by J. E. Taylor
I ran my fingers over the cold steel before I slid my hand into the basket hilt, pulling the blade from the wall. With my mother’s blade in my hand, I turned and walked out of the bedroom with a new sense of confidence. Before I left, I grabbed a half-eaten loaf of bread and tore a sizeable piece off with my teeth.
When I stepped outside, I glanced at the trough where I had left Rio. The horse wasn’t drinking water anymore. I closed the door and glanced around the clearing. He wasn’t in the clearing. I whistled and waited.
Rio didn’t come. I leaned against the closed door. With one last look in the direction we’d come from, I turned the opposite way, towards the north. Towards my likely demise.
Chapter 8
Instead of following the walking path, I chose to make my way through the woods. The trees and bushes offered more protection than the open road. I didn’t know if anything had breached our haven since we were attacked by the small group of dead soldiers, and I didn’t want to find out.
I hadn’t ventured this way since we’d settled in the cottage, and now I understood why. The woods were thick with prickers and undergrowth. My progress was slower than the road would have been, especially since I had to hack my way through the thicker brush.
I burned through the bread I had eaten, and now my stomach was making noises like an angry hog. If there had been any forest animals in the vicinity, the grumbling in my belly would have sent them scampering away in horror.
My arm ached in a way that made it feel as if I were carrying ten gallons of water instead of a broadsword. Each swing became less and less effective until I had to strike multiple times to clear even the smallest vine.
My senses were playing tricks on me as well. Exhaustion had a way of doing that to me. It messed with my perception. Too many times I spun to sounds behind me. Too many times I confused the rumbling in my belly with the ground groaning underneath me. Too many times I jerked my head at something at the edge of my field of vision.
I didn’t know which I needed more—food or a nap.
When the space beyond my hacking sword opened up, I rubbed my eyes to make sure what I was seeing wasn’t a mirage. I stepped through the last of the underbrush into a wide-open glade full of trees.
Apple trees.
My mouth watered, and I stumbled forward on legs that felt more like stiff planks than flesh and blood. By the time I reached the nearest tree, my stomach cramped in anticipation, and it took me three tries to cut an apple from the branch.
I caught the red delight and heartily bit into it. Sweet tang filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes, relishing the taste. When only the core was left, I plucked another one from the tree. And another, and another, until a dozen cores littered the grass around me.
With a satisfied stomach, I crossed the orchard. Just before the woods, I caught a golden flash in the closest apple tree. I turned, taking in the sea of red apples framing a bright golden apple. This one was larger than its red cousins, and curiosity filled me.
I couldn’t recall having an apple of this color and wondered if it would be just as sweet and crisp. My mouth watered, despite already having my fill. I pierced the golden orb with my sword and inspected it. I gripped it and pulled it from my blade, testing the consistency and weight of the apple.
The firm fruit smelled like honey and apple and cinnamon all mixed in a delicious brew that I hadn’t encountered before. I tore a big enough chunk to get a full taste of the fruit. While it was crisp, it was also more than sweet. I swallowed the bite and took another to confirm whether I liked it or not.
Sourness wrapped around my mouth, turning the sweet into a puckering tang. I swallowed and stared at the apple in my hand. A shiver spread through my body. I sniffed the apple just to make sure one side hadn’t turned overripe, but it still smelled as good as the apple cider had the other morning.
I took another bite, this time with more caution. The same sweet blast of juice caressed my tongue, but then it turned vile. This time I spit the remnants on the ground. It didn’t seem to staunch the terrible taste that tightened my throat.
I dropped the apple and took a few steps before the world tilted. I stabbed the ground with my sword to steady myself, but it didn’t help. I coughed and wheezed, clawing at my neck as whatever was in that apple closed down my airway.
My knees gave out, and hitting the hard ground pushed the last of the air from my lungs. I sounded like a boiling tea kettle taken off a stove. My arms fell to my sides, and I fell forward, thwacking the ground with my full weight.
The woods around me started moving, but my eyelids refused to stay open. The last thing I heard was a dry chuckle that reminded me of brittle leaves.
Chapter 9
Cold wetness flowed over my face. I shook my head and wet hair stuck to my cheek. I blinked and tried to step away from the stream of chilling water, but I could not. It drenched my clothes, and I shivered.
“Close it.” The sharp voice rang in my water-logged ears.
The waterfall slowed to a stop. I shook as my vision righted. My wrists were encircled with iron manacles. My boots had been stripped, and frigid metal bit into my ankles. There was no range of motion for either my hands or feet and no access to magic with the iron holding me in place.
I shook my head, clearing my wet hair out of my eyes.
The room that came into view clenched my bladder. This room was Queen Odette’s death room, and I was in the honored spot. Rivets carved the floor leading into the deep red, shimmering pool that wreaked of iron. I swallowed, and my gaze darted to my right.
Perched on an unadorned throne at the top of the steps was the queen. Her blonde hair fell in soft curls down her shoulders, and her light blue eyes pierced into mine like an eagle targeting her prey. Her petal-pink lips twitched into a smile.
Her outward beauty hid the vile evil residing within her alabaster skin. Hatred rolled off her like a malignant disease.
The frigid air wrapped around me, leaving my teeth chattering as violently as the iron chains.
Queen Odette stood and crossed the distance, the white dress she wore drifted behind her as if it was made of smoke. Languid and deadly, she approached me, inspecting me like a treasured pet.
I pressed against the rough wall, shrinking away from her.
“I was pleased that the apple my mage placed in the orchard caught your attention,” she said. Her voice dripped like honey, sweet and soothing, and she reached out and traced a line from my throat to right above my heart, where she dug her sharp nail into my flesh.
I sucked air between my teeth at the sudden flare of pain.
“I cannot seem to take the magic nestled inside you.” Her gaze slid to mine, and she tilted her head. “It seems I need your permission.”
A bark of a laugh escaped from my tight chest.
I had witnessed her stealing the powers of others. Not once did she need their permission to take what she wanted. Every time, the bodies were left as dead husks, drained of magic, drained of blood. Blood used to fill her infernal pool.
And with each death, Queen Odette had glowed with the infusion of life.
I had no idea why she couldn’t gain access to my magic. She never had that issue before, at least not that I had been aware of. But I thanked the gods for that small gift, or otherwise I wouldn’t be breathing right now.
“Give it to me,” she hissed as her eyes blazed.
“No.” The growl in my voice sent her back a step.
She pulled her fingernail from my skin and pointed the dripping digit at me. “I promise you, you will regret refusing me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, conjuring up a glare that matched hers. I lifted my chin in defiance. “You will never possess my magic.”
The way she smiled at me sent burning fear through my blood. Fear that stripped me of a retort and left me trembling.
She turned and stomped across the room, then disappeared into the hallway. When the door slammed closed, and I was sure I was alone, I slump
ed against the wall, blinking the sting from my eyes. My heart clanged in my chest, powered by the adrenaline rush fading in my veins. The cold seeped in deeper, right down to the marrow.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my teeth to remain still despite my constant shiver. I focused on my wrist and the cuff links I’d specifically attached to help if I found myself in a situation like this.
I twisted and turned my wrists until the hem of my sleeves reached each of my palms. The concentration needed for such a slow task took my mind off the hideous cold that penetrated the room. With my fingers, I slid the fabric along from one side to the opposite side, feeling for the lock picks I’d hid.
Nothing.
I closed my eyes, convinced I wasn’t trying hard enough.
I repeated moving each sleeve until it covered most of my hands. My inspection became frantic as I searched, my blood pulsing in my temples.
The cuff links were gone.
Despair wrapped its frigid hand around my soul and squeezed until I thought I would burst.
I yanked at the iron, letting out a scream containing every ounce of my frustration.
Chapter 10
The echo of my scream bounced around the room like a mountain yodel that carried for miles.
The door creaked open and Queen Odette entered. She crossed and stopped in front of me, opening her hand. “Looking for these?”
My lock picks sat in her palm. She turned her hand over, and they dropped to the ground, along with the last vestige of hope I had.
I snarled and lunged for her as red fury filled me, roaring like an unchecked forest fire.
Queen Odette recoiled, stepping back, her face falling into a mask of shock for a brief instant. She brushed her dress, reset her face, and then turned towards the door, snapping her finger.
A figure wrapped in a dark cape crossed to her. My mother’s sword peeked out from under the fabric.
“That’s my sword,” I snapped, glaring at the figure.
A skeletal hand came up and pushed the hood back.
I stared in horror at the empty sockets and the thin grey mask of skin covering the skeleton that stared in my direction. When it raised the sword, turning it one way and then the other as if inspecting it, I thought I would vomit.
“I believe that is yours, correct, Margaret?”
“Yes, my grace,” the skeleton said in a gravel-laden voice.
It had been almost fifteen years since I’d heard that voice, and although it sounded like she was speaking through a layer of dirt, I still recognized it. My knees nearly gave out. Even though I had guessed that Queen Odette had given my mother’s dead body reanimation, it still shook me to the core. This thing, this monster, was my mother risen from the grave to serve this... this vile, evil bitch.
My brain couldn’t grasp it.
Flashes of my mother brushing my hair, tucking me in bed, kissing my forehead, singing me lullabies, hugging me until her sweet floral scent wrapped around me as tightly as her arms... So many vivid memories. And every one of them overlaid this skeletal thing with my mother’s real features.
“I would like to see how sharp it is,” Queen Odette said.
The skeleton of my mother raised the sword, pointing it at me. She paused and tilted her head. Even though she didn’t have eyes, I could almost envision her bright blue irises peering at me in her silent and questioning gaze.
Queen Odette studied me. “Shoulder.”
Even before she finished saying the word, the tip of the sword sliced through my shoulder, scratching over bone and slicing tendon before the metal scraped the wall behind me.
My breath locked in my chest as the pain flared, hot and wild.
When the blade retracted, I cried out.
The skeleton showed the bloody sword to the queen.
“That will be all for now, Margaret,” Queen Odette said, dismissing the dead mage.
Hot liquid dripped down my side, staining my shirt. I watched the thing that was once my mother scuttle out of the room like an insect. My mind screamed, but I wouldn’t allow another sound to escape from my tightly closed lips.
I focused on the queen.
An amused smile played on her lips, and all I wanted to do was wipe it off.
She reached out and poked the wound in my shoulder, digging her finger between the broken folds of skin.
My eyes bulged with the pressure of my agony. I grunted, clenching my teeth. Tears burned as they filled my eyes, but I couldn’t give in. I didn’t care if she cleaved off my arms, gouged out my eyes, cut my tongue out. She was not going to get me to agree to give her my magic.
That would be the world’s death sentence.
She wiggled her finger, scraping her nail on my already raw skin. “I have a feeling physical anguish will not be the thing that breaks you.”
Her whisper left me cold. I stared at her and reached deep inside myself, mentally stroking my writhing magic, trying to calm the panic gripping every cell.
With a vicious yank, she dislodged her finger and wiped her hand on a clean section of my shirt. She tapped my nose. “I’m sure I can find something to break that resolve of yours.”
She turned dismissively and marched out of the room.
Air rasped into my lungs as my chest tightened. My shoulder throbbed and my back ached. I glanced at the windows and the darkening skies. Dread laced its icy fingers through mine and squeezed in a painful grip.
I prayed.
I prayed for my mother.
I prayed for my friends.
But more than anything else, I prayed for a miracle.
Chapter 11
The night came in all its freezing glory. Wind whipped through the windows, swirling around me in a mini twister. My breath created frost on the air and my teeth chattered relentlessly.
I had no idea how many hours passed while I shivered in the dark. My fingers numbed about the same time as my toes, and since then I had just stared out the window wondering what horrors the queen would bring with her the next time she entered the room.
By the time the sun rose, I could hardly keep my eyes open. My fingers had gone numb and my knees had long since given out. I knelt on the cold floor with my arms spread wide by the chains.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift to Henry. Pain shot through the center of my being, right to the core of my soul. I wanted to tell him I loved him one more time. I wanted to see his smile and hear his laugh. I wanted to feel his tender touch lighting my skin on fire. My mind shuffled through random memories, sustaining me, reliving them through every breath I took.
The warmth of the sun heated me and made the hideous death room almost bearable. Bright rays danced on the blood pool, making the walls shimmer red.
My stomach growled, but I ignored it, concentrating on the magic inside me. While the iron shackles kept me from tapping my magic to impact anything around me, like undo these god-awful restraints, I still had mastery over it inside my skin. I wielded it against the death that crept through my blood, slowing down my demise.
With each second, I could feel the light inside me decaying. I had no idea how I would beat the queen at her morbid game, but I needed to live. I needed to survive long enough to plunge a blade into her dark heart and banish the dead.
The squeak of the door pulled my eyes open, and I glanced at the procession of lifeless soldiers. They took spots as sentries around the room.
It wasn’t until two soldiers dragged in a violently moving sack that dread sucked the air from my lungs. Curses as dark as the queen herself flew from inside the burlap, and when it was cut open, Domino fell onto the floor on his hands and knees in front of me.
I gasped.
His gaze lifted to mine. His eyes widened, and he stilled. All fight left him, and the horror reflected in his eyes tore at my insides.
“You must not give in,” he whispered. “No matter the cost.”
I swallowed the bile that burned the back of my throat. The queen’s kill room was only meant for
death. Those that entered never left. My chest squeezed as I stared at Domino’s deep, soulful eyes.
I opened my mouth to ask where the others were, but Queen Odette stepped into the room before I had a chance. My mother trailed behind the queen still holding my sword. Sunlight glinted off the metal, screaming its harmful intent.
If they had Domino...
My skin broke out in a sweat, and any chill still set in my bones disappeared with the flash of hot fear. Blood flowed like lava in my veins pumping hard enough for me to hear the dull thunder. My throat dried out. Swallowing felt like someone had shoved a handful of rough sand in my mouth.
Queen Odette stepped behind Domino and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back far enough for me to see the tendons press against his skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed. She pulled a blade from her belt and held it to his throat. “Give me your magic and I’ll spare him.”
Domino stared at me. Fear flashed in his eyes as he whispered, “Don’t.”
The queen yanked on his hair and whispered a dark incantation that stripped him of his voice. He shook his head, defying her without words.
I clenched my jaw as tears blurred my vision. “No.” I forced the word between my teeth despite every fiber of my being screaming to save my friend. The decision tore me apart just as effectively as the blade slicing through Domino’s throat.
Blood splattered over the front of me.
I shuddered, blinking as the horror of the moment sank in. I tilted my head back and screamed my sorrow, my fear, my oath. I couldn’t reconcile the goodness I professed with the refusal to do the one thing that would have saved him.
The queen waited until Domino no longer twitched with any hint of life. His eyes glazed over as the last of his blood trailed into the pool. She dropped him to the ground and stepped over him, approaching me. She wiped the knife with the hem of my skirt and slipped it back into the sheath before crouching in front of me.
