“Just one moment,” Edward said in a jovial tone. “How about one more?”
“Do you really think that will do you much better than what you’ve already tried?” he asked. “Or does that thick skull of yours not know when to call it quits?”
“Oblige me.”
The stranger eyed Edward, wary at the new, calm, cool tone in his voice. “Fine. One more and then you are through.”
Edward gave a devilish smile as he threw the scroll to the floor. He was ready for his kill. He approached him with narrowed eyes and proceeded to inspect him up and down.
“Since I have only one guess left. Let’s make it a good one, shall we? Something rare. Something that I wouldn’t have thought about in twenty-eight years.” He leaned in and whispered, “Something like…Rumpelstiltskin.”
Deadly silence followed.
“Who told you that?” he growled.
Chapter Twelve
Unhappily: Rumpelstiltskin
Hatred burned in my stomach, and my hands shook as everything I wanted crumbled with a word. I truly was a fool to have ever offered him such a deal.
“Who the devil told you that name?” I demanded again.
Rage boiled in my heart, flooding my skin with heat. I wanted nothing more than to sink my fingers into the king’s face and rip that smug look from his skull.
“I can hardly recognize you,” the king continued as he inspected me closer. “You look nothing like your father. He was a warrior. You…you look like a weakling. Perhaps your mother dallied with a footman, and your father was too kind-hearted to disown you.”
“You’re the only bastard here,” I snapped.
“Is that any way to address your king? You have no right to speak to me that way. In fact, you have no rights whatsoever. All you have is a wicked tongue and some parlor tricks. Other than that, you are nothing but an ingrate. A worm I intend to squash beneath my boot.”
“You’d better be very careful or—”
“Or what?” the king taunted. “What on earth are you going to do? You’ve lost, and my son remains mine. The crown is once again secured from those freakish fingers of yours.”
He signaled to his guards and they quickly approached with drawn swords. There were more of them than last time, but I wasn’t concerned. My mind was too busy racing through a thousand possibilities to find the one way of turning all this to my advantage once again.
“Now I am going to finish what I should have all those years ago and reunite you with your dearly departed family. Be sure to say hello to your mother for me. She was a pretty thing, if I remember rightly.”
“If you think you can kill me, then you are stupider than I thought,” I said, fighting to regain control of myself and the situation. “You might have found my name and remembered the boy I was, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t kill you.”
His smile vanished, replaced by pure annoyance. The guards charged, but with one twist of my hand, a chorus of snapping necks echoed through the room. Their bodies fell like limp rags onto the floor, and a helmet rolled to a stop at my feet.
“I’ve waited too long for this moment,” I said. “You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt about this day. It was going to be slow, agonizing. I was going to enjoy your misery, to age it like a fine wine in oak.”
“I suppose now you are just going to snap my neck like you did these guards instead?” Edward asked, drawing his sword. “Then you would be a coward.”
“No, I would be infinitely smarter than what I plan to do,” I replied, conjuring a sword in my hand. “But, at the very least, I intend to serve you out the way you did my father. While lacking true artistry, it will at least be a magnificent gesture of justice.”
We circled one another. The rush of feet and silk skirts ran past me as Laila tried for the door. I stopped her in her tracks with a wave of my hand, immobilizing her and the child in her arms completely. She couldn’t miss the show. Not after how hard I worked for it.
Taking this as an opportune moment, the king struck with his sword. Clashing metal echoed through the room as I quickly blocked his blow.
“You amaze me,” he said as he swung at me again. “You wait all these years plotting and planning, coming up with some intricate game only to get this far and fail, for you will fail.”
I lunged at him and our blades crossed again. The sound of steel etching across steel pained my ears. He knocked me back and flung a chair in my path, but I kicked it out of the way. The wood splintered as it hit the wall. If only it had been his face.
We came at each other once more, our swords striking together in a symphony of clangs and scrapes.
“Why do you think I’ve failed?” I asked, backing him up against the table. Goblets of wine and dishes of rich foods spilled to the floor.
“Have you not?” he replied, striking out with his free hand, his fist crashing into my nose and sending me stumbling back. Pain spread through my brain like branches of lightning. “You wanted to steal my heir and take my throne. That’s always been your plot. The same plot as your father. You are both the same vile creature. Although, I’d venture to say you have outdone him, becoming some sort of monster straight from hell.”
My head still throbbing, I grunted with rage and swung my sword blindly. I felt a raw satisfaction as I saw the point slice into his cheek and blood drip down in long, red streaks. He groaned in agony like a wounded dog.
“I’m the monster?” I asked, taking my chance to close in on him. “You’re the one that delights in terror and torture. Look what you did to Laila, threatening her life with an impossible task, just for a bit of sport. You’re barbaric.”
“Why do you care what I did to her?” he asked, licking the blood from his lips. He narrowed his eyes, and a malicious grin split his face. “You’re in love with her! Ha, ha! That is the best joke! Fate must truly have a wicked sense of humor to curse you thus!”
I hit him as hard as I could with my sword, as if to knock away the awful sudden truth of his words, but he blocked my blow and held firm. Our blades shook as they slid downwards, and we glared murderously at each other.
“You’re wrong,” I said through clenched teeth. “I only care about one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Your death.”
“Then this will be a great disappointment for you.”
There was a quick, burning, agonizing sensation between my ribs. I gasped for air, but my lungs struggled to fill. I watched smug gratification wash over the king’s face. He thrust me back, and I stumbled, grabbing at the wall for support. I looked down to see a small dagger lodged deep in my chest.
“Funny,” he said. “That I should kill both father and son with the same blade. One might even call it poetic justice.”
I pulled the dagger out, wincing, but already, my body was healing itself. The magic I had been given by Fate had kept me alive through far worse than this. It was my turn for gratification as I saw the king’s smirk fade and be replaced with doubt and then fear.
“Poetic indeed,” I said, gazing at the blade.
Before he could move, I lunged at him and sunk his dagger deep into his chest, knowing I had hit his heart when the tip of the blade met resistance.
“You lose,” I whispered in his ear.
An intense thrill flowed through me as I twisted the blade. Blood seeped from his mouth and nose, while his eyes grew hollow. I let him drop to the floor with the weight of my vengeance that was no more.
It was done.
I waited for the triumph to fill me.
I remained empty. Exhausted. Unable to care.
Glancing over at Laila and the baby, I absently flicked my fingers in their direction, removing the freezing spell. I turned back to contemplate the body of my enemy on the floor, barely hearing her gasp behind me.
“I’ve made you a widow,” I said evenly.
She came to stand beside me, shielding the babe from the sight of its dead father.
“I can�
�t pretend to mourn him,” she said, though her bright eyes betrayed her. “He chose his path, just as you chose yours. If this is where it led him, so be it.”
“Always so cold,” I remarked sourly, unreasonable jealousy of her affection for a dead man running poisonously through my veins. “I sometimes wonder if that heart of yours is made completely of ice.”
“It is not,” she said. “It never was. I was desperate and in danger, and I made choices because of it. But, I was never without feeling.”
She sighed, sounding as tired as I felt, and stroked the baby’s downy hair. “It is over now, though. We are all free. We can begin again.”
Dread seized my vitals and squeezed with bloody claws.
“No, we cannot,” I said. “There is still your contract.”
Laila stared at me, rage and horror dancing in her dark eyes.
“That’s not possible!” she exclaimed. “Edward guessed your name. I heard him say it with my own ears. We know who you are, Rumpelstiltskin. We don’t owe you our child anymore. The contract has been fulfilled.”
My tongue felt leaden and reluctant in my mouth, but I forced it to form the words.
“Yes and no,” I murmured. “His contract was fulfilled, but yours isn’t.”
“Explain,” she demanded.
“You were right in not wanting him to sign the contract I gave him,” I said with a sigh. “Very astute of you, really. Pity he didn’t listen to your keen warnings. Sadly, he signed in his blood and now he is dead. That means the deal I offered him was rendered null and void the moment that vicious heart of his rung out its last infernal beat. However, as the blood was not your own, your deal with me still stands firm. That is why you have lost your child.”
“A loophole,” she said through clenched teeth. “I knew you’d do something like this.”
I gritted my teeth against a sudden wave of shame and guilt that I didn’t want to feel, for they were too closely connected to a truth I wanted to deny with all my heart: that I loved Laila.
“Of course I did something like this,” I snapped. “I built in loopholes to the loopholes in the contracts. I was not prepared to sacrifice my vengeance for anyone, nor would I risk it with any chance.”
“Now you have your vengeance! Edward is dead and everything he had is yours. Why do you still demand my child? Just let us go. Break the contract!” she cried.
I sighed. If only things would be so simple.
“You don’t understand. I can’t break it,” I said, glancing at the child. “The magic running through the page is bound to your blood. It is insoluble. The only way to be released from the contract is to go through with it.”
“I don’t believe you,” she shrieked, tears running down her face. “You can break it. You just don’t want to. You want everyone to suffer just like you. To feel the misery you damned yourself to wallow in.”
Her tears nearly undid me, but they could not undo the contract. Her accusations cut me deeper than any dagger ever could, and there was no magic to heal the heartache they left behind. She thought so little of me, she disdained me! She would be glad to be rid of me, and yet, I would never be complete again without her fire. Pain reared in my heart, fueling a fiery rage.
“You are never satisfied!” I shot back. “You know nothing! You do nothing—except take and take. Maybe it is you who are the true monster here!”
Her eyes widened, and I swallowed down my hurt. I couldn’t get into all this. Not now, not when the magic of the contract was beginning to pull at me, tugging raggedly at the edges of my magic.
“Give me the child,” I said. “Trust me and do as I say. You cannot break the contract. The child will be safe. I am bound to this just as much as you.”
The contract appeared in my hand, demanding its payment. That flame of desperation blazed in her chest as her eyes locked on the roll of paper in my grip.
She came to me, and I held my breath, waiting for her to hand me the child. She snatched the contract out of my hand and cast it into the fire.
Green sparks rose up from the flames, and the paper itself seemed to moan as it was consumed.
“What have you done?” I cried, aghast. “You little fool! There are more things at play here than just you and me. Damn you!”
Laila jumped back, her face filled with alarm as she clutched the babe fiercely to her breast. Frantically, I tried to think of what kind of magic would hold back what was coming, or whether I could write a new contract in the seconds that remained.
The walls and floors began to quake, pebbles and dust raining down on us.
It was too late. I was too late.
A vortex of utter darkness opened in the ceiling and swirled violently above us. I leapt over to Laila and pulled us to the ground, shielding her with my body. She held onto my shoulder with her free hand, looking up into my eyes with utter despair and an emotion I could not name. I ran my fingers through her hair, letting my thumb caress her cheek, uncaring that tears ran down my own.
Too late. Too late!
Three dark figures stretched unnaturally down from the vortex, their red eyes glowing as they flexed their long, dead fingers.
“What are they?” Laila whispered raggedly, huddling into my protective embrace.
“The Furies,” I choked out. “They come for those who—“
“Oath breaker!” they screamed, rushing at Laila.
I sent a blast of magic at them, but they dove right through it, unfazed. A flick of their fingers, and I was on my back, pinned to the floor, unable to do anything but watch in horror as they grabbed Laila by her arms and hair, dragging her toward the vortex.
I summoned every ounce of power I possessed and broke free of their spell, lunging forward and grabbing Laila by the wrist. I rooted my magic down through the floors, into the earth itself. I sent blast after blast of raw power at the creatures.
“Please!” Laila begged between gasps and screams as they dug their claws into her flesh. “Please!”
I knew what she was trying to say. It was the same thing the compulsion that now sang in my blood demanded.
Let her go.
Save the child.
The contract was calling on my blood, demanding I meet the terms. I braced every nerve and sinew in my body to resist, but the oath magic was inexorable.
“Don’t tell him what I did,” she sobbed. “Don’t ever let him know the shame of his mother. If there is only one kindness you ever show me, let it be this.”
She released the baby just as I was compelled to release her wrist and catch him. Laila flew deep into the embrace of the monsters, who retreated into the darkness, pulling it up behind them.
There was nothing left. Only silence, the crackling of the fire, and a dead king on the floor.
Laila’s son wailed in my arms, demanding my attention be on it alone. I looked down at him. Though he had his father’s eyes, the rest of his features were undeniably his mother’s. Bitterly, I realized I would never be free of either of them now that I was bound to their babe.
I wanted to yell at Tristan to quit his squalling, but all I could do was coo and murmur gently in defiance of my heart, “Hush, it’s all right now. You’re safe.”
A tear I didn’t realize I had shed fell onto his smooth cheek, and I brushed it away.
“What drama! What tragedy!” someone exclaimed sardonically behind me, clapping his hands. “A shame it all had to make such an awful mess. The inlay on the floor will never quite be the same, but that is unfortunately how these things usually end.”
I turned around and was met by the angelic face and striking blue eyes of Fate. He looked just as he did the last time I saw him.
“A shame she didn’t believe you,” he said. “You could have returned the child to her once the goods were exchanged. Ohhhh, by the look on your face, I can see you didn’t think of that. Or, perhaps you didn’t know that such a thing was possible with those kinds of oaths. Well, perhaps it’s as good a time as any for you to remember t
hat anything can be negotiated in this life.”
With perfect, icy, calmness, I walked back to the crib and gently placed Tristan down among the covers, carefully drawing the blanket over him. I then walked back to Fate, ready to use all of my power to blast him back to the shades of Hell.
“You may be asking yourself what I’m doing here,” he quipped, seeming not at all bothered by my menace. “I came to offer you my congratulations! It’s not every day I witness such a beautifully gruesome end of a mortal. You did very well, just as I hoped.”
He strode over to the king’s body and nudged it delicately with the toe of his boot.
“I’m glad I lived up to your standards,” I ground out between my teeth, holding my magic in abeyance by some warning instinct.
“Of course,” he said, “you don’t deserve all the credit. I might have helped just a tiny bit. I can’t help myself from meddling. It’s in my nature, you know.”
“What do you mean by helped?” I demanded, suspicions too dreadful to name rolling relentlessly through my mind.
He smiled and knelt down next to the king’s corpse. He took off the heavy crown and examined the shimmering jewels set deep within the gold.
“For starters, let’s just say the king certainly enjoyed my little ditty when he came romping through the woods last night. He was awfully curious of what I had to tell him. Poor fellow! You didn’t set him a very easy task having to guess your name.”
Acid burned in my breast. I felt sick. He stood up and tossed the crown to the floor where it landed with a heavy clatter.
“You’re the one that told him?” I panted. “You’re who robbed me of what I was promised?”
He placed a firm finger against my lips. “I promised you nothing. I simply gave you what you required to do the job.”
I slapped his hand away. He looked pleased, ecstatic even.
“You told me death was too quick, that I should savor his demise,” I reminded him. “Why would you take that away from me?”
Spin: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Spindlewind Trilogy Book One) Page 16
