The ones standing by his chair stepped forward.
“Teach our Tuh’ren how to show me proper respect.”
The two men grabbed my shoulders and pressed down hard. I tried to shrug them off, but my knees buckled. The dress and the underskirt weren’t thick enough to cushion my knees when they landed on the wooden floor. Pain shot up my legs. Their hands continued to hold me down until I was on all fours with my face on the same level as the prince’s feet. He moved closer, and for a beat, I was sure he meant to ask me to kiss his shoes.
“Do you know what happens to people who don’t show respect to the crown, Tuh’ren?” Tully asked.
“You flog them until their backs bleed,” I said. “And if that fails, you chop off their wings and hang them by their bridles.”
Tully snapped his fingers, and the guards yanked me to my feet. “You’re going to learn to do as you are told, Tuh’ren, and I’m going to enjoy teaching you. Take her to the dungeons until she learns her place,” he snapped.
“I know my place, Prince Tullius. It’s with Storm in Vaarda, but because of you and your grandfather, he’s no longer there. He’s dead, killed by your people. You should give Captain Ren a medal for making that possible.”
The prince’s face had gone ashen the second I’d said Storm was dead.
“Get the captain back in here,” he barked.
One of the guards left and returned with Captain Ren.
“Is it true?” he asked. “Is Storm dead?”
Captain Ren glanced at me before nodding. “Yes, your highness.”
If I weren’t staring at Tully, I would have missed the flash of rage in his eyes. His reaction didn’t make sense. He should be celebrating his brother’s demise, not getting angry.
“Now about my brother Tommy,” I started.
“Your brother is not here,” Tully snapped. “He is dead, like mine.” Spittle flew from his mouth. “My people were attacked, and he died knowing it was your fault. Just like it’s your fault my brother is dead. Take her to the tower,” he snarled to the guards.
“What happened to the dungeons? I was so looking forward to it,” I shot back.
“And shut her up,” the prince roared.
Two guards led me away. I tried to break free with little success. I glanced back at Tully and found him staring into space. He looked like he’d lost his favorite toy.
My eyes met Captain Ren’s. I wasn’t sure whether it was pity or annoyance on his face. He shook his head as if to say, “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Too late for that now. If they believed Storm was dead and wasn’t coming for me, they’d not be prepared for his arrival or my escape.
“Where is Conyn?” Tully bellowed. “Egon!”
A short man with dark hair and a goatee entered the room. He stole a glance at me before hurrying to the prince’s side. What a weasel.
I ignored the stares as we continued to the far end of the hall, where we reached a rotunda with a set of stairs. The two guards stopped and looked at each other in confusion.
“Did he say which tower?” the first guard asked, a weird expression settling on his face.
“I don’t think so,” the second one said, then grimaced. “I don’t want to go to the south tower.”
“Wimp,” guard one said.
Guard two snorted. “Then you take her.”
“Where I go, you go,” his partner snapped.
“Then let’s take her to the west tower. We can always say we didn’t know which one the prince meant.”
“What’s so terrible about the south tower?” I asked.
“The oracle lives there,” guard two said.
“Don’t tell her anything,” the annoying one snapped. “She is from the pirate islands. Those good-for-nothing, marauding scourges of the seven seas.”
I lost it. “You don’t know anything about the pirate islanders or you would not be talking with your nose in the air.”
The guard smirked. “The captain found their island, didn’t he? And their leader, the rogue prince is dead, isn’t he? The rest will soon follow. That makes them good-for-nothing dead scourges of the seven seas.”
I was tempted to tell him Storm wasn’t dead and wipe the smug look off his face.
“Can I meet this oracle?” I said instead.
“She’s not for the likes of you,” he snarled and yanked on my arm.
He pushed me up the stairs, then practically dragged me along the hallway to the back of the castle. We passed doors until we reached a T in the hallway. The right hallway led to another set of stairs. These weren’t carpeted and looked ancient.
“Where did the mad king go?” I asked as we started up, and shock flashed on the guards’ faces. “Let me guess; he’s not for the likes of me.”
“No one ever calls him that, so you shut your mouth,” Meany snarled.
“Or the oracle will hear you,” the other guard whispered.
“Why do you fear her?”
The mean guard slapped a hand on my mouth so hard my teeth left a dent on my inner cheeks. I bit his palm, forcing him to let me go. He raised a fist, and I braced myself for impact, but his partner caught his arm.
“I don’t think the prince wants to see her hurt,” he warned.
“He said to shut her up, so she better, or I’ll do it for her.”
Charming. I missed the laid-back hospitality of Storm’s people.
They marched me up the clockwise spiraling stairs. I almost lost my footing and had to grip the metal rail. Light from the wide windows lit the way, but as we got closer to the top, the windows became narrower and higher up, until we reached a landing and an arched gridiron gate.
“In you go, Tuh’ren,” the mean guard said after unlocking it. Then he pushed me inside.
The room had arches, narrow windows, and a fireplace. There were several closed doors leading from it. From shuffling sounds behind the door at the farthest end of the room, I wasn’t the only one up here.
The guards led me to the door to our left, unlocked it, and pushed me inside. It was dark, dingy, and cold. The window was way too high and narrow, so barely any light came inside, and the fireplace had no ashes. A narrow bed with a thin blanket and a pillow took up most of the room.
“No toilet? What if I need to use one?” I asked.
“Go on the floor,” the mean one said, and they laughed.
Bastards.
I was still glaring at them when they locked me in. The wooden door had no glass panel to see outside, but I heard the gate squeak as it closed.
Sighing, I kicked off my shoes and checked the beddings. I’d expected them to be dusty, but they weren’t. I tested the bed. Lumpy. The corset dug into my ribs.
I tugged at the lacing on the dress, then on the corset. Breathing easier, I loosened it while keeping an eye on the door in case the two goons returned.
No one did.
I got rid of the corset and pulled the dress back on. Since I couldn’t reach the window, I settled on the bed and watched the light filtering through the narrow window move and then disappear. Daylight was gone, and no one had come to check on me. Surely, the mad king should have known by now that his pompous grandson had me locked in the tower.
My stomach started to grumble, hunger chewing my insides. I thought about my life in Vaarda. The food. The people. The more I did, the hungrier I became.
~*~
I must have dozed off because a rattling sound woke me up, and I sat up. Someone was trying my door. I stared at it with morbid fascination as the handle moved.
“Who is out there?” I called out.
The rattling stopped. Then footsteps moved away. I raced to the door.
“Don’t go. Please.” The footsteps kept going. I banged on the door. “Come back. I need to use the bathroom. Toilet. Wardrobe or a privy,” I corrected.
The footsteps grew faint. That couldn’t be a guard. He would have laughed. It must be another prisoner. Swallowing my frustration, I went back
to the bed.
A few minutes later, the footsteps returned. This time, I wasn’t going to scare the person away. I inched closer.
“Hi, my name is Lexi,” I said. “It’s short for Alexandria. Please, don’t leave again.” The footsteps stopped on the other side of the door. “Who are you?”
The rattling of the door unlocking answered me. The door swung open, and I found myself staring at a woman about my height in a white gown with long V-sleeves. Her black hair didn’t have any grays, and her skin was unlined, so I couldn’t tell her age, but I knew she wasn’t young.
“Come with me,” she whispered and started walking away.
I followed her, glancing at the gate. “Where are we going?”
“Shhh,” she hissed and pressed a finger to her lips. Each step measured as though walking was an effort. She even stopped a few times to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?”
Ignoring me, she went to the farthest end of the room and pushed the door. The room was bigger with a canopied bed, decorative wall hangings, and a carpet on the floor. She had a larger fireplace with ashes and partially burned wood. On a table were two unlit candelabra, a plate of bread, and a pitcher. My mouth watered. She closed the door.
“Have they fed you yet?” she asked softly.
I shook my head, my gaze going to the bread, my stomach growling.
“Eat.” She started to pour some of the drink into a cup, but her hand shook so much she stopped and nudged the pitcher toward me instead. She sat back, watching me. “There’s a washroom in there if you need to relieve yourself.”
Hunger was paramount, so I grabbed a seat and attacked the bread. It was soft and tasty. I washed it down with the drink, which was perfectly sweetened.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Eat before she returns,” she said.
I wasn’t sure who “she” was, but I didn’t argue with her. She studied me the entire time I ate. Now that I wasn’t starving, I noticed a few telltale signs of prolonged illness. She reminded me of Sienna’s mother just before she’d died.
The woman was emaciated, not skinny, her skin thin and sallow, and her eyes sunken. A sheen of sweat coated her skin as though sitting up was too much for her, and her breathing was slow and shallow. When she lifted the edge of her sleeve to her mouth and coughed, I knew it. This woman was dying.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand and pointed at the door at the other end of the room.
“Use the chamber pot,” she said.
“Thanks.” I found a boxed toilet like the one in Vaarda, but instead of the hole that went all the way down, they had a container. I debated with myself, but my bladder won. At least they had pieces of cloth for afterward.
There was a copper bathing tub with a pump and robes on pegs, but no mirror or a changing screen. I had to pump the water hard before some sputtered out. Feeling better, I left the room feeling self-conscious and went to the bedroom to find the woman lying on her bed with her back propped against pillows.
“How long have you been up here?” I asked her.
“Why are you up here in my tower?” she asked, more interested in me than talking about herself.
“I don’t know. I’m from Vaarda. I don’t know if you’ve…” My voice trailed off when she sat up, her eyes bright. “You’ve heard of it.”
“Storm’s island,” she whispered.
“Yes. I am a Tuh’ren.” I shook my head as though to rattle my brain into place and smiled. “I mean, I was a Tuh’ren until Storm found me and took me to his island.”
She leaned closer, hazel eyes burning. “Tell me everything about the island… the people… Storm,” she added in a whisper, tears filling her eyes. “How is he? Is he happy? How are the others? Ryun. Decabel. Oh, poor beautiful Decabel marred for life. Zale. The orphan Atlantian dragon. Uh, what’s his name? Don’t tell me,” she added when I opened my mouth. Her voice shook as she continued. “The brew she feeds me messes with my memories. Leviathan. Yes! That’s his name. He exposed his true nature to help his friends. And the young orphan Kheelan and sweet Nerissa. Are they happy?”
“Very,” I said. “Who are you?”
Just hearing their names made my throat squeeze. At the back of my mind, a warning went off. What if she was the oracle and she wanted information?
“Seriously. Who are you?” I asked again.
Instead of answering, her eyes flew to her door.
“She’s coming. Go back to your room. Now. Go.”
“Who’s coming?”
“No time for questions. If she finds you in here… Just go.”
I hurried out of her room, raced across the common room, and disappeared inside mine. She was slow following me, but she locked the door. Instead of leaving, she stayed outside and mumbled things.
I couldn’t understand her, so I moved closer.
“I was a nobody, just a simple country girl, when he came to my village. Handsome and charming, he fooled everyone. Changed my life. Now, I’m a nobody again.” Her voice rose. “I was a nobody, just a simple country girl, when he came to my village…” She kept repeating the same thing, her voice rising.
“How did you get out of your room, you crazy woman?” a voice asked sharply.
“I was a nobody—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Come along. I brought your elixir. You need to sleep now. Did you eat the food I brought you?”
“I was a nobody…”
“Then he died because of you,” the woman finished for her, but I heard the meanness in her voice. “Try to remember that.”
Shuffles followed and a sharp cry. I had a feeling she’d pushed the woman. I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Could that woman be crazy? How did she know all the islanders? Delia had said people often waited for Storm’s ship and raced to the shores. Maybe the towers and the dungeons were full of those who’d attempted an escape.
I was still pondering the question when my door unlocked and flew open. A woman in a dark green dress and a black cloak entered.
I sat up.
“Why did they bring you up here?” she asked.
I recognized the voice of the woman who’d spoken to the crazy one. Her hood shifted, and I spied pale blond strands.
“They were supposed to bring you to my tower, not hers.”
Uh, the oracle. She didn’t look scary. Cruella De Vil scrawny, yes, but her pale gray eyes and pale blond hair gave her a hauntingly beautiful face. She moved closer and leaned down as she studied me, and I changed my mind.
She gave me nasty vibes.
“I could never see the face of their leader,” she whispered. “Only the black hair, the plum dress, the black horse, and the bag of—”
She stopped, her eyes narrowed. Any second, I expected skinny, gnarly hands with long, sharp talons to whip out and grab my neck. I scooted away from her.
“What are you talking about, lady?”
“What did the crazy one tell you?”
“Nothing. She came to the door and started talking about how she met someone. Who is she?”
The woman straightened. “You should be more concerned with who I am. Come along.” She started for the door.
“No.”
She whipped around. “You dare to refuse me? Do you know who I am?”
“The oracle.”
A smile curled her lips. “That’s right. I’m the oracle, and when I give you an order, you obey.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Prince Tully wants me here, so I can’t go against his wishes. He’s already angry with me. If you want me to leave with you, take it up with him.”
“What Tully wants doesn’t matter. You should be more afraid of going against my wishes, because I’m the reason you are here. The reason you are still alive and not dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have visions, and I helped them find you. Now things wi
ll change.” She cocked her head and frowned. Sounds came from outside. Cursing, she swept out of the room. I followed, wondering what she meant.
No, there was no time to wonder. I had to get the hell out of here before things changed. Luckily, she’d left the door unlocked. I pushed it and peered outside as Prince Tullius reached the gate to the tower. Lord Conyngham followed him.
I pulled the door closed until only a crack was left so I could listen and watch. The oracle met them by the gate.
“What are you doing up here, my prince?” She ignored Lord Conyngham.
“I want to see my mother,” Tully said. “How is she doing?”
I gasped and slapped a hand on my mouth.
His mother? Storm’s mother? Of course, this explained the crazy woman’s reaction when I’d mention Storm. No, I shouldn’t call her crazy. She’d said her thoughts got messed up because of a brew the oracle fed her. And from the looks of things, she was a prisoner in this tower. Did Storm know she was alive?
“Getting worse,” the oracle said. “Your mother had another episode and needed to be calmed down. I hope she feels better once she rests.”
“How long is the queen mother going to rest this time?” Lord Conyngham asked. “After every episode, she sleeps for days. And when she wakes up, she’s never lucid.”
“I’m doing the best I can to make her comfortable, Lord Conyngham. I know you don’t believe I’m the right person to treat her, but—”
“It’s not a question of the right person, Oracle,” Lord Conyngham cut in, his voice hard. “I question the effectiveness of your methods.”
“Enough, Conyn,” Tully said. “You two will never see eye to eye, but I know she’s doing her best. You weren’t around when Mother got worse. She would have burned down the palace or hurt herself. Every time I think she is getting better and hope she recognizes me, she either becomes violent or withdraws and starts talking to herself.”
“I chose to take care of the queen mother when no one else would,” the oracle said. “The servants didn’t want to get close to her. I’d hoped she’d get better, but she hasn’t been herself since that first breakdown.” She sighed. “The illness of the mind is complicated and hard to treat. You’ve seen it among the Tuh’rens.”
Storm Unleashed: Phantom Islanders Part III Page 4
