Queen of Monsters and Madness

by Frost Kay

  He tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t pity you. I’m trying to explain something to you, but you’re so focused on your anger that you won’t listen. I’m trying to help you understand that some people are just evil.”

  “First of all, like I already said, that doesn’t justify your people’s rejoicing over that fact! You don’t get it, Zane! What happened today was horrible. It was wrong for so many reasons.”

  “No. It’s you who’s missing the point. You’re skewing the situation.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath, “I don’t understand why you can’t just be reasonable here.”

  “Zane, I am being reasonable. You can’t say that just because I don’t agree with your opinion I’m unreasonable. That’s tyrannical and unfair!”

  He began pacing the room, his hands clenching and unclenching as he gestured wildly to punctuate his sentences. “But your opinion is wrong, so yes! You do have to agree with mine! What is wrong with you right now?!”

  Sage didn’t even know what to say to that. What exactly did he expect her to do? She opened her mouth to say just that when he stopped abruptly, his attention snagged by the neatly packaged crown and dress sitting by the door. Slowly, he strolled to it and bent down, opening the box and pulling out the crown.

  “Why are these by the door?”

  If she could have thrown the gifts in his face, she would have. “I will not accept such generous gifts, my lord,” she bit out, knowing he hated when she used his title. “It’s too much.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I told you to call me Zane, and you can accept them. They were made specially for you.” He pulled the crown from the box and frowned, first at it and then at her.

  She pulled her lips into a tight smile “And as much as I appreciate the thought, I will not accept it. I cannot. It–”

  “It what?!” His hand tightened on the crown. “Isn’t to your liking? After everything, you would scorn my gifts, my generosity?”

  “That’s not what this is about, I–”

  “What then?! You spite me out of anger? Have I not done my best to care for you? To meet all your needs? Why isn’t it enough?”

  He suddenly seemed more agitated than the situation merited and he was starting to make her nervous. “Zane,” she said soothingly, “That’s not what I meant. It is enough. And that’s why I won’t accept these. You’ve taken care of me, protected me, and even given me your room. I can’t possibly take anything more from you.”

  He seemed not to hear her words. “I should’ve known better. None of this was enough. It’s never enough,” he whispered heatedly. He turned to face her, still holding the crown. “Wild one, what game are you playing with me?”

  Something about the query and his posture raised the hair on the back of her neck. A strange glint had entered his eye; whatever was going through his head made her heart pound. He seemed different, dangerous. He cocked his head and, almost offhandedly, remarked, “You obviously have a keen mind, yet you still give in to the weakness of your kind. Why do you refuse logic and why do you refuse me? I admit I find it both infuriating and fascinating.”

  She frowned at him. Now, that just didn’t make sense. Her gaze bobbed to the crown. What was going on? And why did her refusal of the dress and crown upset him so much?

  Sage stepped behind the bedpost and held onto it to keep her hands from shaking. Her movement backward seemed to propel him forward. Step by slow step, he prowled toward her, unnaturally fluid. She’d told him how nervous and unsettled she felt when he did that, so after that first week, she’d rarely seen him move with his Scythian grace. Why was he doing it now? Was it just to unnerve her, because she’d irritated him?

  She looked into his face and her stomach dropped when she met his eyes. They were lit with anger and lust, but it was the lust which scared her the most. He’d never looked at her like that before. A little voice in her head told her to run; she wasn’t sure if it was Tehl or herself, but she felt for a certainty that Zane was very dangerous right then. She’d have to tread carefully.

  “Everything’s okay,” she said in a smooth, calm voice, hoping to soothe whatever was going on with him. “You can put the dress in my wardrobe if that makes you happy. I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  But there was no change in his posture. He still eyed her like a predator. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, and run now. Ever so carefully, she gathered her robe in one hand and moved a step back, then another, and another until she’d moved around the end of the bed’s other post.

  The warlord ran his hand along the opposite bedpost. He studied the wooden frame like it held all the answers in the world and then seemed to speak to it. “Each time I expect you to break, you become stronger. It’s beautiful. I…” he turned to face her, “I actually find myself wondering how far I can bend you.”

  “Excuse me?” His words made her shudder. Something was very wrong here. Even the cadence of his voice had changed, and his speech was almost lilting. It was as though a different person inhabited his body. She placed a hand on Nali in an attempt to steel her nerves. “Are you drunk?” she asked again.

  “No, my dear wild one. I’m in agony.”

  “What do you mean?” Maybe if she kept him speaking, she’d have time to get closer to the door.

  “Because I want—no, need—something I shouldn’t. When I contemplate the idea, it infuriates me, even makes my gut churn.” His eyes narrowed and his lips compressed. “The two of you are far too alike.”

  Her fingers tightened in Nali’s fur, earning her a chuff of indignation, but Sage paid it no mind. She snuck a glance at the door. She knew there was possibility she was blowing the situation out of proportion and overreacting, but her gut told her something wasn’t right. He wasn’t in control of himself. A memory flashed through her mind of Rhys in his berserker rage. It was possible the warlord was almost at his edge. He wasn’t between her and the door yet, though. He was faster than she, so she might only have one chance. She needed to tread with care.

  She took a step toward him and channeled the real concern she felt for her own safety into false concern for him. “What can I do to help? You’ve helped me so much already.” The words she spoke were true. Despite their horrid day, he’d been nothing but attentive and kind up until this point. But if he was going to lose it, she would not be a casualty. It was time to get out until he calmed down or got over whatever seemed to be taking him over.

  “You can do nothing, Sage,” he replied, and then sighed.

  She took another step toward him and almost faltered when she saw his eyes track her progress with hawk-like focus. She steeled herself, though, and moved steadily forward.

  “Nothing?” She was only a few steps from him and about fifteen steps from the door. She could make it, but she needed to surprise him.

  “No. You can’t change your imperfections or your heritage.”

  She stilled. Imperfections? Heritage? The words echoed in her mind, familiar. She’d heard almost those exact words from Rhys when he’d been tormenting her. The memory flashed through her mind: Inferior heritage, disgusting imperfections… The air froze in her lungs as something unsettling occurred to her. Stars above, no… Had Rhys’ insanity been a product of Zane’s influence? Could Zane be the originator of those barbaric ideas? But how could that be true? Truth or not, she had to escape now.

  She lunged for the door, her quivering muscles screaming. Her heart galloped in her chest as she wrenched open the door, but there wasn’t enough room to slip into the hallway before he hooked an arm around her. Sage let loose a scream and caught the calm expression of one guard before Zane pulled her back against him and landed a hand on the door, slamming it closed.

  Then his breath was in her ear. “You can’t run from me. It’s only fair, really, as I haven’t been able to run from your memory for years.”

  Memory? She screamed again and lifted her legs to the door, pushing against it with all her might. Just
as she hoped, it upset their balance enough that they crashed to the floor. Sage pulled herself to her feet and lunged for the door again. Zane stepped in front of her and held his arms out, a smirk on his face.

  She skidded and turned toward the draperies. Maybe she could make it out the window. She zeroed in on a lamp. That would break the glass.

  But she wasn’t fast enough. Again, the warlord’s arms encircled her. “Why are you trying to run, wild one? There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Never.” He punctuated the word with a bite, latching onto the skin between her neck and shoulder.

  She cried out, pain pulsing from the spot he’d bitten. “Please stop, Zane. You’re not yourself.”

  “I am, actually. I finally am.” He tightened his grip on her body and dragged her backward, away from the window.

  Sage jerked her head to the side, her eyes widened in fear. “No! You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He didn’t slow down. She clawed at his arms and fought harder. She had not survived the jungle and Rhys only to be ravished today. She’d die first. “Zane, stop! Just think about this first!”

  “I’m afraid that’s all I’ve been doing. All day, every day. My control can only last so long.”

  She screamed again when he pushed her face down onto the bed. She tried to scramble away, but his hand closed around her ankle and jerked her back. She pulled the dagger he’d given her from its sheath and then gasped as he dropped his weight down onto her, pinning her arms and legs, his hand closing around the dagger.

  “No,” she cried desperately, straining with all her might to hold on to her only weapon.

  He dug his finger into the web of her fingers, and like magic, her hand released the blade without her consent. She twisted her face to the side and arched her neck, so she could breathe and keep herself from suffocating in the pillows. “Please don’t do this. I’m Sage Blackwell, your friend. Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I’m your friend. Work through your berserker rage. This isn’t what you want.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve never seen what I’ve wanted and you still haven’t a clue.” Suddenly, she felt cool metal bite into her neck as he held something to her throat. She jerked, and a sharp edge of metal pierced the fragile skin where her pulse hammered.

  “Hold still or you’ll hurt yourself,” he commanded.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I own it, and I’ll make you queen of it. You’ll suffer as much as I have.”

  As he said these words, she felt him squeeze the metal around her neck until it encircled her like a collar. She wheezed at the pressure, choking on her pain and panic. The warlord yanked her back off the bed as she coughed and tried to catch a breath.

  “Help!” she huffed, but it was barely audible.

  He spun her to face the mirror, one hand banding around her waist and arms, immobilizing her; the other lifted her chin to display what was constricting her breathing. She gasped and tried to look away, but his bruising grip held her still.

  It was the crown. Roses and thorns. Obsidians and rubies. Death and Blood. It wrapped around her neck like a beautifully-crafted animal collar.

  “Lovely,” he purred, watching her reaction in the mirror. “For so long, I’ve wanted my crown on your skin, it’s been unbearable.” One finger slipped from under her chin to caress her lips. “Do you like it?”

  Sage tried to bite his wandering finger. “Don’t touch me!”

  He smiled, looking pleased. “It’s too bad you don’t share my appreciation, Sage.”

  How was she to get away now? Letting her legs buckle beneath her, she dropped her entire body weight. If he had been any other man, it would’ve worked. But she should have known better; he wasn’t just any man. She hung in his grasp while he simply smiled at her like she was an indulgent child.

  “I guess if you insist on misbehaving, you’ll need to be restrained.”

  “No!” She struggled harder. If he tied her, there was no escape. She ignored the thorns biting into her neck as she fought him. She cried out and threw her head back into his face, stomping on his instep. It did nothing. He simply picked her up and carried her to the wall where he yanked down a tapestry. Her horror doubled as she discovered chains behind it, secured to stone. She screamed bloody murder. “Help!”

  In a move both smooth and painful, he secured her hands above her head, then stepped back, rubbing his chin as though admiring his work. Her breath see-sawed in and out of her chest, and her legs quivered with exhaustion. She strained against the manacles, and the familiar feeling send a wildness through her as she flashed back to the dungeon and Rhys.

  “I’m not him,” the warlord said quietly.

  How did he know what she was thinking?

  “You’re everything like him.” How had she been so blind? But why trick her into trusting him? He had her weak and sick when he discovered her in the cell. Or was that a lie, too? Her mind spun, but she couldn’t untangle anything with the panic riding her. “Why?” she shouted.

  The warlord rushed toward her and pushed her into the wall, both of his arms caging her in. “Because you’re too alluring for your own good!” His eyes darted between hers. “I should be disgusted by your imperfections, by your green eyes.” He ran a hand along her exposed collarbone. “By your creamy, scarred skin—but I’m not.”

  Rage flashed across his face; he slammed his hands against the wall, making plaster from the ceiling rain down around them. She cringed back from him. Just how strong was he?

  He stepped back and jerked his shirt into place. “I should just take you and get this over with.”

  Revulsion overwhelmed her, and she pressed herself hard into the wall. “No.”

  “No?” he scoffed and took a step closer. “Nothing but ‘yes’ should come out of your mouth. You’d be lucky if I took you.” His gaze dropped to her body and stayed there. “You’d love it, revel in it.”

  She gagged. “That’s exactly what it would be: taking,” she replied, trying to gain his attention from where it was currently fixated. “I would never consent.”

  “I doubt that,” he whispered. Carefully, he reached out a finger and ran it over her chest.

  She hunched her shoulders forward in an attempt to make her breasts smaller.

  “There’s no need to hide. I’ve seen it all before, Sage. Every inch of your skin has been bared to me.” He moved closer, pressing his body along hers, his lips brushing her temple. “I promise it will be so good, but I’ll wait. It will be all the more sweet when you cave in to me.”

  She panted harder, his excitement making bile flood her mouth. “I’ll make it terrible. That is my promise.”

  He ignored her comment. “And lucky for me, I can introduce to you all the pleasures of intimacy. In this way, you’re different. She was never innocent.”

  She froze. Who was he talking about? Another woman he’d been with? “You will introduce me to nothing.”

  Zane chuckled, his voice rough as his hands roamed down her body and wedged between the wall and her butt. “I can tell when you lie, wild one. Something tells me that the crown prince did not touch your flesh.” His hands traced from the back of her around to the front, and his fingers slipped inside her robe to caress her bare thigh.

  Her breath hitched as he continued his journey upward. She snapped her teeth at the warlord, a smug smile on his lips, his pupils dilated. “Get your hands off me!”

  “I’ve never appreciated our garments, or lack thereof,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, as though enjoying her reaction. “I suspect Aermia is different in this way. You have too much modesty. It’s useless.”

  Her panic increased as his hand inched higher. She bucked against him. “Stop!” When that didn’t work, she used her last resort. She spat into his face.

  The smirk on his face dissolved; he pulled his hand from inside her robe and placed it over the juncture of her thighs.

  “Don’t test me.
”

  Sage’s breathing was shallow. She was very aware that only a flimsy piece of barely-tied linen protected her.

  Zane pressed his forehead to hers and kept eye contact. “I can feel the heat of you,” he growled and then licked his lips.

  “You’re vulgar,” she spat, turning her head to the side.

  “And barbaric. So you’ve told me,” he purred.

  He removed his hand and pressed against her, his hips snug with her, and she shuddered, disgusted. She didn’t know which was worse, his hands or his body.

  He placed a small kiss behind her ear like a lover, not a ravisher. “Sage,” he groaned. “What am I going to do with you? I should have just had you bred, but when I saw you in my throne room covered in dirt, grime, and blood, glaring at me with your emerald gaze, I knew you were special. You were the one.”

  Sage had tuned him out and was staring at the curtains covering the window. Her escape had been so close all along, and yet she had never even dreamed of running. Stupid. Her stupidity never ceased to amaze her.

  “You’re not stupid, Sage. Far from it, actually. I’d never say this to your face, but it’s one of things I like about you,” Tehl whispered.

  Relief filled her at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t alone. Fingers touched her chin gently and forced her gaze back to Zane’s face.

  “You have no more energy to fight him off. The time for fighting is over, love. It’s time to hide, okay? It’s alright to let go. You need not be aware for this. I’ll protect you.”

  The warlord watched her as he pressed his lips to hers. Sage didn’t fight, didn’t respond. He pulled back and cocked his head, frowning. “Kiss me once like you mean it, and I shall leave you unmolested.”

  It took her a moment to process what he was saying. She barely had any energy left. “Forever, or just tonight?”

  “Forever.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You know me, Sage. Have I ever taken anything that wasn’t offered?”

  The question confused her. Had he ever taken anything? No. But he wasn’t in his right mind. Or was he? Was he crazy, or did the berserker rage work differently with him? She mentally slapped herself. Why was she trying to find an excuse for him?