Sophia, Princess Among Beasts

by James Patterson

  We were coming upon the Great Hall. The doors were flung open, and I could hear laughter and strange, discordant music from within. I entered, already breathless, with Seth close at my heels.

  Ares and his knights were drinking mead and watching the musician, a woman with a bird’s beak who played a stringed instrument fashioned from a monstrous skull. When Ares saw me, he grinned in leering welcome. “Ah, you are coming to like us after all! I didn’t invite you to our little party, and yet here you are. Would you like a drink?”

  “I would like you to call off your hound,” I said, gesturing to Seth.

  Ares narrowed his cold eyes at me. “You speak boldly for one so… defenseless,” he replied. “I take it the jackal is not to your liking? Fine. Seth, come join us by the fire. Leave the princess alone for now.” His smile grew threatening. “So who will it be for you, Sophia? To whom will you give your heart?” He glanced at his men, all of whom had turned to stare at me. “Metaphorically, of course,” he added, “though there are some who would enjoy it in a more literal, gustatory sense.”

  Reiper, who had been lurking in the corner once occupied by Zozo, advanced to my side. “We know whom she will choose,” he said, in a voice that sent shivers down my spine.

  I could feel waves of malice radiating from his body, the way heat rippled out from a flame. My hands began to tingle and my heart thrummed with dread. I knew that I should play along, as Raphael had suggested—the plan, as awful as it was, made sense. I opened my mouth. I only had to speak one single syllable: yes.

  Instead the words came out rushed, unbidden. “I would sooner die than marry you.”

  And though I spoke softly, everyone heard.

  Reiper nearly shook with rage. “You will have me,” he said. “Or I will slice you open like a melon. But first,” he added, “I will kill your little human companion. Slowly, while you watch.”

  I said nothing—I didn’t want to provoke him further—but his livid face was horrible to behold.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I know all about the little friendship you have with the peasant boy.” He leaned so close that his lips touched my hair. “Just for the fact that you desire him, his death will be even more painful and terrible than your father’s,” he whispered.

  Though it took all my will, I kept my face expressionless as I turned my back to him. “If you will excuse me,” I said to Ares, “I should not have come to your gathering. I will retire to my chambers.”

  “Perhaps you can return when you have become more agreeable,” Ares said.

  “There is little chance of that,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Or else…” he added. He let the sentence end there.

  The music started up again as I left the room, and Seth did not follow me. Nor did Reiper. But I knew I had stretched everyone’s patience to the breaking point. If Reiper didn’t kill me soon, I felt certain that Ares would.

  CHAPTER 53

  I could sense him as I lay in bed that night: Reiper, in the darkened hallway outside my chambers. Not prowling, not pacing, just… waiting. Was he guarding me from the other knights? Or was he there to prove that he would not be denied—that he had laid claim to me, and so I would be his?

  I couldn’t know his thoughts, but I knew that I wasn’t safe. He had easily breached Bandon’s defenses. If Reiper wanted to come into my bedroom, he would; there was no lock in the world that could stop him.

  I stepped to the door and placed my hand against it. It was icy cold, and the very air in my room felt prickling, charged, the way it did before a thunderstorm. Drawing a knife that Raphael had given me from its sheath, I sank down to the floor and leaned against the stone wall. If Reiper was going to let himself into my room again, he’d be met with a dagger.

  The minutes ticked by, tense and interminable. Outside, a chill wind whistled through the castle’s jagged towers. The fire flickered and dimmed, and mice skittered in the corners of the room. My eyelids grew heavy.

  Hours later, I awoke on the floor, my cheek against the flagstones and every part of me stiff and cold. My first thought was that I could no longer sense Reiper nearby. Tension drained from my shoulders, and I exhaled in relief. I was safe—for now. It was Florence who stood above me, her brow furrowed and her hands on her hips.

  “What, again?” she said. “This is the second time I’ve found you on the ground, and this time it looks as if you slept there on purpose. You came here a princess,” she admonished me. “And what are you now, sleeping in the cinders like a scullery maid? Ares will not approve.”

  Blearily, I stood. My very bones ached. “Then we will be even, since I do not approve of being his so-called guest.”

  Florence reached out and gently touched my cheek. “Poor child,” she said. “You are still under the impression that what you want matters to him.”

  I shook my head. “I know full well that it doesn’t.”

  “Shall I help you dress?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  But unlike in recent days, I took time with my preparations. I bathed in rosemary-scented water and washed and carefully combed my dark hair. From the wardrobe, I chose a velvet gown of midnight blue, its sleeves twined with gold vines. And from a small chest of jewels, I selected a golden necklace with a luminous single pearl that nestled in the hollow of my collarbone.

  I stood before the mirror and gasped at my reflection. Was it possible? I reached out to touch the cold glass as my pulse quickened in excitement and disbelief. The mottled purple of my skin had faded to a lavender shade that was nonetheless closer to my real coloring, and my horns had shrunk to small, shimmering nubs. My old self seemed to flicker there underneath the beastly surface. Was I really becoming human again? I ached to be the girl I once was.

  Florence, who had slipped back into the room, sucked in her breath. “You look beautiful,” she said. “Like a true princess. Are you going to the village today?”

  I shook my head. “I’m going to see Ares.”

  “You have made your choice of husband, then.” She smoothed the coverlet on my bed. “Good girl.” But then she saw my expression, and she came to me and took my hand. “If you don’t decide, he will do it for you, child.” She paused. “Or he’ll do much worse.”

  “Why do you serve him?” I asked her again.

  She looked hard at me, as if weighing whether or not to speak. “Ares saved her,” she finally said.

  “Who?”

  “My only child. My daughter. Balor came for her on her birthday. He wanted her.”

  “To be his bride?” I whispered, horrified.

  She nodded. When she spoke, her voice sounded far away and hollow. “She was only twelve years old. Soriah—a name not so unlike yours. I threw myself at Ares’s feet and begged him to take me instead. I was young then, and I had my charms. I told him that if he let her go, I would serve him until I died.”

  Florence took a deep, shuddering breath. “I lay in the dust a long time. He said nothing. But when I finally looked up at him, he just… nodded. And I knew that she would be spared.” She turned to me, her eyes searching my face. “So I am his, as long as I have breath. And I am not sorry. There was a time when Ares had a human heart, and my daughter is alive because of it. Balor took another wife.”

  “And is his wife content?” I asked. “I have not seen her.”

  Florence seemed to shrink a little. “She died in a fire” was all she said.

  I leaned closer. “Don’t you see that Reiper is coming for me the way Balor came for Soriah?” I couldn’t help prodding. “Except I have no mother to intercede on my behalf.”

  “I am on your side, child,” Florence whispered.

  But how could that be true when she served my jailor?

  “I am going to appeal to Ares myself,” I said.

  Florence wiped her eyes. “I wish you luck, child,” she said. “Though I suspect you will not have it.”

  CHAPTER 54

  I found Ares in
his library. He was reclining on a low tufted bench underneath a huge tapestry, whose faded, ancient wool depicted fierce-faced men battling axe-wielding trolls.

  Though my fate lay in his answer to my request, I couldn’t help marveling at his books—this wasn’t a treasure I’d have expected to find in such a place. I touched a nearby leather spine, and my fingertip came away feathered with dust.

  When he looked up at me, I gave him my most graceful, dignified curtsy.

  Ares’s icy eyes narrowed. “Your politeness is suspicious,” he said. “I doubt Florence has been giving you lessons in queenly comportment. So, tell me why you have come to disturb my solitude.”

  I swallowed and found my voice. “I did not ask to come to your castle. But nevertheless you are my host, and I beg for your protection,” I said.

  “Now what is that supposed to mean?” Ares asked. “I feed you. I clothe you richly. You are already protected.”

  “I ask protection from Reiper. He is a demon and a butcher.”

  “Your most ardent suitor? The best possible match?” Ares returned his gaze to his lap, where his empty hands clenched and unclenched themselves. “How is it that you fail to understand your duty, Sophia?”

  “All night he waits in the hallway outside my room. Have mercy,” I begged. “Send him to haunt some other door.”

  A servant tiptoed in, bringing a tray of fruit and a flagon of wine, which she set down on a little table near Ares. He didn’t seem to notice. Several moments passed in silence, and I allowed myself to hope for a nod, like the one he’d given Florence.

  But when Ares looked up again, his voice was choked with rage. “I showed you mercy when I did not tear you limb from limb the first time you defied me. Or the second, or the third,” he said. “You have no idea how you have tested my patience. Were it not for your beauty—and the novelty of your presence—my hounds would already be fighting over your skull. But beauty grows stale, Princess, and novelty, by its very definition, wears off.”

  I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, and the pain centered me. If Ares wouldn’t protect my life, that was a hard blow. But I had still more at stake. “Then my castle, sir. I ask—”

  “Have I not made myself clear? You have no right to ask me anything!” Ares shouted. “You have taken so long, with your sniffling and whining and running off to the village, that the choice has been made for you—you will marry the very man you’re here to beg against, I’m exceedingly satisfied to tell you. I would sooner put you to the sword myself then deny Reiper his claim to you—or deny my knights their charge against your precious castle.”

  His words hit me like stones, and I nearly fell to my knees as he pointed one pale, hooked finger at me. “You will wed Reiper tomorrow morning and then journey to his keep for the rest of your forgettable life, or you will be executed in the evening.”

  My throat constricted, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Which fate could be worse? As I gasped for air, Ares seemed to enjoy my anguish. He leaned forward and spoke softly, almost confidentially.

  “If you refuse to take Reiper, I’ll let my men choose the method for your execution, as decisions are clearly very difficult for you. Will you be flayed alive, or pierced with red-hot pokers, or gutted and then burned on a pyre? Whatever method they select, you can be sure it will be slow, bloody, and exceedingly cruel.”

  He gestured to a guard, who took me roughly by the arm and began to drag me from the room. I was too stunned and horrified to struggle.

  “I can fill my fountains with wine or blood, girl,” Ares called. “Shall we drink to your marriage or your murder? That is the only choice left to you now. Each, in its own way, is a celebration. Now get away from my sight. I have a battle to prepare for.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Later that evening, Lelia the maid knocked lightly on my door and then, without waiting for permission, stepped into the room. In her arms she held a gown of pale and lustrous gold. Its shimmering, embroidered train was so long that two other attendants followed her, carrying its heavy folds. When they laid the beautiful garment on the bed, it glowed as if embers had been sewn inside it.

  I didn’t have to ask Lelia what it was for, because I knew. It was my wedding dress.

  Pearls shimmered at the neckline, and I ran my fingertip along the seams, stitched in fine silver thread. Lace edged the sleeves, and embroidered roses twined around the waistline. The gown was exquisite, a thing of almost indescribable beauty. But it was also a reminder of Ares’s ultimatum: I was to be wed, or else I was to die.

  Sinking down to the bed, I thought of my mother, who’d married my father when she was only sixteen years old. Had she gone to him willingly? Had she been trained to accept that her sacrifice was the lot that all women had to bear?

  I thought achingly of the rest of my days, unfurling endlessly before me, each of them owed to a man I loathed. If I had hated being captive here, how much worse it would be in Reiper’s castle. There would be no Florence, no Raphael, and I would be forced to sit beside him on his throne of skulls—and lie beside him on his bed—until my poor wretched heart finally stopped beating. How long would it take for death to find me there?

  As I loosed a single pearl from its thread, I thought of the gruesome song I’d first heard amidst the stench and horror of the plague-ridden village.

  Now Death will be her husband,

  No jewels but worms she’ll wear!

  I dropped the little pearl to the floor and it rolled away into the corner.

  “Try it on.”

  The booming voice came from the hall. Peering underneath the door, I saw the massive feet of the eight-foot-tall chambermaid I’d met the night I was brought here. Where was Florence? Why had she sent this monster in her stead?

  “I will not,” I said.

  The door heaved open, striking me in the head. My vision blurred as the huge maid loomed over me, her face dark and gnarled like a tree root. Reaching down, she gripped my neck in one seven-fingered hand and roughly pulled me upright. She held me as I struggled, yanking off my clothes with her other giant hand. “You will,” the maid said.

  At her command, two lizard-women, hissing like adders, brought the golden garment from the bed. My strength was no match for the giant, and soon the bridal gown hung heavy on my shoulders. Its jewel-encrusted bust pressed against my chest like cold, lifeless hands. The arms felt as though they had been sewn from lead. I staggered, and the maid roughly pushed me upright.

  She pinched a fold of silk roses at my waist. “It needs taking in,” she muttered.

  The lizard-women removed the dress’s heavy train, laid it back on the bed, and then skittered into the hall. The giant took my chin in her hand. “Stay where you are. Do not undress. I will return with the tailor.”

  She bolted the door behind her, and I was alone again.

  For a moment I stood paralyzed, my mind a black cloud of despair. Then a log in the fire popped, sending up a shower of sparks, and it startled me back into myself. I had only moments to act.

  I ran to the window and flung open the casement. Clouds amassed on the horizon, illuminated every few moments by flashes of lighting, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Below me was the wall walk, where I’d first seen the Inkanyamba and Impundulu and all their fellow monsters.

  Right now it was deserted, its torches dark. It was a twenty-foot drop to the pathway, and if I broke an ankle, I wouldn’t be able to run. I ducked back into the room and tore the covers from my bed—the beautiful silk coverlets, the soft furs, the bolsters stuffed with goose feathers. Then I threw them all out the window.

  Would it be enough? I wouldn’t know until I’d landed.

  Moments later I was balanced on the outside ledge like some awkward, flightless bird. I was afraid to jump. A mound of blankets—this was my idea? But when I heard a sound in the hall, I closed my eyes and leapt.

  A plummeting, whirling sickness filled my body—this was a terrible mistake! I stifled a scream as I plunged downwa
rd and the ground rushed up to meet me.

  I landed hard on the wall walk. The bedding had cushioned my fall, but the breath was knocked from my lungs. I crouched in the darkness, gasping. My vision spun; the lump on my head from the door flared with pain. Squinting, I stood up, trying to get my bearings to find the best route of escape.

  Before I had taken a single step, a giant shape lurched out from the shadows. Lightning burst all around me, and I saw one huge eye, held tightly shut. I saw fleshy lips part in a contorted leer, a grimace meant to be a smile.

  “Where do you think you’re going, little Princess?” Balor asked.

  CHAPTER 56

  My heart beat so hard and fast it felt like I was being stabbed. The only way to escape was back through the turret, the bottom of which arched over the wall walk like a bridge. So I spun around and ran.

  Balor let out a roar of rage and charged blindly after me. I heard a stutter step and a curse as he stumbled on the hill of bedclothes. Icy rain began to fall as I sprinted down the narrow walkway in my heavy gold wedding gown. Up ahead, the path split, with the left fork leading back into the center of the castle and the right continuing along the perimeter of the cliffs, high above the churning bay.

  I turned left, burst through a door, and then frantically bolted the lock behind me. Now I stood in a long hall, its cold stone walls flickering with rushlights. Already I was disoriented, and panic made everything look unfamiliar.

  Which way was the Great Hall? Which passage led to the servants’ corridors and the secret gate to the cliff?

  The lights guttered as Balor banged on the door. I didn’t know which way to run, but even as I hesitated, I smelled the acrid scent of burning wood. I turned to see flames licking at the door’s base, casting contorted shadows on the wall as Balor burned it to cinders.

  I dashed down a hallway that soon curved inward toward the center of the castle. It grew darker and narrower as I went. I ran until my legs nearly gave out beneath me, and then I stopped to listen. I tried to breathe slowly, calmly, but I inhaled in ragged gasps.