A flicker of a thought raced through her mind, too quickly for her to capture and examine. She tilted her head to the side.
“Rex,” she said slowly.
He turned to face her, hope filling his features. It made her feel guilty for what she was about to do. Striding closer, she brushed her fingers down his taut navy-blue shirt. The muscles beneath flexed. Four other men looked on, but she tried not to think about that. “The men, when they attacked me…” The shiver that ran down her spine was far from faked, and Rex stepped into her, snaking an arm around her waist, like he couldn’t help himself.
“They said that Oricus had offered me to everyone but them. To all of you,” she continued, looking around at them.
Rex squeezed her waist while the others avoided her gaze. Xalicur lowered his head so she couldn’t see his expression, but the way he scrubbed the back of his neck with a hand and shifted his weight made him look all the more guilty.
Looking up into Rex’s eyes again, she was captured by the brilliant blue sky within them. “What does that mean? Isn’t the Mark automatic? Decided by some greater force, or something?”
Rex’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his swallow rough in the silence.
Dread filled her veins with ice at the guilt she saw on his handsome features. “Rex,” she breathed. “What’s going on?” She tried to step out of his hold, but his arm locked tighter around her.
Rasimus stepped toward them, looking like he was about to speak, but Rex held up a hand to him.
He half smiled. “They were jealous fools. Oricus never offered you to anyone that you weren’t already mated to. Why do you think he punished them so harshly? If anyone but the twelve of us touched you, we’d all do the same. The bond is primal.” With his other hand he brushed a few errant strands from her face, letting the tips of his fingers brush her heated skin. His head dipped to whisper just above her lips, “There is nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”
His words were sweet and sticky lies. She jerked back, breaking his steely hold. “Everything but tell me the truth,” she retorted.
His brows creased and he took a step toward her.
“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping away in tandem.
“Harlow,” Lefayon warned. “You know nothing about this. I promise it’ll all become clear one day, but you have to trust that we’ll protect you and care for you until this world and the next fades away. We are eternal.” Harlow couldn’t believe such heartfelt words fell from his lips—Lefayon radiated the same cold indifference to the world as his brother Oricus. “The thirteen of us are irrevocably bonded, and will be, until the end of time. If it ever ends.” She heard the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice, but she hiked up her chin and drew her shoulders back.
“If you can’t trust me enough to give me the answers I want, then how can you expect me to trust any of you with my body or my heart?”
Before anyone could answer, the door to her room opened and two women were tossed to the floor. They barely made a sound, save for the slap of their palms on the hard stone. Viktor stepped in behind them and rolled his shoulders back. Harlow shot Viktor a glare over her shoulder for handling the women so roughly, but he’d gone back to leaning against the wall like it was his duty to hold it upright, eyes closed.
“Emuria! Jezzebelle!” Harlow rushed over to the two girls to help them to her feet. Jezzebelle pulled away, not allowing anyone to help. Both she and Emuria looked around the room, first at the men gathered, then at the dead insect and the blood pooled beneath the two halves of it.
“A qauitocent,” Emuria whispered, her dark eyes wide.
“Who did the search of these chambers before letting Miss Marks retire for the night?” Rasimus demanded. His bloody sword was still clasped in his hand. Emuria glanced at it before swallowing audibly.
Harlow already knew the answer to that, and she knew Rasimus did too. Emuria had brought her dinner and they ate together while Emuria attempted to teach Harlow a game called Meko Jiks. It involved throwing multifaceted gemstones the size of dice that determined how many cards you drew from the deck or discarded. There were a bunch of other rules too, but Harlow hadn’t so much cared about the fact that she was rubbish at the game as she did about spending time with her only friend in the castle.
Before Harlow had gone to sleep, Emuria had searched her room while Harlow lay on the mattress, eyes closed, trying to recall the faces of anyone she’d called friend before waking up on a strange planet.
Emuria’s head lowered in shame. “I did.” As if an afterthought, she looked up, adding, “But I swear I checked it top to bottom. Under the bed and all. They usually try to burrow into the mattresses, but there were no rips or anything, I swear.”
Koen rushed to the bed, grabbed the mattress, and tossed it against the wall. There, at the bottom of the mattress, a wad of green, foamy material poked out.
Emuria gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth.
Koen looked from Harlow to Rasimus, his jaw tight. Rasimus clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Carelessness to that degree means losing your position here at best, a death sentence at worst.”
Harlow dove in front of Emuria, hiding the smaller girl behind her back. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. I’m fine. From now on, one of you assholes can come double-check my room since you’re so worried about it.”
A small sob sounded at her back. “He’s right,” Emuria whispered. “You could have been hurt. Or worse…”
Harlow’s lips parted. In the short time they’d gotten to know each other, she hadn’t thought to mention that she was immortal. A ripple of sadness followed that realization. Emuria would grow old and die, and Harlow would watch it happen.
Jezzebelle shifted her weight from one foot to the other, staring at the stone with a blank expression.
“Why not just settle for twenty lashes?” Viktor drawled. With his eyes still shut he’d looked to be asleep, or at the very least, disinterested in being there to begin with.
A whimper came from Emuria, at the same time a vicious sound tore from Harlow’s throat. “Get the fuck out, all of you! She’s a person, not your slave.”
Rasimus watched her, assessing. “She must be dismissed, pet. Failure to perform the simplest of duties is a violation of her employment.”
“I. Don’t. Care.”
It was clear from the way his fists tightened and the vein on the edge of his forehead throbbed that he was not used to someone so violently disagreeing with him. “Get out before I turn all of your asses into toads.”
She had no idea if that was even possible, especially when she couldn’t feel any of the magic adamantly taught to her by Rex.
Who, nevertheless, levelled his glare on Jezzebelle and the figure peering out from around Harlow. “Clean this up,” he demanded.
Both girls nodded, Emuria muttering, “Yes, thank you. So gracious. Thank you.”
Harlow rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest to watch all five guys march out of her room. Rex sent her a reassuring smile over his shoulder right before the door slid shut, leaving her alone with the two women.
She released a sigh before grabbing Emuria and wrapping her in a hug. Over her friend’s shoulder she caught Jezzebelle’s gaze, honey-colored eyes filled with relief and something else she couldn’t quite place.
The girl turned away, dropping to her knees and starting to roll up the ruined rug before Emuria bent to help. Harlow let the two of them clear it out but set to scrubbing the floor herself. It wasn’t like she’d be able to go back to sleep anyway. Each time she glanced at the mattress still propped against the wall, she shivered.
While she scrubbed—the bluish blood staining the porous stone—she wondered if she’d be able to sleep again.
HARLOW
She threw the filthy cloth onto the bathroom floor, only for a little door to open and reveal a mechanical arm that grabbed the rag before the flap
slid shut soundlessly.
Harlow shook her head. “Fuck, I need coffee.” Yawning, she strode through her bedroom and paused at the door to scan her thumb. When the door slid open, she ignored the two men standing guard on either side of the doorway. They trailed behind her but didn’t make any effort to stop her.
She passed a few servants carrying various goods in their arms. They cast nervous glances to the men behind her and scurried away with their heads down, ignoring her altogether. Had word spread about Emuria nearly losing her job? Harlow sighed. Great, now everyone is going to hate me.
But she didn’t stop. She’d get coffee and lose the two assholes that stalked her like she was a walking hazard. Now that she had a reason to be out, she planned to use it to her advantage. She’d scour every inch of the castle until she found something, anything, that she could use to help her figure out what was going on.
Emuria had shown her the kitchen once and Harlow attempted to retrace her steps. She took the staircase up to the main level, welcoming the light that spilled across the floor, casting dazzling refractions on the walls. The vines and roots seemed to bask in the light, twitching every so often. Most of the blossoms had closed into tight buds, and she missed their vibrant colors that matched the glittering gems coursing through the stone.
Full well knowing it wasn’t the kitchen, she tried the first door she came to, and surprisingly, it gave way.
Inside were brooms, dusters, cloths, and linens. A supply closet. She huffed, and low chuckles reverberated through the hall, barely audible. Scowling, she closed the door and carried on the rest of the way through the labyrinth of twists and turns. The corridors became narrower, the floor turning back to plain grey stone. Parts of the walls had gaping holes; one of them was patched over with thick, silky web. After the night she had, she didn’t want to see what the spider that made it looked like. Assuming it was a spider and not a bloodsucking leech or something.
When she entered the bustling kitchen, she spied Brevaria whisking something in a large bowl and barking orders to a young boy who looked like he was folding egg whites. Though, in all the time she’d been…wherever she was, she’d never had eggs.
“Miss Harlow!” The chef beamed at her, and Harlow returned the gesture. Setting her bowl onto the glistening countertops, Brevaria rushed over to embrace Harlow. When they broke away, Brevaria said, “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” Harlow nodded eagerly and Brevaria laughed before shuffling away to fix her a cup of the ridiculously strong brew.
Harlow felt the two bodies that had followed her enter behind her, one of them stopping so close to her back she could feel his heat.
“You are going to tell her that’s not really coffee, right?” Xalicur said in a laughing voice.
Brevaria’s smile turned wooden. She looked up, holding a spoonful of granules that certainly looked like coffee. “It contains a stimulant much like what she calls caffeine. That is the main reason for the preference, and collux root has a very similar taste once sweetened.”
Harlow’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? That’s not coffee?”
Kel chuckled, leaning against the countertop across from her. “Does it matter? We know you’re still going to drink it.”
She lifted her chin. “Of course I am. Whatever it is, it’s delicious. Besides, I’m exhausted.”
Brevaria smirked at Xalicur, the creases at the corners of her eyes deepening, before dumping the contents into the mug. After filling it with hot water that Harlow could have sworn was a faint red color, the woman stirred in a bit of cream. Or, at least, Harlow hoped it was cream. The past few hours, however, were weird enough. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Handing the mug to her, Brevaria said, “I heard about the qauitocent. What a fright you must have had.”
Harlow blew gently on the steaming beverage. The warm mug offered a piece of comfort she hadn’t known she was needing. She propped a hip against the countertop, her shoulders sagging. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Waking up from a nightmare only to find a different sort of nightmare right above your head is pretty much the worst possible way to wake up.”
“Awsk.” Brevaria chuckled sympathetically while patting Harlow’s shoulder. “You never forget encounters with beasts like qauitocent. Truth is most people never see ’em. They’re not common.” Her brow furrowed. “Matter o’fact, they prefer the barren mountains. They blend in, you see. And they catch more sun there.”
“That’s what Geoff said after the fact,” Xalicur confirmed.
Kel snorted. “And to think, spiders, snakes, and scorpions were the worst creatures in my life at one point.”
Harlow shuddered. “Okay, that’s enough positivity from the two of you. Go away and let me drink my not-coffee in peace.”
Kel winked before heading out, but Xalicur appeared to be lost in thought. Harlow cleared her throat and his attention snapped to her. She gestured toward the door, and without another word, he strode out too, at last leaving her alone, though she could feel that they hadn’t gone far.
Brevaria let out a long breath. “Hungry?” she asked.
Harlow nodded, even though her stomach turned sour at the mention of the giant centipede creature. A shiver ran up her spine again, and she took a deep swallow to ease the creepy feeling that had settled over her once again.
A while later, with a full belly and finally feeling a little tougher than she had before, she hugged Brevaria and thanked her for the meal. With a fourth full cup of collux root, she tiptoed out of the kitchen, peering both directions to find Kel and Xalicur. Miraculously, however, the corridor was empty.
Starting back, she darted up the first staircase she found. It was dark, and the steps seemed to go on forever. She had a feeling that if she were a normal person—whatever that meant—her legs would be burning from the sheer amount of stairs she’d climbed. Shouldn’t her lungs ache too while she panted for breath?
Like phantom pangs, she recalled both things so vividly it made her halt. She leaned against the cool stone wall, her hand on her chest. The memory dissipated, leaving her body tight, like a coiled spring.
She didn’t feel winded or sore. In fact, she felt like she could sprint a thousand miles and only the freedom of air moving over her face would satisfy the sudden craving. Looking up the stairs, she smiled before throwing back the mug, draining the remaining contents.
Then she shot forward, letting the unnatural strength and speed of her body carry her so fast she passed several doors.
But she didn’t stop. Not until a wide black door with braided vines hanging from the top had her screeching to a halt. Her feet clumsily tried to find purchase on the steps, and she stumbled. With a shriek, her hands went out, slapping the cold metal door hard. The green and golden vines twitched at her close proximity, and suddenly she wondered what would have happened if her palms had impacted only an inch to each side, where the vines lay like slumbering serpents. Better her hands than her face, she reasoned, when the stinging in them registered.
She took stock of any other pain in her body. But she felt great. Really great.
She laughed then clapped a hand over her mouth. Idiot, she scolded herself.
Straightening, Harlow grasped the dull knob, watching wearily the living cords with tiny white buds protruding on delicate, curling stems. They shifted again, and she was sure she heard a hiss. But they didn’t rear up like a cobra.
Slowly, she turned the knob, expecting to feel resistance. Yet the subtle click reached her ears only a moment before the door swung open under her gentle weight. Harlow’s eyes went wide as it creaked, giving way to an open, circular space.
Stepping into the dark room, she forced her eyes to adjust, though a cylinder that coiled around the ceiling gave a glow. A sliver of light peered between the shut curtains to her right. In the middle of the room sat a massive bed, the deep crimson satin sheets immaculate. To her left was a large desk and leather chair. A decanter of dark liquid sa
t atop a stack of papers, but there was no glass. She walked closer to it, freezing when she felt the crunch of something shatter beneath her foot.
Harlow lifted her foot, frowning at the tiny, jagged shards of glass left. With a glance back at the door, she listened for any sounds of pursuit. When there was nothing but the frantic pounding of her heart, she stepped over the broken glass and came to stand beside the desk. A square mirror framed with gold carvings of roses and thorny vines lay on one end. Unable to stop herself, she trailed a finger over the intricate detailing. The surface of the mirror shimmered, turning an opaque pearlescent color. Harlow withdrew her hand like she’d been zapped, her breath frozen in her lungs.
Like fog melting away under the heat of the sun, the shimmery white dissipated, leaving the ordinary reflection of the ceiling above her. Harlow swallowed hard, returning to the papers beneath the stopped decanter of alcohol. Gingerly she picked up the large, heavy crystal container and moved it to the side, half expecting it to start talking or dancing.
When nothing out of the ordinary occurred, she let slip a sigh of relief and focused on the image beneath. Her heart stopped at the subject of the photograph.
Her.
And Rasimus.
More specifically him pinning her to the wall, his mouth on her neck, hand beneath her skirt, and her eyes closed in ecstasy.
She picked it up, studying it.
Her eyes fell to the stack below, finding yet another image. It was of her with her legs wrapped around a man’s waist. It took only a moment to discern the form based on her memory of the event: Rex.
She reached for the next photograph, turned upside down.
“Well, well, well, who knew we had such a naughty little minx in our midst,” Kel’s sensual, mocking voice said from the entrance.
Chained to Darkness Page 12
