Monstrous

by MarcyKate Connolly

  I did everything out of love—misguided as it was—and all I can expect in return is hate. The irony leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

  “Many things,” I say. “I have . . . gifts. They will aid me in getting you out.”

  The girl’s eyes narrow, while the others murmur behind her. “What gifts? Is this a trick?”

  “I will show you, but be warned—it may shock you. Please, try not to scream. I don’t want to alert the guards.”

  The girls take several steps back. The brave one’s eyes don’t leave me for a second. Her hatred burns into my heart like a scalding flame.

  I throw off my cloak.

  My cramped wings spread wide, and my tail peeks around my thigh. Two girls faint. The rest gawk.

  “You!” cries Delia, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You’re the monster who haunts our dreams! You stole us!”

  I swallow my despair. My own sister hates me. “Yes, I did. And I will steal you back if you’ll let me.” I flutter forward, wishing to reassure her. A couple are brave like the dark-haired girl and don’t flinch, but Delia and the rest tremble against the wall with terror.

  “What are you?” cries the girl who challenged me. She positions herself in front of the others. I admire this girl’s willingness to protect them. All I ever wanted to do for these girls was the very same. Perhaps in another life, we’d have been friends.

  “I was made for the purpose of stealing you from Bryre. I’m so sorry. I was deceived. I was told I was saving you. Now that I know it was all backwards, I’m determined to right my wrongs.”

  The girls look skeptical—most of them downright terrified.

  “I am here to help you escape, but I need your assistance. I need to know more about this palace, this room. When Ensel will feed the Sonzeeki again.”

  The brave girl swallows hard, greener than a few moments ago. “If we get caught, Ensel will toss us all off the cliff, whether it’s time or not.” A whisper rolls through the huddled crowd of girls.

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Right. Just like you saved us before.” The brave girl straightens her back. “We don’t need your help. We’ll find our own way.”

  My heart sinks into my tail. “Wait—”

  “Don’t bother,” she says. “I remember you. My brother is alone in Bryre because of what you’ve done. You’re as evil as the wizard.”

  I am too stunned to speak as the dark-haired girl herds the others to the far side of the large room. They refuse to say a word to me for the rest of the night.

  DAY SIXTY-FOUR

  I WAKE GROGGY AND DISORIENTED. I SIT UP, RUBBING MY SORE BACK. I AM alone in my corner of the large room. The other girls remain as far from me as possible.

  I’ve made no progress whatsoever. Every attempt to convince them I’m here to help has been ignored or vehemently brushed aside.

  Frustration has made for a sleepless night. We must work together if we are to escape. My strength, flight, claws, and night vision will leave us stumbling in the dark without their knowledge of the palace and its routines. But I cannot force their trust. I cannot squeeze it out of them like I did information from Darrell.

  No, their trust will have to be earned, but I haven’t the faintest idea how.

  Our time is spent in isolation. A few guards came by to bring us the meager leftovers from Ensel’s banquets. I haven’t eaten much. Despite the hunger that claws at my gut, I have no wish to tussle with the other girls over scraps. They are thinner than they ought to be—some dangerously so—and need all the food they can get.

  This is what I condemned these girls to suffer.

  Not all the girls remember me yet, as the venom wears off more slowly for some, but I remember every one of them. The girl with the straight, dark-brown hair who escaped Barnabas’s tower and caused a ruckus in the yard. The red-haired one from that same night. Delia, with her dainty hands, bright hair, and flushed cheeks, now thin and pale from malnourishment. I wish my heart would leap with recognition at her face, but it doesn’t. But now that I know the truth, I feel fiercely protective of her. Then there’s the small child whose gold curls framing her face are unforgettable, though they are dull and limp now. She’s the first one I took from Bryre. She threw away my roses. She missed her mother.

  I steel myself to try once again to talk to the dark-haired girl. From her conversations with the others, I’ve learned her name is Greta. It suits her; her name sounds as fierce and determined as she is.

  But before I can stand, the door to our prison flies open. A host of guards headed by Albin, the man in the gold-trimmed white tunic, stands in the doorway. The girls recoil.

  The man smiles, but there is no mirth behind it. “Come along, girls. King Ensel has requested our new guest be given the grand tour.”

  All eyes turn to me, and I’m grateful my cloak is around me. I showed these girls my real form, but this man does not know. I pray they don’t give me away.

  The guards tie our wrists together with harsh rope, then lead us out into the hallway. Finally, I will see some of this palace, and can form a real plan even if the girls won’t help me. The guards don’t take us back the way we came through the throne room. Instead we go right down a long hallway. The stone floor beneath my feet is rough, and several stones are loose. Delia walks in front of me and falls victim to the loose flooring. I help her up, but she cringes when my hand touches her elbow. The only thanks I get is a backward, fear-filled glance.

  We’re marched up a narrow stairwell. We pass landing after landing without pause; the climb feels interminable. Greta picks up the small girl with once-gold curls because she is too tired to keep going. I wonder how we’ll get back down.

  Or if we will go back down at all.

  Finally we reach the top. It opens into a large circular room with stone walls and long window slits that open onto the fresh salty air. We shuffle in. From the looks on the girls’ faces, this is not the first time they’ve been up here.

  Several of King Ensel’s men stand around the room, and I’m startled to see the king himself here too. He clearly isn’t accustomed to much exercise, how could he have—

  A hidden passage. There must be hidden passages in Belladoma like there were in Bryre. Hope billows in my chest, but I keep my face placid so it doesn’t show. The passage must not be too strenuous; otherwise King Ensel couldn’t climb it all the way up here.

  The seed of a plan sprouts in my mind.

  Ensel clasps his hands together. “Girls, as you know, we had a visitor yesterday. A boy suffering from the ridiculous notion he could arrange a trade.” At a sign from Ensel, Albin steps forward and grabs ahold of Delia.

  I stifle the scream in my throat. This is my sister. I will save them all, but, most importantly, her.

  Delia doesn’t look up. She keeps her eyes on the floor, her body trembling. She grew up in Bryre’s palace; though she is no stranger to fear, she has never known treatment quite like this.

  “This girl,” Ensel continues, “is apparently special.” Albin yanks Delia’s hair, forcing her to look up. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “What is so special about you, my dear? Is that boy your brother? Your betrothed?” His eyes narrow. “Or is it something else?”

  Horror creeps over me. Ensel can’t discover she’s Bryre’s only living heir. She would be a valuable prize for the man who hates that city. Who knows what he’d do? Ransom her? Kill her outright so Bryre inevitably falls to ruin?

  “I am not special, Your Majesty,” Delia whispers. Terror quivers in her voice. I can smell the fear in this room, rolling off the girls in waves.

  “I do not believe you,” Ensel sneers. This time Albin drags Delia over to one of the long windows. My stomach turns. The man holds her up to the window by her hair and the back of her gown. She screams at first but then goes utterly still. Her head is out the window, with nothing but the sheer drop onto the cliffs and the ocean below.

  “Does this ring any bells for you, girl? An
y idea why you are special now?” Ensel taunts.

  I can stand it no longer. I’ve been working at the knots holding my wrists together since we started up the stairs, and now they’re loose enough to move my hands. I leap forward to wrench Delia away from the white-clad guard. Albin is so stunned by my behavior that I have Delia away from the window and back with the other girls in a matter of seconds.

  He advances toward me, growling and pulling out his sword. If I defend myself, I will have to show my hand, my beastliness, ruining our chance to escape.

  A deep, throaty laugh ricochets off the walls of the high tower room, vaulting my heart into my throat. Albin halts, and looks back at his king.

  “How poetic. That boy condemned you to death to save that little thing, and yet you put your own neck on the line for her?” He laughs again, but stops as suddenly as he started. With a nod to his guards, he says, “Take them back. My Sonzeeki will eat very well on the next full moon.” His eyes meet mine, then travel to Delia. “He will have two meals. Hopefully, he will find them satisfying.”

  I stumble down the narrow stairwell after the other girls, numb from head to tail. I sneak a look back in time to see the king and several guards disappearing into the floor. I was right. There are passages here.

  Now I just have to find them. Before the next full moon.

  We are forced back to our prison chamber and each of us is unceremoniously shoved inside as they cut the ropes around our wrists. The door clicks behind us, and I settle on my cot to think.

  “Thank you,” a soft voice says, startling me. Delia stands about five feet away, hovering like a frightened bird.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, but when I get to my feet she moves back. We’re making progress, but I terrify her still. Part of me longs to tell her I’m her older sister brought back to life, but how could I prove such a thing when my memories of her are so ill formed? I’ve tried so hard to remember, and bits and pieces have surfaced, but not enough to prove it beyond doubt. I would lose any chance of the girls ever trusting me.

  I may not recall what I felt for Delia before as her sister, but I’m growing strangely fond of the girl. She is innocent, and the way she helps look after the younger girls is rather sweet. I understand better why Ren was desperate to see her freed. I must protect her. Even if she hates me.

  Now she casts her eyes at the floor and turns away. I’m close enough to grab her arm, but really, miles stand between us. I have more in common with my dragon brother than I do with my sister.

  Several of the girls come forward, and Greta positions herself in front of Delia with folded arms. “What you did back there, that was . . . good of you.”

  The girl with long black curls interrupts. “Why did you do it? What do you have to gain from helping us?”

  My mouth drops open. “Why?” I echo. I hardly thought about it at the time; I simply acted. “I—I couldn’t let them harm her. I told you, I am here to free you. All I wish to gain is our freedom.”

  Greta eyes me appraisingly, but the black-haired girl next to her looks dubious.

  “Why didn’t you give me away to them? Tell them I am a monster?” I ask.

  “It wasn’t in our best interest,” Greta says, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  A fragile hope springs to life in my heart. “Does this mean you will work with me to escape?”

  She frowns. “It won’t be easy, and if we fail, we’re all dead.”

  “If we do not try, we are all dead anyway,” I say.

  Greta smiles wryly. “We will have to take care not to get caught.”

  I stretch out my hand. “Excellent.”

  She hesitates, then shakes it. “I’m Greta.” She nudges the black-haired girl forward. “This is Bree.”

  The girl frowns, but takes my offered hand. “I can’t say I trust you, but every other attempt we’ve made to leave has failed. I suppose we don’t have much of a choice but to try this, too.”

  A tall girl with pale blue eyes and hair so blond it’s nearly white shakes my hand next. She rolls her eyes as Bree walks away. “I’m Mildred. You can call me Millie. Don’t mind her. She was just as rude in Bryre. Always thought she was above everyone else because her parents have lots of money. But money is worthless when it comes to the wizard, or that beast outside.”

  “That must be a hard truth to swallow,” I say.

  “As hard as a porcupine,” Millie says. “But I’m glad you’re here, and that you’re on our side. The ocean terrifies me, even without the Sonzeeki. I just want to go home.”

  The red-haired girl I stole the night Greta got loose in the yard is called Fay, and she views my hand with wide green eyes.

  “Your claws,” she whispers. “They don’t just pop out, do they? How do they work?”

  I laugh uneasily. “No, they only extend when I need them to. They came from a large cat and were fused into my fingertips. You are in no danger from them, I promise.” I shake her hand extra gently, though she still looks skittish when she walks away.

  Greta continues to introduce the other girls, many of whom still cower. Anna, a girl with brown hair and eyes, refuses to shake my hand or even come near me. Hazel simply waves in my direction. She twists her light-brown hair nervously in her fingers. There are so many it is overwhelming. I may not remember all their names, but that is not important. All that matters is that I bring them home. People in Bryre love them and miss them.

  One of the youngest girls, the one with the gold curls, sneaks up behind Greta, sucking on her thumb. She studies me with wide-eyed curiosity. I smile at her, and to my shock, she smiles back. The only person who has ever smiled at me without my cloak is Barnabas. My heart clenches at the thought of his name. I shouldn’t miss him, but a tiny part of me does. Even though it was all a lie. He loved that I was so easy to use, that is all.

  The little girl steps out from behind Greta, and reaches her free hand toward my wings. “You have pretty feathers.”

  I have always thought the deep ebony color of my wings lovely, but no one, not even Barnabas, has told me they agree. “Thank you,” I say to the girl.

  “May I . . . may I touch one?” She squints up at me, still sucking on her thumb.

  “I suppose so. What is your name?”

  “Emmy,” she murmurs. She gently strokes the bottom of my left wing while Greta looks on with a mix of wariness and amusement.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Greta asks. “You do have a plan?”

  “The start of one, yes, but I need your help.”

  “We’ve learned a few things while we’ve been here that may be useful,” Greta says. “I have been trying to get out of here since the day I arrived. I’ve been marched to the dungeons enough times that I know many of these halls by heart. But we’ll have to hurry—the next full moon is only a few days away.” She takes me by the arm and leads me to the nest of pillows in the corner as several girls join us. My claws nearly slip out, I am so overwhelmed by her sudden acceptance. No one touches me so freely when they know what I am. Even little Emmy had to ask first.

  Yes, I like this Greta very much indeed.

  DAY SEVENTY

  TONIGHT IS THE FULL MOON. IT’S TIME TO PUT OUR PLAN IN MOTION.

  The girls are not perceived as a threat. Only a handful of guards accompany them to the tower room each month. We will rebel against the guards and flee through the escape tunnel I spied Ensel using. It’s risky, but it’s our best chance of success.

  The girls have pooled their knowledge of the castle and I have drawn out a crude map using a piece of curtain and hunk of charcoal from the fireplace. We are located in the main level of the palace, far in the back. The only way in and out of our room is the single heavy door, guarded by two soldiers. Our window overlooks the steep drop into the ocean, the salty scent so constant I hardly notice it anymore. This level also contains the public areas—the throne room, the dining hall, and sitting rooms, while the level above is for the king’s private chambers. If the man ha
d any family they would live there too, but from what we can glean, the second floor is not well inhabited.

  On each side of the castle is a high tower—the one we climbed sits directly over the cliff face, and another on the other side is more inland. That is the entrance to the dungeons, and where most of the guards congregate. Below the tower is a basement level with the kitchen and servants’ quarters. And below that are the dungeons themselves.

  True to her word, Greta has been most helpful in mapping many sections of the castle, especially the dungeons and guardhouse. I’m lucky she was sick when I stole her from the hospital. She would’ve put up a serious fight under any other circumstances.

  Bree and Millie were also quite observant when they were brought to the palace. Darrell took Bree through the servants’ quarters and Millie through the kitchens. There are still some gaps in my map, but I feel confident we’ve pieced together as much as we can. I only hope it is enough.

  The guards talk when they change shifts outside our door, assuming we can’t hear through the thick stone walls. The girls wouldn’t, of course, but my ears have picked up many things—feasts the king has planned, how little of those feasts he shares with his guards, and the irritating fool of a boy in the dungeon who spurns all food spared for him but water and bread.

  Spending this time with the girls I ripped away from their homes has convinced me there is something else I must do besides freeing them.

  I must help Ren escape too.

  If they can forgive me enough to put their lives in my hands, surely I can forgive him for betraying my trust. Did I not betray him first? How could I expect him to act any differently? He has paid the price for his foolishness. I care too much to leave him behind. Rosabel would never leave him to rot in a cell, and neither can I.

  When the sun passes the midpoint of the sky, it’s time for me to rescue Ren. My first duty is to free the girls from the castle, but I need his help. He can reach the town and at least secure a donkey to help the smaller girls move quickly when we reach the forest. The only entrance to the passageways that we’ve identified is in the tower, and it is far too risky to sneak thirty girls that distance. We’re prepared to overwhelm the handful of guards that take us to the tower, and flee from there. Ren must be clear of the castle before we make our escape, but not so far in advance that anyone will suspect our plot.