that?” Father dearest growls. It reverberates throughout the pristine throne room.

  Ten guards, five stationed at each door, including Silver and Yellow, stand watch. The king won’t let me run away again. Kilyn trembles a few feet behind me. Two women and men stand behind the throne, giving an aristocratic presence. They are most likely his counselors. His eyes land on Silver.

  “Who?”

  I spot Yellow. The blood rushes from his face—he knows he fucked up. Silver doesn’t respond, he simply turns his head to the man on his left.

  Yellow won’t acknowledge Silver. His lip quivers, sweat builds up on his brow, making his forehead glisten. The other guards remain unmoved. They stare straight ahead, not bothering to take an interest in what doesn’t involve them.

  “You two.” The king points to the guards next to Yellow. “Remove him from my sight. I will decide his fate later.”

  The two guards left of Yellow grab him by each arm. Yellow begs for forgiveness, but no one hears. My ears are deaf to him. Silver opens the door wide enough for the three to leave, then closes it. With his back to the door, he takes his position again as if nothing transpired.

  “Mainil, send for my doctor.” The plump woman with warm peachy eyes perks up. She nods, making her sandy braids swing. Her plum purple dress sways as she marches to the far door. The king leans in. It’s the closest I’ve been to him. He whispers with a gentler tone, “Did he do anything else?”

  Bright blue eyes scan my body for any hidden damage. Does he genuinely care? Is this a ploy?

  “What did he do to you?” he whispers.

  I motion to Silver and go to talk, but as soon as I move my jaw, it clicks. I try not to scrunch my face in pain. “He stopped anything from happening, but…”

  His eyes burn a brighter shade of blue, almost electrified neon blue. His face grows just as red as his hair. His eyes narrow on Silver. “Have him taken care of,” he says barely above a whisper. Silver returns a sharp nod.

  I won’t ask what fate awaits Yellow. I’m unsure how I feel about someone sentenced to death for his actions against me. It would satisfy me to have him castrated, his jaw broken, and his knees and elbows hammered until they are completely shattered. Deem him useless. Make him vulnerable and defenseless for the rest of his miserable life. But I’m unsure what he would choose if he was given the choice. A life of vulnerability or death.

  “I am sorry. No one will ever lay another hand on you.” He spoke the first part with comfort, the second was a stern death threat to everyone else. “I wish you had let me finish. I understand you are angry with me. I cannot fathom what you have experienced, how horrible your life had become. If I could change the past, I would, but I cannot. I do not want to be your enemy. Mealla, I am your father. I love you.”

  Silence.

  If I were telepathic, I’m sure I’d hear everyone in unison think—Oh fuck, she’s a princess. A quiet whimper comes from Kilyn. If her appearance were any indication of her age, I’d say she’s between ten and twelve. The guard statutes try not to move, but they shuffle their feet ever so slightly. However, they don’t dare make eye contact with the king or me. Silver does his best not to emote, but his eyes can’t mask his utter surprise. The remaining council members grill me with their eyes. They stare at me as if looking at a threat.

  “I cannot atone for everything done, but I promise a better future.”

  “For everyone?” I ask.

  His lips pull back to reveal a sharp smile. “You are just like your mother. Spirited, defiant, a fighter.” Are those tears in his eyes? “I missed you both, very much.”

  “We mourned you.” I can’t say we missed him. We cried, believed him worm food, and resented him. He said he missed us both, but he didn’t mention Chelsea. He spoke of her in private but briefly, not mentioning her name. I’m suspicious. Is it to protect her, or does he not care about her at all? The man is a mystery. “I don’t know how I feel.”

  “Time heals.”

  “People said that at your funeral.”

  The king looks speechless. “I am sure you have questions, as do I. Unfortunately, I have important meetings to attend. However, I would like you to accompany me tonight to a social gathering. A small thing. Word will travel fast within the castle that my daughter, a princess, a direct heir to the throne, has arrived. It is best to introduce you before wrongful rumors spread.”

  “No. I want to go home.”

  “Mealla, you are home.” His head tilts at Kilyn, as if realizing for the first time a kid is present. “What to do with you? How were you involved?”

  “She did nothing. I hid in her room. Don’t you hurt her, she’s a kid!”

  “I would never think to harm her.” His fingers cup his chin and tap. “I know. You will assist my daughter. She will need someone to tend to her needs, keep her company.” He winks at Kilyn and she nods. “Good. She needs the most assistance with clothing. She hates to dress in formal attire. Pick out something proper for her to wear tonight. Make sure she looks appropriate. Mealla, you are gorgeous but a tomboy, and we need your clothing to represent your status. Manadhon.” Silver picks up his head. “You are her personal bodyguard. Mealla,” He places both hands on my upper arms since I won’t move to give him a hug. “I am deeply sorry for everything. We will speak at dinner.”

  He releases my arms and then leads the two men and woman out the far door. I don’t move. I want to cry.

  “This way, Princess Mealla.”

  Funny how fast Silver, my kidnapper, changed his demeanor after discovering my identity.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  He looks puzzled, as if one of the white stones spoke. “Manadhon. My apologies, Princess. No one knew who you were.”

  “Are you apologizing for what that man did?” It gets harder to open my mouth as it swells, my words sounding more and more muffled.

  “No, that’s inexcusable. I can only account for my own actions. I will take you to your room.”

  The two guards return from wherever they took Yellow. They hold open the door for the three of us as Manadhon escorts us down the hall. Kilyn trails behind. She hasn’t spoken a word since the guard attacked me in her room.

  I do my best to remember the route to my room, but there are too many turns and flights of stairs, making it impossible. I count doors, the only sign of where we are, trying to remember how many between each turn or staircase, but I lose track. How does Manadhon know where to go?

  “A warning: He is your father, but he is king. He doesn’t like to be questioned or mocked. If anyone other than you behaved in that manner, he would have killed them on the spot.” Manadhon opens the door to the room I awoke in earlier.<
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  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be back soon.” He closes the door. The hinges slide smooth, not even a squeak. The doorknob turns with a click. We’re locked in.

  “He’ll kill me,” Kilyn wails.

  “What?”

  “Most train a half century before assigned royal handmaiden. I’m new! I’ll make mistakes and the king will kill me!” Errant gold hair sticks to her tears. She curls into a ball, tucking her knees into her chest and shivers.

  Half a century? How old is she? “He won’t kill you, I promise. I’ll protect you. You shouldn’t be here. You should be home with your family.” My jaw clicks again and I see stars. “It’s wrong.”

  “I’m bad blood. I miss my family, but they can’t feed me. It’s a better life here. I eat twice a day. My brothers and sisters, I don’t know if they eat.”

  “What’s bad blood?”

  “Giftless. Nothing to give except labor. Those born with gifts are chosen to live better lives. Too much bad blood in my family. No one born special.”

  “Everyone’s special. How many siblings do you have?”

  Her head cocks sideways. It seems her parents didn’t encourage self-confidence. “I’m one of thirteen. My parents try for a gifted child. Doing their duty to the kingdom, I promise!”

  I don’t know how to reply. If my jaw didn’t throb, it would hang open. How is having a huge family you can’t afford your duty to the kingdom? Does my father pressure citizens to reproduce until they have children with gifts? What happens to the kids like Kilyn, who are told they aren’t special? Are they all slaves? This can’t be the best life Kilyn can hope for because of her social class. What happens to families with gifts? What if only one child has special gifts? What happens to the rest of the family? Does the king kidnap the gifted children too?

  How evil is the king, my so-called father?

  Golden wheat hair shelters her face. She’s so scared, but with a heart of gold. She could have screamed, but she didn’t. She wanted to help me. Now she believes I’m her death sentence. The white around her amethyst eyes has turned red. Steady streams of tears pour down her face as she sobs. She deserves so much better. So does her family and the rest of the kingdom.