by Emma Hamm
The chair shifted out from underneath the table, pushed by a gray foot with claws at the tip.
The choice to run removed, Amicia put her crutches aside and lowered herself with a thud into the chair. It hurt her leg, but the spike of pain helped clear her mind from the terror freezing the blood in her veins.
Her father would have been disappointed in her. He hadn’t raised a woman to flinch away from monsters. He’d tried to raise her to see beyond the fear and understand why she didn’t feel like she belonged. Or why they wanted to hurt her.
She’d been the first child to take a feral dog in, to not be afraid of snapping jaws and ferocious snarls. She could tame those beasts, so why did these terrify her so?
Amicia knew the answer to the question the moment she thought it. These weren’t monsters. These were people in the bodies of animals. They had feelings like any other person. They knew what they were doing, and they still hunted, killed, destroyed.
Somehow, such knowledge made their actions all the worse.
The King of the Dread said nothing to her. Instead, he lifted a hand. Suddenly, the walls opened up, revealing hidden doors that led into the kitchens she had yet to see. So many rooms, so many kitchens, so many places in this chateau that stretched on forever.
Food had been set upon the tables. Four roast turkeys, plates full of carrots, potatoes, and bread. So much food she couldn’t imagine where they had gotten it all in the middle of winter.
Her expression must have played her thoughts like a book. The Dread on the other side of the King snorted. “We got it from your village, girl,” he snarled. “You don’t recognize it?”
Amicia straightened her back and croaked, “No. I don’t recognize stolen food.”
Only then did the King speak. He grunted out a low growl, then said, “Food is food, whether or not it’s stolen. You’ll eat it.”
Her sudden bravery disappeared the moment she heard his voice. Amicia didn’t hear the words he’d said. All she heard was, You should never have come here.
The King stared at her, watching her expression with red eyes.
Amicia held his gaze and her own breath. What would he do now? Grab her by the throat again and toss her down the table for the feast?
A servant leaned in front of her and set down a bowl of green soup. Pea soup? She had expected raw meat from these creatures, not something that looked so civilized.
“Meek is not what I expected from you,” he said, spooning soup into his mouth.
Amicia was fascinated he even knew how to use a spoon. He held it between his claws with almost grace, although she hated to pair the word with him. “You threw me off the roof of the chateau. You broke my body, and yet you expect me to be… what? Forceful in my demands?”
“Did I break your spirit as well?” He lifted a dark brow. “Tis a shame.”
“You destroyed my home, killed my people, and what few were left you turned into monsters like yourself. You and your people hunted me for days while I tried to hide and wait out the storm. Then you broke my arm, my leg, my ribs. I have no fight left in me.” She licked her lips, voice shaking with emotion. “Whatever you plan on doing with me, do it now. I’m done being toyed with.”
Her ragged speech rang through the air and settled into the sudden silence of Dread who stared at her in shock. Perhaps she still had a little fight left, after all. A meek woman, a scared woman, would never have taken such a tone with the King of the Dread.
Amicia held her chin high and stared down the table at them all. She would not look at their king, who likely was already gnashing his teeth in her direction. She would observe his people, some who might have been once her people. They would remember her bravery first, and not that she had given up.
Instead of snapping jaws, all she heard from the creature beside her was the soft clink of a spoon hitting a bowl.
When she couldn’t take the slurping sounds any longer, Amicia broke and looked over at him. He was waiting for her. A grin flashed across his face, revealing sharp teeth.
“Quite a speech,” he replied. “But I’m afraid I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. You’ll have to wait a little longer.”
“I don’t enjoy being the mouse to your cat.”
“Ah, but I like your spirit.” He pointed at her bowl with his spoon. “Eat. Gather your strength so you might heal the wounds I inflicted.”
She waited for him to say more, something, anything. But he didn’t. Instead, he continued to eat as though her outburst had never happened.
What madness was this? He was evil. She knew that in her very soul. No good person, nor one with gray morals, would allow someone to kill another. But evil people didn’t heal those they had harmed.
She picked up her spoon and tasted the food. Were they poisoning her? She had seen none of the others with upset stomachs. Yet. There was always the chance they ate something different from her, or the food would kill a human.
The soup tasted like pea soup. Rather good, albeit a little bland.
Her stomach rolled underneath her ribs, and the food stuck in her throat. Amicia set her spoon down after a few sips. Throwing up the food that the Dread had worked hard on would only be seen as another insult. For the time being, it appeared she was on friendly terms with the beasts.
The Dread seated to her right was smaller than the others. Similar to Bernard in build, it struggled to use the utensils. All the Dread were struggling through this dinner, she noted.
Amicia tapped the table, garnering the attention of the Dread to her right. “You don’t usually eat like this, do you?”
It flicked its eyes to the King, then remained silent.
She looked over at the creature to her left who acted as though nothing had happened. “Am I not allowed to ask questions of your people?”
He shrugged. “You may ask as many questions as you wish.”
“But will they answer?”
Once again, he shrugged. He reached forward for a loaf of bread, split it in half, and used one piece to mop up the remaining soup in his bowl. All this, and he did not answer her question.
“Am I a prisoner?” she asked.
“This is a chateau, not a prison.”
“But am I a prisoner?” Amicia’s sharpened her voice into the crack of a whip.
He popped the bread in his mouth, chewing almost silently while meeting her gaze head on. “That remains to be seen.”
“Are there rules to this? Some engagement I might entertain to sway your opinion of prisoner rather than guest?” Amicia glanced down the table when a few of the Dread snickered.
The King of the Dread chuckled along with them. “There are engagements you could consider, but I highly doubt you would be interested in such… entertainment.”
Breathing hard and trying to keep herself in the seat so she didn’t wrap her own hands around his throat, she took a long, deep breath and replied, “Then I am a prisoner.”
“Perhaps. Time will tell, little human.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
The King of the Dread set the bread down on the table, hooked an arm over the back of his chair, and turned toward her. He was too close, too big, sucking up all the air in the room. He was too intense, too broad, too… everything.
“What else would I call you?” he asked.
“Mademoiselle,” she snarled.
“You have no name?”
“Not one you are allowed to call me.” Amicia fisted her hands in her lap. “If this is a game for you, know it is not for me. You killed my family, took everything away from me, and now you toy with me as a cat does a mouse. I am not a mouse, monsieur.”
He leaned closer, inhaling her scent as an animal might. “And yet, you hid in my walls. Scratching behind the wallpaper just as a mouse might. Perhaps I shall call you petite souris, little mouse.”
Amicia stood abruptly, the legs of her chair squealing against the marble. Her leg screamed at the movement, bone shifting against broken bone,
but she hardly felt the pain.
All the Dread stared at her then, some with eyes wide in shock, others with a hunger she felt deep in her belly. They were toying with her. Playing some game she didn’t know the rules for.
No more. She would no longer endure this madness.
“Sit down,” the King ordered.
Amicia straightened her shoulders, reached for her crutches, and replied, “No.”
The King’s eyes widened, and a muscle on his jaw jumped. “What did you say to me?”
“I said no. I will not endure a moment more of this charade. I avail myself of this evening, monsieur. I have never, and will never, suffer the company of a cruel-hearted man. Good evening.” She tucked the crutches under her arms and made her way back toward the door.
He called out after her, “Then you are a prisoner, petite souris.”
“Not for long,” she snarled. “Be certain of that, grand imbécile.”
Amicia left with the raucous laughter of the Dread ringing in her ears. Whether they were laughing at her or her words, she would never know.
Chapter 16
Amicia couldn’t remain in the kitchens for any longer. She’d been here yet another week with none other than her unwilling manservant. And she couldn’t stand a single second more, or she would shred Bernard’s wings.
He sang when he cooked, a new development compared to a week ago. And he sang horribly. Off key. In the worst ways she had never heard someone wail before. Because Amicia could hardly think of it as singing, and to save her own sanity, she couldn’t listen a moment longer.
Amicia tucked the crutches underneath her arms and started toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Bernard asked, stopping mid verse.
“To the library.”
“You aren’t supposed to wander the castle without me.” He wiped his hands on his apron, staring at the unfinished loaf of bread with a sad sigh before starting after her.
“I don’t need a guard all the time,” she grumbled.
“But the master said—”
“And I don’t care what your master said. I’m going to the library, you’re staying here to finish your work, and neither of us will get into trouble.” Amicia glanced over her shoulder to cast a withering stare in his direction. “No more, Bernard. I will return in one piece.”
He wrung his hands, struggling with the order. He had much to finish, as his job here was more than just looking after her. “Fine. Just stay out of trouble, please. Otherwise it’ll be my head on the chopping block.”
“Somehow, I doubt anyone else would want to deal with me. The King needs you until he decides to put me out of my misery.” Amicia made her way out the door and down the immaculate halls to the library.
She would find some book to keep her mind off the terrible caterwauling of the Dread who never left her side. The King of the Dread must have given her this manservant because he knew how annoying Bernard could be. He thought to drive her mad rather than kill her.
Two could play at that game. She would steal books from the library, specifically on torture, and someday she would drive nails underneath the King of the Dread’s fingers.
Amicia turned a corner, twisting her broken leg a little too far. It ached, as it always did when she moved too fast. Two weeks, and it still wasn’t any better than the moment he had thrown her off the top of the chateau. She thought by now she would at least see some kind of improvement. Instead, she would hazard to say it was worse. Growing more and more difficult to walk on her own.
The library doors loomed in front of her. Their dark wood so different from the rest of the chateau. Why was this place different from the rest? Perhaps she would have asked the King if she didn’t want to tear him limb from limb.
Stepping into the library, however, was like taking a fresh breath of air after living inside for years. The smell of parchment relaxed all the tense muscles in her body. She had forgotten how being surrounded by books could make her so blissful.
Hundreds of novels filled the room. Amicia didn’t know which one she wanted but any of them would do. She wanted to disappear for a few hours into a world unlike this one. It didn’t matter what world that was.
Books had a way of transporting the reader into a place better than the one they struggled through.
She hobbled over to a shelf and snagged the first book her fingers brushed against, then made her way to the twin chairs near the windows. The sun shone on the snow outside the glass, so bright it lit up the entire library with its glimmering reflection.
“If only you had come out when I was trying to escape,” she muttered. She slumped into the chair on the right and leaned her crutches against the window. “I could have used the sun that day.”
Now, there was so much snow outside she couldn’t have managed with two good legs. Let alone the broken body she’d now been handed. And none of the snow appeared to be melting. It was as if the chateau was enclosed in its own glass snow globe. Stuck in winter for all eternity.
Considering what the Dread looked like, Amicia wouldn’t be surprised if it was always winter here. She allowed her gaze to linger on the frozen lake beyond, covered by snow so no one would even know the dangers beneath their feet, then she turned to the book.
This one wasn’t like the first she’d picked up on Little Marsh. Instead, the pages were filled with the adventures of a man named Padraig from a far-off land. He traveled across the seas into lands long forgotten that held great beasts, whom he did not kill, but tamed.
She was so engrossed in the story and the fantasy she didn’t hear the library door open. Amicia was holding her breath at the climax of the story when two feet stepped into her line of vision just above the spine of the book. Gray feet, clawed, with long backward knees that warped the figure in front of her.
She thought to herself, please be anyone but him.
Luck had never been on her side. Lifting her gaze from the book, she looked up at the King of the Dread who stared down at her with a curious expression on his face. It was almost as though she had confused him just by sitting in this chair.
When he said nothing, just glowered at her, she cleared her throat. “Can I help you, grand imbécile?”
Her voice seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. The King shook himself, rather like a dog getting out of the water, and replied, “What are you doing here?”
She lifted the book in her hands. “Reading.”
“I can see that, but why are you here?”
She could answer a question like that a hundred different ways, but Amicia settled on the truth. “To read.”
His nostrils flared wide in a deep inhale she assumed was in frustration but could very well have just been pure anger. His eyes flared brighter, and his strange cat-eye slits narrowed until there was barely any pupil left staring at her. Then, he turned on his heel and stalked away from her.
Good riddance. The last person she wanted in this library with her when she was finding a bit of peace in such a cursed place was the King who had started it all.
Amicia turned back to her book, diving into the story of Padraig and the three-headed dragon who had plagued a town. Padraig would not kill the beast; he would tame it with an offering of gold he’d stolen from a local witch.
She could only imagine how he would tame a dragon. She’d heard of their sort before. They were terrifying beasts with a hunger that could not be satisfied. Gold was their weakness. But was it enough to save an entire town when the beast was starving?
A loud thump interrupted her reading, followed by a cloud of dust bursting into the air and filling her nose. She sneezed, accidently jerking her broken arm too hard. The sneeze merged into a moan of pain even as she turned to glare at the creature seated beside her.
The King acted like nothing had happened. He held a tiny book in his hands, not quite a novel and more like a journal. A pale blue cover with gold caps on the corners suggested it was once owned by a very important person.
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“Now, what are you doing?” she grumbled.
“Reading.”
“Why?”
He held up the book and then placed a finger against his lips. “Libraries are supposed to be quiet places.”
Was he shushing her? How dare he even consider such a thing when he was nothing more than an animal who had taken over this place? He couldn’t know what a library was.
But… how else would he know people were meant to be quiet in libraries?
She turned back to her story and allowed him to read. The question could wait. He had made it clear she might live a little longer. Which gave her a small moment to breathe.
Now, the only thing she wanted was to heal and then perhaps escape. She needed to find out more secrets about the castle, ask those who lived here ways to leave. With the storm no longer raging outside, the snow would eventually melt. Then, she could make it if her leg was better.
The question of how he knew of libraries burned, however. It ached inside her, digging at her ribs and spine until she could barely handle it any longer. He said the words as though he’d been in a library. Not just a room which held a collection of books in his own home, but a real library, as there were in the cities.
How could a creature like him ever walk into a normal building? Let alone such a sacred place?
Amicia leaned back in her chair, curious about the creature next to her but not wanting to appear as if she cared at all about him. “When was the last time you were in a library?”
“A few hundred years ago I imagine,” he murmured, thumbing open his story and slumping into his own chair. “The great Library of Omra, the largest city on the continent and the greatest collection of stories.”
She’d heard of Omra, but only in passing. It was too far away for anyone to travel in a lifetime, and yet he claimed he’d been there? And that he was hundreds of years old?
Amicia looked back at her own pages, but the words blurred before her eyes. Questions welled up inside her until she felt near to bursting. “Hundreds of years ago? Omra must be a very different place now.”
