That is, if I don’t faint or burst into tears.
I understood that Will was planning some type of uprising, maybe to distract Troy while Logan and I escaped through the door. I focused on defensive moves with the sword and without, remembering the few kickboxing lessons that I had after Russia…
… and my lesson with West in the basement of my house.
As the day of the masque approached, Troy was due to return at any time, yet Logan still had not come back. Will found me pacing and knotting my hands in the atrium, and he pointed to the stairs. “Please try to get some rest. You need strength, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
I retreated to my room, laying in the big, empty bed and staring at the canopy. Within an hour, Troy’s voice carried down the hallway outside, and I rose to my feet, throwing the door open.
He reached for me, grinning at my eager welcome. As his mouth covered mine, I tightened my grip on his neck, pinching his skin. Dropping me to the bed, he slid over me.
In broad daylight, the numbers on my arm stood out against my pale skin, and he jerked back, wrenching my arm into his view. “What in the hell is this?”
“I don’t know. I had a dream, and woke up with the numbers.”
“A dream of what?” he demanded, his thumb dragging over the numbers and skidding over the scabbed lacerations between them. “And who in the hell is cutting you?”
I tried to pull my arm away, but he held it fast. “Troy,” I stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what these numbers mean. They aren’t coordinates. An old man in my dream gave them to me, by touching my arm.”
“And the cuts?” he ordered. When I didn’t answer, he reached for the bodice of my gown, tearing it apart. I tried to turn away, but his eyes scanned my bare skin, releasing my arm and tracing multiple, tiny cuts along my hip and side. “Who is touching you?”
“No one!” I screamed, shaking my head. “And you killed Helena, and it wasn’t her fault,” I pushed against his shoulders with all of my strength until he backed away, standing next to the bed. Pulling my torn dress together, I tried to cover myself.
He slipped his hand inside my gown, delicately pressing his fingers against my skin. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. If you are being threatened, you must tell me. I will increase your guard,” he promised, his lips seeking my neck. My eyelids grew heavy, and I curved to the pillow, unable to fight the crying spell rapidly surfacing.
He pulled the duvet over my shoulders, tenderly peeling away the torn gown. “William tells me you’ve barely slept in my absence. I am here now; sleep.” He lay next to me on the blanket, and I cried, losing touch with reality more than once. I felt West’s hands on my face, and Logan’s fingers in mine, but yet every time I opened my eyes, Troy was there, intent on looking through me with his steely gaze.
Wrenching back to the present, I swallowed hard, looking at the woodland items spread out over the table top.
“Are you really putting all those flowers and sticks in my hair?”
She gave me an exasperated look, turning my chin with her fingertips. “Hold still. And no, your hair dresser will do that.”
I clamped her wrist with my fingers, digging my fingernails into her skin cruelly. She nearly dropped the paint brush, shrinking back. “If you want to keep your head, I suggest you treat me with respect,” I hissed, releasing her wrist but holding my glare.
“My queen; I apologize. Yes, of course, your majesty.”
My outburst sent me to my feet, and I glanced in the mirror at the green make-up covering half of my face. “Excuse me,” I swept to the bathroom and slammed the door, turning the lock. Hurrying to the third sink, I knelt before the cabinet, reaching all the way in the back near the piping to retrieve my razor.
After blindly slapping the wood, I peered inside, finding the cabinet completely empty.
The white dressing gown swirled over the marble floor as I stood and turned, charging into the bedroom. Troy waited for me, and I saw that he’d dismissed the artist from the bedroom.
He held the razor in his hand, leaning against the footboard of the ebony bed. “Were you looking for this?”
“Yes,” I responded evenly, holding my arm out. “Please give it to me.”
He pointed at the door with the stainless-steel blade. “Who gave this to you?”
I rolled my shoulders back, lifting my chin. “I took it from Lord Mason’s castle. When we stayed there.”
The recognition flickered in his eyes for a moment. “And you’ve been cutting yourself since then?”
Looking down at the floor, I exhaled slowly, realizing I was holding my breath.
He crossed the room to me, reaching for my hand. I watched him unfurl my fingers, placing the razor in my palm. “Do you imagine that it’s me that you’re cutting?”
“No, Troy. I… don’t know… why I do it. I really don’t.”
He tilted my face to his, and I stared at him, my hands shaking.
After a moment, he released my face and took a step back. “You will not cut yourself. Understood?”
I nodded, my cheeks burning beneath the heat of my mortification.
“Now, tonight, I’ve conceded to all of your requests. No firearms, all costumes, and no children. An extra speaker was added to the five that already surround the dance floor, and the music you’ve chosen is prepared. I expect you to eat the food you’ve ordered; our guests will have their eyes on you, and you must set a good example, being the gracious hostess that they have waited for. Is that understood as well?”
“Yes.”
He wrapped his palms around my upper arms, chafing them lightly. “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
I nodded.
“You will be happy with a child, in time, just be patient,” he added, before turning to the door. Without looking back, his voice lowered. “Would you like me to stay?”
I glanced at the razor in my hand, shaking my head as I tossed it to the table. “No.”
He held the door open for the make-up artist, sending me one more fleeting glance before disappearing into the hallway.
My hair was curled and drawn into pins, woven with golden threads and even more diamonds. In my reflection, my irises exploded with every shade of verdant green against the made-up. The jade, decorated paint covered half of my face. Though I supposed the look that the artist was going for was enchanting forest fairy, I couldn’t help but cringe as no amount of make-up covered the deep circles beneath my lower lids.
Lunch was served to me in my room. As I ate the tiny, cucumber sandwiches and vegetable soup, my stomach slowly began twisting into knots. After finishing the meal, I excused myself, walking regally to the bathroom and closing the door with a soft snap.
Rushing to the toilet, I gagged, and when nothing would come up, I pushed my finger as far down into my throat as I could before the meal finally expelled. After four or five wrenching coughs, I emptied my stomach, unrolling a handful of toilet paper to wipe my lips.
Better.
The costume fit perfectly over my hips and barely-rounded waist, pushing my growing chest into exaggerated cleavage. In just the brown pants and corset, I could move effortlessly. I squatted a few times before trying a high-kick at the wall. The gown coat, the essence of the costume, was attached with a simple belt, and I quickly learned to remove the clasp with one hand. Tall, brown leather boots with diamond-studded buckles swallowed the tight pant legs and nearly reached my knees.
Troy met me at the door, linking his arm through mine to escort me to the hall. He wore an outfit with colors similar to mine, but his formal coat reached only his thighs. His mask must have been attached with double-sided tape; I saw no band around the back of his head, and the orange and gold lion disguise covered only his eyes. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear.
I swept my eyes over the crowd, searching for Logan. He promised he’d come back, I comforted myself, clinging closer to Troy as masses of guests flooded into the
great hall. Soldiers were permitted to carry swords or knives, and those who were off duty brought guests in elegant, colorful gowns. “I’m the only one in face paint?” I asked, scanning the many women holding Venetian masks.
“You chose paint, so the other women may not. They are showing respect to you.”
The music was giving me a headache already. I touched Troy’s arm lightly as he led me to the throne. “Would you ask someone to bring me aspirin?”
He leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Of course. Sit for a while,” he suggested, turning to one of his guards.
I scanned the great hall, taking in the flashing, colorful lights and clever decorations. The walls and ceiling were transformed into a forest burrow, and on the floor fairies, flowers, trees, and small animals moved to music that I didn’t recognize. So much for music from my world.
“Shall we just consider this your prom?” Will’s voice sounded from beside me, and I lifted my chin, hoping that I didn’t look as overwhelmed as I felt.
“I wouldn’t have gone to prom anyway,” I chided, searching the floor. “Is Logan back?”
“He’s back safely.” Relief coursed through me as he nodded at my costume. “You look strikingly… naughty, your majesty.”
“Oh good. That’s the look I was going for,” I answered wryly, my fingers clinging to the throne. “Why does the music have to be so loud?” My eyes darted nervously around the room at our conversation. The throbbing in my temple intensified.
“I need to hear a certain song… a cue, if you will, from deep within the castle,” Will answered quickly. “You will be safe. Just follow my lead.”
“Okay,” I answered, confused, turning to stare at the floor. Without lifting my face, I sighed tiredly. “Thank you, Will… you’ve given me… hope. Thank you.”
He gazed down at me, squeezing my hand. “You are exceptional, your majesty.”
A maid brought me water and two pills, and I quickly downed them. Troy returned to the throne next to me, taking my hand in his. “You will dance with my soldiers. Win them over,” he added, turning to meet my appalled gape.
“No! They hate me,” I shook my head, and he tightened his grip on my wrist.
“You will dance with my soldiers,” he repeated, through clenched teeth.
I covered my stomach, looking down. “Yes, my lord.”
Dinner was served, and I forced as much down as I could. The open bar was a liberty that Troy rarely offered, and it was clear that many of his soldiers were given the evening to spend as they chose. Voices grew louder with every mug of beer or shot of alcohol, and I became increasingly aware of the growing inebriation of the crowd.
As a classical piece of music began, a soldier bowed before us, his ridiculous deer antlers positioned near his forehead. “May I dance with the queen?”
Troy nodded. I stood on shaking feet, allowing him to lead me to the floor. The music ground at my ears; the extra speaker drowned out every thought. Colorful lights in green, red, blue, and yellow swirled in the darkness, confusing my senses.
“What is your name?” I shouted to the man towering over me, holding me in a proper line and swaying to the music.
“I am Gregory. And you,” he lowered his mouth so that I could hear him better, “have the pleasure of my company.”
Narrowing my eyes, I looked up at him, confused. “What are you talking about?” My body had become so adapted to unwanted touching that only then did I register his fingers slipping over my lower back, under the corset of my costume. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed, backing away in revulsion.
“Now, now,” he smirked, reaching for me again. I turned toward Troy, watching him drag a maid to his lap, whispering something in her ear that made her break into laughter. His hand slid into the bodice of her gown.
The moment the soldier’s hand touched my bare neck, I dug my boot into his foot before sending the heel of my hand into his chin. His head snapped backwards, and two guards were at my side before Gregory could fire his drunken, heated eyes at mine.
He looked back and forth between the hooded guards once before retreating from the dance floor. I ran to Troy, gesturing to the floor. “Did you see that? He tried to put his hands on me!”
Troy reached for my arm, jerking me down to sit at the throne next to him. His words fired in an even, staccato growl. “None of your shit tonight. These are my men. They have been given my permission to better… acquaint themselves with you.”
I stared at him, my chest rising and falling with mounting hatred. Realization of his intentions boiled my blood. He will turn me into a whore to his soldiers before he kills me. I wrenched my wrist out of his grasp, asking for an escort to the restroom.
Once inside the stall, I stared down at the toilet, trying to use my mind to gag by thinking of the vile, disgusting touch of the guard. Finally, I shoved two fingers behind my tongue until the food that was served at dinner no longer sat heavily in my belly.
At the sink, I unpackaged and chewed on two complimentary mints, staring at my reflection. I realized that my thoughts were suddenly becoming disjointed. I would begin a logical thought, but halfway through, I would begin another rather than finishing the first. Time was skipping again; I couldn’t remember walking into the restroom or walking from the stall to the sink.
I’m going crazy.
The music in the hall started once more, and I met the two hooded soldiers who waited for me outside the restroom door. Their mesh masks served as their only costume while they kept my guard for the evening. Halfway through the shadowy atrium, I finally recognized a song.
The Righteous Brother’s Unchained Melody began, and I stopped, taking a deep, calming breath. I remembered West’s favorite movie, Ghost, and the tumultuous emotions compounding all day suddenly overcame my ability to walk. Turning to the empty hallway leading to the fencing arena, I flattened my back against the wall and struggled with deep, calming breaths.
“Cam?” The guard’s familiar voice sounded next to me, and I turned, watching Logan lift his mask slightly.
“Oh Logan… thank God… I think I’m sick… in my mind, I can’t focus,” I felt the tears coming, but the other guard swept in to interrupt us. I straightened. Trying to still my quivering limbs, I nodded politely at my second sentry. “This song makes me sad. I’ll be okay,” my shaking voice betrayed my air of regality, and I took a step away from the wall.
Logan looked at the other soldier, and then to me. “I’ll watch the hall.” He backed away and turned the corner, leaving me alone with the other guard.
I sucked in my breath as the soldier reached for me. Instantly, I was defensive, readying myself for his assault.
The music is too loud for anyone to hear me scream… why isn’t Logan helping me? He’s going to attack me… I backed against the wall as the tall soldier reached for my face.
“I must warn you- if you touch me, you will be sorry,” I threatened, positioning myself to run for my sword. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
His voice weakened my knees. “What did I tell you about witty chit-chat?”
Catching me with one arm, he pulled the dark mesh hood over his head, and I held my breath as he gazed down at me adoringly.
“West?”
He lifted me up and against him, lowering his lips to mine.
Chapter Ten
His mouth hovered as his fingers slid over the back of my neck and into my hair. I closed my eyes, cupping his face in my hands, my fingertips tracing his lips and skimming his jaw. “Roam,” he whispered into my kiss, pressing my back against the wall gently. My heart pounded in my chest, relief leaving me gasping for air. His deep kiss twisted my body into a hurricane of wanting, stirring a need that had been buried for months.
Is this real? Am I hallucinating?
I don’t care.
“You came back,” I cried, and he pulled his face back to meet my eyes. His hands traced my sides as the lyrics to the love song spoke our words for us, the vibration of t
he bass in the walls deafening everything but West’s voice.
“I will always come back,” his fingers settled at my waist, and I watched the storm in his clear, blue eyes as he touched my stomach, over my corset.
The baby. “The morning we left… we made love… this is your baby,” I gripped his wrist, flattening his fingers over my middle. “Knowing I had part of you, with me… has kept me alive.”
Understanding swept over him, and he crushed me to him, burying his face in my hair. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I love every part of you.”
As the music swelled, I pulled away nervously. “What are you going to do?”
His voice lowered to a baritone hush as his lips touched my ear. “Violet has Eva in the secret room- the sword room. When the next song begins, it’ll be the signal that Will is waiting for. You have to go with Violet and Eva. You’ll be safe. Logan and I are going to kill Troy.”
I balled his sleeves into my hands, shaking my head. “No… West, they’ll kill you both, you’re not immortal here, you’ll die…,”
“Hey,” he pressed his lips to mine again, and then to my forehead. “Trust me.”
“I can’t let you go!”
“If anything happens to me, you get Violet and Eva to the door. Protect our children,” he gripped my face, the green paint smearing on his thumb. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you,” I deteriorated in his arms, fear stealing my ability to breathe. “God, I love you, I love you,” I whispered.
“Go. Go now,” he pointed to the hall as the song came to an end. I nodded, turning from him and running toward the arena.
The floor pulsated as the first clamoring chords of Rage Against the Machine’s Killing in the Name Of began.
I froze.
Remembering my words in West’s woods as I tried to learn how to shoot, I broke into a run.
I just wish we could go into this music montage like in the movies, where Rage Against the Machine plays and it takes me four and a half minutes to become a war-hardened samurai.
Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) Page 9
