Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  I would never take breathing for granted again. Breathing was glorious. Breathing was life. Air was everything.

  But what the fuck was she?

  Was she, like Oswald thought, a curse from someone who hated me? That could be anyone. Samael, Sourial. The Free Men, if they knew magic. Any of the Fallen. I was not well-loved these days.

  Perhaps she was a punishment of sorts.

  I crawled to the bath and turned off the water. It had overflowed completely, but I’d deal with that later. I didn’t want a bath now. Nor did I want to stand and risk seeing my reflection in anything. Reflections were bad.

  So instead of standing, I crawled, naked, on my hands and knees across the cold bathroom floor.

  This night might be some kind of low point for me. My mind flicked back to Finn and Alice—the reason I was locked up here. Anger simmered, and I thought of what Samael had said about betrayal. Their betrayal had cut me open more deeply than anything.

  Shivering, I crawled into bed and slid under the covers, finding the silk was soft and welcoming against my bare skin. Considering how hard I was still shaking, I wasn't sure I'd be able to sleep tonight.

  I lay in bed for what seemed like ages, staring at the moonlight pouring in through the window.

  I’d been so close to freedom.

  I woke to morning light streaming into the room. I’d been clutching the blankets up to my chin like a child. Warm, buttery sunlight spilled over the stacks of books, the banners on the wall, the mirror. In the light of day, it seemed safe and cheery in here. Already, I could smell the coffee and food in the dumbwaiter.

  I threw off the covers, still naked, and crossed to the bathroom. I snatched my nightgown off the cold floor and pulled it on.

  I shivered. I could still smell the rotten scent of the ghost in here—a dank, musty smell, like rotten marsh water.

  I wanted to prove the ghost had been here, though. Something concrete …

  I crouched down, my gaze homing in on a strand of long brown hair on the stone floor. I picked it up to inspect it. But with a flicker of disappointment, I realized it was my own.

  My stomach rumbled, and I rose to cross back into the bedroom. I slid open the dumbwaiter, delighted to find my breakfast. As soon as I pulled everything off—the silver domed tray, the pot of coffee, the mug—and closed the little wooden door, the dumbwaiter started creaking down again.

  I narrowed my eyes at it. That didn’t normally happen until after I’d eaten and put the dishes back.

  Sighing, I poured myself a cup of steaming black coffee, and set out the tray on the little wooden table by the window. When I pulled off the dome, I found fresh baked bread, melted chocolate, and strawberries. Already, my mouth was watering, and I sat down to start with the bread and chocolate. But as I ate, the dumbwaiter started creaking again. More breakfast?

  With my mouth full, I crossed back to the dumbwaiter and lifted the door. This time, I found a stack of clothes—neatly folded dresses in a few colors—deep green, black, grey. When I pulled them out and unfolded them, I found they were long-sleeved, ankle length, made of thin wool. A stack of neatly folded underwear lay beneath them, and a small wooden box.

  Quickly, I changed into one of the dresses. The soft material slid down my body. It felt warm and expensive, a thin cashmere. And thank God I had fresh undies to slip into, so I wouldn’t have to keep up my miserable scrubbing routine.

  In fresh clothes, I picked up the box and opened it. Inside, I found an acorn that had been fashioned into a simple string necklace.

  I smiled at it. In Albia, acorns were ancient symbols of good luck, meant to ward off evil. A little note lay underneath it, and I unfolded it.

  I bit my lip as I tried to decode the words. After a moment, I understood what it said: To ward away evil, and then underneath that, To help you sleep. The handwriting was elegant, almost feminine in its beauty.

  Who knew? Maybe the acorn would work.

  I tied it around my neck.

  I needed it to work.

  9

  Lila

  Just as I was finishing breakfast, a knock sounded on my door. I pulled it open to find Oswald standing next to a tall, beautiful woman with enormous hazel eyes and rich brown skin. She wore an ankle-length, sky blue dress, and an enormous cream lace collar encircled her neck. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun, showcasing two elegant dangling pearl earrings. Rosy-gold makeup shimmered over her high cheekbones.

  “Hi. I’m Lila.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Lila. I’m Lady Emma Pradham, though there are many here who call me Seneschal.”

  Oswald’s nose crinkled. “No one calls you that.”

  She straightened. “Well, they should. It is my most impressive title.”

  I frowned. “Sorry, what’s a seneschal?”

  “I run this castle,” she said. “The finances, overseeing the servants, and so on.” She narrowed her eyes at my neck. “Beautiful acorn.”

  I shot Oswald a smile. “Thanks. It’s for good luck.”

  She turned into the hallway. “Well, you will certainly need that these days. Evil is everywhere. Come on.” She nodded down the hall. “We’ll show you around.”

  I followed them into the hall, toying with the acorn at my neck. Rays of sunlight slanted through the mullioned, peaked windows. So much nicer here during the day.

  As we strolled from one room to another, I took in the beauty of the ancient castle. It was a much simpler layout than Castle Hades. In fact, it was basically four wings arranged in a square around a central courtyard. From each of the corners, a tower rose high, piercing the sky,

  Oswald and Emma took me past the enormous kitchen, with wide ovens that must have been a thousand years old, and I met the people who’d been putting together my food. Many of the rooms were derelict, the furniture covered in sheets. Cloths covered the paintings. The place had a sense of faded grandeur, its glory lost to time, and a cloud of sadness seemed to pervade the air. We swept through a library—two floors of books, with arched ceilings painted blue and gold.

  Despite the beauty all around me, my mind kept sliding back to everything that had happened last night—the hot encounter with Samael, the painful magic, the spectral attack. For some reason, I desperately wanted Samael to believe me about the ghost, but I understood why he wouldn’t. That stupid lie I’d told in Castle Hades.

  From the upper floors, I looked out through the old windows, warped with age. The thorny, untamed garden spread out over the courtyard, no longer cared for. I wanted to see it alive again. For just the briefest of moments, I thought I saw something shifting in it—the glimmer of green buds sprouting, coming to life before my eyes in the dead of winter.

  “Lila?” asked Emma. “Everything okay?”

  The illusion slipped away again.

  Crikey, I was losing it. For a moment, I wondered if I’d made the buds appear, like I had at Castle Hades with the nightshade. But it was gone now. An illusion.

  I blinked, clearing my head. “We have one more wing, don’t we?”

  Emma’s eyes glinted. “The last one is my favorite.”

  As we walked, I kept glancing out the window, longing to see life out there.

  In the final wing, Emma led us into a ballroom so large it could be a cathedral of gray stone. Diamond-pane windows stretched up twenty feet, letting the amber morning light pour over the floor. Chandeliers dangled from a soaring vaulted ceiling.

  In the empty ballroom, Emma twirled in a circle, and the hem of her dress spun around her. “Someday, when all the fighting is over, we need to hold a ball in here.” She stopped twirling and looked at me, her eyes shining. “You’re one of the lucky ones. I’ve been alone in here far too long.”

  Oswald blew a curl out of his eyes and leaned against a column. “You have me.”

  She smiled at him. “And you’re a lovely colleague, but I want a romance. Like Lila has.”

  My smile must have looked li
ke a grimace. “True love. That’s me.”

  Emma turned toward the window, stroking her lace collar. “When you are lady of this place, we should hold balls again, of course. I hope you can make Samael cheerier. He’s been morose forever, I think. But I don’t think it used to be like this. What do you think it was like in the days when Samael used to live here? I imagine it was much livelier.” Her voice echoed off the high ceilings. “Music, dancing, masked balls. Everything.”

  I stared. When Samael … used to live here? In the Iron Fortress?

  Oswald folded his arms. “He just isn’t the party type, is he? I doubt he was any more fun five hundred years ago.”

  “Hang on,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘when he used to live here?’ He was here five hundred years ago?”

  Emma stopped twirling and frowned at me. “It was built for him, a gift from one of the Albian kings for helping to suppress the northern rebellion. Have you never read a history book?”

  I sighed. “No. I’m only just learning to read.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Fascinating. So you just … have to accept whatever people tell you as fact?”

  “No … everyone has to sift out truth from reality. Books can lie, too,” I pointed out. “And even photographs, as I recently learned.”

  “Oh?” Emma was studying me closely, morning light washing over her. “You know, Samael told us that he would marry you, but he hasn’t said why he locked you in a room by yourself. I know something happened at Hades Castle, but not what.”

  Good. They needed to think Samael and I were in love. “He’s just making sure I’m safe for the wedding. Like you said, evil is all around us. But let’s not dwell on that. When I am countess and overseeing this castle, we should bring the garden alive again. And we’ll throw parties here. We can bring in musicians from the Bibliotek.”

  Her eyes widened again. “Wonderful! It has been infinite tedium in here lately. I think I will enjoy having you here.”

  “And as his future wife,” I said, “I’d like to know as much about my home as I can. Every detail.”

  Oswald’s gaze darted to Emma. “No.”

  Interesting. “No what?” I asked. “What are you saying no to?”

  “There’s a forbidden room.” Emma’s eyes danced with mischief.

  Oswald glowered at her. “Emma loves going in it.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not forbidden to the seneschal. I don’t understand why it’s forbidden at all. It’s a mystery, isn’t it? And I love a mystery. It is the one thing I have to entertain myself here. Except Oswald has no curiosity, dullard that he is. No offense, Oswald.”

  “Offense taken,” he snapped.

  I smiled. “Surely not forbidden to me, as the future Countess of the Iron Fortress.”

  “We’re not going in,” said Oswald. “Not without the count’s permission.”

  Emma grinned. “Follow me.”

  10

  Lila

  We stood outside an ornate set of doors carved with the most fascinating symbols, some of them beautiful and some of them grotesque—gargoyles with their tongues sticking out, monstrous faces.

  My gaze lingered over a carving of a moon wrapped in thorny vines. The vine leaves wrapped around another symbol: a raven wearing a crown.

  The Raven King. I could almost feel his presence here, like in Castle Hades.

  Now, I felt an overwhelming desire to see inside the room, almost like I’d find him in there. The ancient king’s power thrummed through the door, and it was like an invisible cord pulling me in. I had to see what was in this room.

  Emma pulled a set of long skeleton keys from her pocket. “Since you will soon be in control of the castle along with the count, I don’t see why you can’t have a quick peek in the mystery room.”

  “What if he returns early?” said Oswald. “We didn’t get permission.”

  “Shh.” She slid the key into the lock. “Stop worrying. Why would he hide things from his wife?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “He wouldn’t.” Lie.

  When the door swung open, I was staring into an enormous bedroom, nearly the size of a ballroom. It smelled a bit musty in here, and the tapestries on the wall were old and threadbare, but the rest of the room was well-preserved. Windows reached from the floor to the towering ceiling, overlooking the thorny courtyard garden. The wind whistled in through broken windowpanes.

  The room had a bleak atmosphere—all deep gray stone and dark wood furniture. A four-poster bed stood by one of the windows, with the curtains drawn before it. The pale silver bedspread looked worn with age. The room had a distinctly feminine presence: the delicate engravings in the stones depicting vines and flowers, the ornate silver stitching on the bedspread, a mahogany table with finely etched glasses and bottles of wine.

  Not the Raven King, then.

  Disappointing—and confusing.

  I cleared my throat. “And why is this room locked? Who lived here?”

  Oswald shrugged. “He won’t tell us.”

  “And that is why I’m obsessed with this room,” said Emma. “Because why? We don’t get much excitement here, but this is a mystery.”

  “Is it not covered in the history books?” I asked. “There must have been someone living here when Samael was here five hundred years ago.”

  Emma sauntered across the room. “No, we only know the basics. The Iron Fortress was built for Samael as a gift, but there’s no mention of angels at all in the books. It’s always been a fraught topic in our country, one kept secret.”

  I bit my lip. “And who was the Iron Queen?”

  Oswald shrugged. “You know our country is full of legends that aren't true.” He flashed me a charming smile. “Not all of us share your superstitions.”

  I gestured at the room. “And yet here we are, in a locked room in the Iron Fortress that no one can explain, in a castle ruled by an angel.”

  Emma cocked her head. “I haven’t heard this legend. The Iron Queen.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Emma?” I asked.

  “No, but I’m still scared of them.” She plucked a bottle of wine off the table. “Is this a ghost story? I’m going to be needing a drink for this. Does wine go bad after five hundred years?”

  Oswald’s pale cheeks were turning pink. “Is that really a good idea?”

  “It’s a terrible idea,” said Emma, plucking out a corkscrew from a drawer. “My favorite kind of idea. And anyway—the future wife of the count should not be deprived of aged wine. Go on, Lila.” Emma had now wedged the wine bottle between her knees to open it. “Tell me about the Iron Queen.”

  I sat at the old, faded vanity mirror and looked into the murky glass. Above the mirror was the same set of symbols—the moon with leaves stretching out to curl around a crowned raven. Sitting here, I felt a rush of the Raven King’s power.

  I glanced at the mirror again. “She was a mistress or wife of the king who ruled here. Do you suppose that could be Samael?”

  “No,” said Emma, popping the cork. “He’s never loved anyone. Not till you.”

  I bit my lip, surprised at how much I wished that were true.

  “The legend was, the king locked her in one of the rooms. And people said he loved her so much he didn’t want her to ever leave.” I frowned at myself in the mirror. “Which sounds like the worst sort of love. Because she went completely mad in captivity.”

  Emma poured a glass and handed it to me.

  I took it from her and tentatively sipped. Shockingly, it actually did taste good, despite little earthy bits of sediment. It tasted of herbs and currants.

  An uncanny feeling washed over me. You belong here. I felt as if I’d been in this room before, like I knew what I’d see when I opened the drawer—

  A sharp curiosity compelled me to lean down and pull one of the dresser drawers open. And when I did, I found treasures: finely carved mahogany chess pieces, a gilt-frame hand-mirror with murky glass, silk scarves, diamond jewelry, and hair clips.


  I slid one of the hair clips into my curls, tuning out the sound of the two others talking. I straightened my spine, elongating my neck. For a moment, I seemed to have the regal bearing of a queen. A dark smile curled my lips. Beautiful. Maybe I wasn’t meant for the slums.

  I took another sip of the rich wine and reached back into the drawer, plucking out a brooch shaped like a snake. Diamonds and rubies gleamed from its curves. But as I turned it over in my hands, the sharp pin stuck in my finger, drawing a bright red droplet of blood. For a moment, I simply stared at the tiny dome of red on my fingertip.

  Then, I shook my head. What the hell was I doing?

  I’d gotten lost in all this luxury for a moment. My gaze slid to the open drawer of chess pieces and jewels. All this opulence going to waste seemed criminal, now that I thought about it.

  “Lila,” Emma was saying. “You all right?”

  “Yes, of course.” I stuck my finger in my mouth. “Just pricked myself.”

  “I’m not comfortable with the drawers open,” said Oswald, his skin pale.

  I couldn’t stop staring at the shimmering jewels in there. A moment ago, I’d been completely entranced by them. Now, I felt a sort of hollow anger. In Castle Hades, I’d seen all the wealth around me, but people were at least using it. Something about this flagrant waste made my jaw clench.

  “All this has been here for centuries,” I said quietly.

  When I was a kid, I’d get so hungry that I’d fly into rages, and Mum would give me her food to calm me down. I remembered our neighbor, Annie, selling her body for pennies, and while she worked, she’d give her baby over to one of the street-crawlers to look after. And the baby would scream and scream with hunger, so I’d clamp my hands over my ears—

  My hands were shaking now, as I held the brooch.

  This was a sin.

  “This shouldn’t be here.” My voice sounded low and furious.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” said Oswald.

  “Imagine all this wine going to waste,” said Emma, pouring another glass for me. “Why waste it?”