“Lissa.” Ava clicked her fingers in front of my face.
I blinked, startled for a moment, then looked at her. “Huh?”
“I said, are you cold? You’re shaking.”
“Oh.”
I looked down at myself. She was right.
Prickled skin poked out from all the revealing parts of my dress, and my hands trembled on my lap.
“I’m fine,” I dismissed.
“Maybe you should take a bath. It is chilly in this room.” Her nose crinkled as she roamed her gaze around. “And damp.”
“Later. Jasper said I have another lesson after lunch. I’ll wash when I get back. Who knows, I might need a bath after it—might come back covered in blood.”
“Don’t.” Ava’s grim face turned series. “Don’t talk about it like it’s nothing. No,” she added firmly and held up her hand to stop me from speaking. “Don’t talk about it at all. I’m already tired of all this fear and morbid talk.”
It was a fair request. But I didn’t get the chance to agree.
The door creaked open and, at first, I thought it was the maids, coming to clear the lunch trolley. Then I looked up and saw Jasper’s cool face.
Ava glanced over her shoulder at him. The blush that took her face was fierce.
He leaned against the doorframe, ankles crossed, and let his gaze drift to Ava for only a moment.
I frowned between the pair.
“Hope you ate up.” He was back to pretending Ava didn’t exist, and that she didn’t hide her blush by facing away from him. “We have hours left to go.”
“Great,” I muttered under my breath.
Ava’s warning glare didn’t go unnoticed.
I rolled my eyes in answer. But I made sure to give her shoulder a light squeeze on my way out.
It was as close to a hug as she would willingly get from me. And I’d decided that, maybe she needed it more than I needed not to give it.
The lesson went the same as the first one. Dreadfully.
Though, I did learn that while the book felt like ink and death and secrets and eternities, the necklace felt like nothing. Not a thing. It was the gemstone that echoed through my hand and into my bones with a melancholic song of hollowness.
It was well past midnight when Jasper dismissed the lesson.
He escorted me back to the vilas halls himself.
We were making our way up the last staircase when I plucked up the courage to ask him—
“Why is Ava locked in the room all day?”
Jasper looked at me out the corner of his eye.
Disinterest slicked his answer; “It’s what was ordered.”
“She’s bored.” It was all I had to say back.
When it came to fighting on other people’s behalves, I wavered from an overall lack of experience.
“I do not care.”
“Of course you don’t,” I pressed. “But we’re not locked in a cell or in the dungeons. You were the one who took me out of the brig back on the ship—and you never put Ava in the brig to start with. So why are we locked away now?”
He glanced at me again, a fleeting look fringed by furrowed brows. But I saw that he could be convinced by the way his lips pressed into a thin line.
“It is not my decision,” he said firmly.
Well, that shut that down. The last thing I wanted was for Jasper to run to his master and tell him all about the demands I was making.
Hell. No.
As if I didn’t have enough threats to my life to worry about.
Jasper said not another word the rest of the way to my shared room. Though, when he unlocked the door to let me inside, he lingered seconds too long in the doorway.
Once he realised Ava wasn’t awake, he left without a backwards glance.
My lips pursed. I wasn’t sure I liked that.
Something was definitely budding there, and it felt like another problem.
Of problems and curses I have plenty.
I scrambled into bed, fully-dressed, and willed a deep, dreamless slumber to swallow me up.
I was out in seconds.
7
Waking to the maids scuttling in through the door with trolleys loaded with breakfast and fresh chamber pots wasn’t easy to get used to.
At home, I woke early and only ever had enough time to scoff down some undercooked porridge and guzzle a faintly flavoured tea before I had to tend to my chores.
Here, it was all done for me.
I could get used to being waited on, but that wasn’t the problem. I’d never had anyone rushing into my room—not that I’d ever had a room before now—to change the pot full of my waste (humiliating) and brush me out of bed for my morning wash.
On Zwayk, we didn’t bathe often. Once a week was considered a lot. Mostly, we took dips in the icy cold shore if we were especially smelly before our baths were due.
This morning, the maids took care to make sure I was the first to wash.
Ava sat pouting on her bed as a maid massaged a soapy liquid through my hair. It was sensational. I won’t lie—maybe being the prisoner of a God wasn’t all that terrible. For now, at least.
After I was dried and dressed, Ava took my place in the soapy tub-water. No maid washed her hair. Instead, my personal hair-washer ushered me over to my bed where something was out of place. A stack of boxes, to be exact.
“More dresses?” My pinched face turned to the head maid who stood by the door, overseeing the sweeping about.
Still, she didn’t look at me. She turned her head down and looked at the rough carpet instead.
Wrapped in a soft robe, I dropped to my knees beside the boxes and resisted the urge to tear them open immediately.
There were too many eyes and I didn’t want reports making their way back to Prince Poison about my eagerness to see what gifts he’d sent me this time.
I forced my hand to steady and reached for the envelope tucked between the top crimson ribbon and the smallest box. My name was written on it in beautiful cursive lines and burgundy ink that could have passed for blood. I sniffed the envelope just to be sure.
Ink, definitely.
I tore apart the crimson seal with the Prince’s stamp etched into it. Inside were two letters.
The first was curt:
‘Here, you are expected to wear protection.’
My brows knitted together. I reread it, once, twice, but it didn’t make any more sense to me than the first time.
Then I flicked my gaze up at the small box the envelope had come with.
I flipped the lid off and discoloured rose petals flew up at me. Their hues were off—like bruises, splotched with pinks and reds and midnight blues.
I cringed and spat one out of my mouth.
As I glanced at the box through the petal rainfall, a look of understanding softened my face. It was a pair of bone-white gloves, thin enough to pass for a second skin.
I hummed to myself and discarded the first letter.
Since I already opened one, I figured it made sense to open the rest. While the maids were here, of course. They would see to the gifts being properly packed in the lousy wooden cupboard in the corner and take care of the hundred rose petals littered all around me.
That was what I told myself.
The boxes came heavier this time.
The deeper I dug, the more I found. Dresses, undergarments, stockings, boots. Better yet, there were breeches (black, ashy grey and a pair whiter than seafoam) and blouses and coats (all of those were black and crimson). But the true gifts were in the bulkier box all the way at the bottom of the pile.
Blankets. Feather-filled duvets. Plush pillows to rest my head on at night. Even enough to share with Ava.
I was pleased. For a prisoner, I was faring well in the gift department. Monster wasn’t unhappy either—she was yet to creep up to the forefront and rattle me.
Oddly enough, gifts seemed to appease her.
Still, I wished I hadn’t read the second letter or at least waited
until I’d really enjoyed all of the other boxes before sullying my mood with the Prince’s words.
‘Jasper relayed your request to me.
The door to your temporary residence will remain unlocked. Your friend may wander the vilas halls only. Not a step further.
As this was your request, you will inherit full responsibility of your friend.
Do not force me to regret this favour, Valissa. It would be a grave mistake to make.
P.’
A heavy bolt of lead dropped to my stomach and I looked back at Ava, washing in the tub.
Just like I thought. If she did something stupid, I was the one who would pay for it.
8
Unlocked doors, while great for Ava who’d already left to wander the vilas halls, weren’t so favourable for me.
Guards weren’t waiting for me that morning, ready to take me to the worship room for my training.
Jasper had sent a note;
‘I trust you remember the way.’
At first I’d thought it was sent by the Prince, but the handwriting was all sharp edges and crooked lines. The only other option was that it came from Jasper, who I imagined waited for me with a collection of moody-faced portraits.
It took three wrong turns and backtracks for me to find the main atrium. From there, finding my way was a little harder than I expected.
Somehow, I wound up down a filthy old corridor whose black-painted walls were decorated with cobwebs. Dust-balls hid under what would have once been rich drapes woven from the most shadowy silks ever made.
Abandonment punched the air with a stench of stale fabrics and musty runner rugs. Even though the drapes were parted, sunlight couldn’t pierce the grime on the greyish windows.
I should have turned around and found my way back to the atrium but something in this neglected corridor called to me.
We felt somehow bound. It was in my bones. A sudden, hollow grip that felt both like home and loneliness.
Picking at the wrist of my glove, I wandered farther down the corridor to the black statue looming up ahead in the shadows. Already I was late to my day of training. And yet, I didn’t turn around.
In this corridor, all the fears of death and the very real possibility that I might one day soon be flayed alive seemed to slip away into the shadows licking at my boots.
A wave of freedom crashed over me.
A part of me wanted to hide in this abandoned corridor forever.
I couldn’t quite place what it was that drew me in; the shadows that seemed to lurk all around me, the darkness that ached with a hollow soul, the dusty air—none of it was exactly inviting. Yet, the thought of leaving so soon carved a hole in my chest that could only be filled by these grimy walls.
I stopped at the onyx statue.
Time had decayed an entire half of it, and pieces of black stone were crumbled on the floor all around it.
If I squinted hard enough, I could faintly make out the shadow of what had once been a face. The dark was too thick to see much more than that.
Silent as a snake, someone crept up behind me; I didn’t know anyone was there until a refined, whispery voice slithered out.
“Are you lost, little thief?”
I stiffened.
Every muscle in my body seized up. Even my breath refused to budge from my throat.
Slowly, I forced myself to turn around and face the stranger. And he was a stranger.
Coal-black hair fell over a strikingly handsome face. Piercing blue eyes glittered at me like pools of shattered diamonds.
Caramel came to mind as I studied his olive-tinted skin that looked so smooth that I had to fight the urge to touch his cheek.
I wasn’t sure he would strike me down for it either. A mischievous smile played on his pink lips, but there was no malice behind it.
The stranger leaned against a crumbled pillar and crossed his ankles together.
Dark leather boots pinched the hems of his breeches. Most of his uniform was shielded by a knee-length cloaky coat, darker than his hair, so I couldn’t even guess what his role was here at the palace.
“Better yet,” he drawled, then paused to run his tongue over his pearl-white teeth, “are you deaf?”
“N-no.”
The gloom of the corridor veiled my pink face somewhat, but I couldn’t hide the flustered fear from my voice.
“I’m sorry.” For all I knew, he could be a God or an aniel, and I’d just landed myself in a cauldron of trouble. “I got turned around somewhere, and … I couldn’t find my way back to the atrium.”
He considered me for a long, quiet moment. All I could hear was the sharp whistle of the outside breeze piercing through cracks in the windows.
Not once did the small smile slip away from his lips.
Blue-grey eyes studied me from beneath thick long lases, and I thought of two chasms gathering storm clouds, daring to suck me in. “An awfully dangerous place to let yourself become lost. All kinds of enemies lurk in these shadows.”
I swallowed and took a small step back. “I-uh, I should … really get going.”
I licked my drying lips and made to move around him. His sharp stare followed me.
“I’m late to meet someone,” I added nervously.
The stranger hummed. A single, curt noise that shivered my insides and bit at my nerves. There was so much in that one sound, like he was trying to tell me something.
“Jasper always did hate to be kept waiting,” he said, and his stare drifted down to my hammering heart just above the neckline of my dress. I blushed even harder. “He wasn’t made to be impatient. That’s the trickiness with aniels—they’re not so different from mortals after they are made. Their traits cannot be controlled.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or terrified. He knew Jasper, and he knew him well enough to speak on his traits. Not to mention the slip of his knowledge of aniels.
Whoever he was, he was important enough to know these things.
“Then I definitely shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I said, voice coming out in raspy breaths.
Despite knowing that I should be afraid of this man, fear didn’t hook into me the way it did around the Prince. Maybe it was the corridor that had me foolishly basking in the bitter taste of his presence.
Maybe he was a God, I wondered? One who tricked people into deceitful senses of safety and security, the kind one could only get from a mother’s warm embrace.
His eyebrow cocked as he studied me.
That look rooted me to the spot.
Every bit of my mind shouted for me to run, run as far away from him as I could. Yet my skin prickled with excitement the longer he looked at me and I had the urge to fall into him.
I flinched as he leaned closer and brought his smooth, tanned hand to my face.
Carefully, I watched his hand inch closer.
Only on sea-travellers had I seen such olive-tinted skin before. On my isle, everyone was as pale as an unused paintbrush.
He was beautiful. And definitely deadly.
“What is the name of the Prince’s pet?” His finger grazed over my coat-covered shoulder, brushing a strand of hair out the way.
Though he touched me over my clothes, I felt every bit of my skin jump alive and my breath hitched. “Valissa.”
“Valissa,” he echoed. A fire ignited in my stomach. “A pleasure to meet you.”
His fingertips slid down my prickled arm to my gloved hand. He lifted my hand up between us.
“Damianos,” he introduced himself, then whispered a kiss over my knuckles.
A jolt of power struck through me and I gasped.
The stranger—Damianos—stilled, his smile growing into a grin as his diamond-eyes sparkled secrets at me.
Still rushing through my veins, the sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. That was happening a lot of late, but more so in this corridor than anywhere.
I wore gloves, but with hand tucked in his and his breath brushing over my clothed
knuckles, I sensed something in him.
Were we the same? Or was he just an exceptionally powerful God that I needed to avoid at all costs? Like Lover Lust or Mistress Mad?
“Best run along, Valissa.” His gentle tone did little to soothe the fires raging on inside of me. “Jasper isn’t partial to forgiveness and even less so, excuses.”
Numbly, I nodded and let my hand slip from his grasp.
I moved around him, almost stumbling over my own damn feet like a fool. But, as I turned back to ask the way to the worship room, the shadows had taken him.
Damianos had vanished.
9
Days of tired lessons got us nowhere, so Jasper tried a different approach. The approach wasn’t the problem, though.
My mind was a tangled mess of the Prince and the inky stranger. Neither of them I’d seen in days.
I longed to return to the gloomy corridor, but the fear had bloomed.
I should stay away.
I knew that. Not to mention, I’d tried to find the corridor again. Maybe a few times. Yet it was as though it had never existed to begin with. Vanished, just like him.
Still, I learned something about Damianos since I met him. He wasn’t a God. His face wasn’t on any of the portraits in the worship room, and I’d looked for him often.
“Concentrate.”
Jasper snapped me out of my lost thoughts with his barbed tone.
I swerved my gaze to his molten one, then looked down at our clasped hands. This was his new approach. Touching.
No gloves, no protection—and only one object in my other hand. The necklace. Problem was, my curse wasn’t eager to suck out the power from his hand and rush it into a necklace. It worked better with people.
A petulant look turned my face. “I am concentrating.”
“Poorly.” The warning was in his tone.
I dared not bite back.
Strengthening my grip on Jasper’s hand and the necklace, I drew in a deep breath and shifted my weight from foot to foot.
All I could think about was the Prince and Damianos and the mysterious vanishing corridor.
“Focus!”
Gods and Monsters, Books 1-3: A Dark Gods Bully Romance (Gods and Monsters Box Set) Page 9
