Crowned A Traitor: A Hellish Fairytale

by Kate Callaghan

  “Come with me,” she looked up at him. Frendall closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “You aren’t your mother, you don’t have to serve him, we can start over.”

  “You could change this place,” Frendall said, and she felt the sting of his words. “Accept your place here, take over. Do things the way you want them done.” Her arms dropped from his waist.

  “Somethings can’t be saved. The Higher Demons hold too much power over the Lesser Demons, and there is no balance of power because Father disappears every chance he gets. Once I’m gone, the council can take my place if my Father wishes to step down.”

  Frendall held his finger to his lips as voices carried into the kitchen from the hall. “Go to your room, stay the night. If you leave now, it will raise more questions.”

  Klara slipped up the back stairwell as the Doomed came in with their trays piled high with empty plates and crystal goblets.

  “Why is the King’s food out?” Terrified voices followed her as she tiptoed up the staircase. The Doomed quarters were empty thanks to the banquet, so Klara slipped through to the second floor undetected. Two Guards passed in their suits as she opened her bedroom door. They paused and bowed for a moment waiting for her to leave first.

  The plush mattress dipped as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She touched her lips, and Frendall’s reflection appeared beside her. Get out of my head. When she looked again, he was gone.

  An uprising is coming, Klara had sensed the calculating minds at the banquet table. Grabbing one of her pillows, she rolled back and clutched it over her face. Frendall’s words of warning filled her mind only to be corrupted by Abadan’s scheming smile. There is no saving Hell or Malum. The machine works too well for too many.

  “Damn him,” she roared into the pillow. Klara felt the rush of her heart and took a few deep breaths as she slipped her hand inside her t-shirt. The ridges of her scarred chest made her wince. The scar will disappear soon and so will I, she thought to herself, kicking off her boots. Klara snubbed out the candles with her fingers and stared out to the never-setting sun behind the blood moon. Sleep came easy, and Klara needed all the rest she could get.

  ◆◆◆

  “Going somewhere, Heiress?” A Guard asked as Klara opened her bedroom door. She saw the two stripes on his cheek. He was a Captain. Klara smiled, and the Captain exposed his sharpened teeth. He must be one of Mila’s Guards. Private Guards often took on the characteristics of their leader to gain favour—Mila had her lethal smile and Abadan’s Crimson Guard dressed after her fiery red hair.

  “I’m sure the King’s training rooms are in order if I’m permitted?” The Captain eyed her black jeans and long sleeve grey t-shirt.

  “I will send for the right attire,” the Captain snapped his fingers, and another guard promptly stepped forward. “No need, I can fight in any clothing. I doubt the enemy will let me change first.”

  The Captain’s yellow eyes bore into Klara, but she refused to back down.

  “Am I to be confined to my room?”

  “The King will need to be informed of your movements,” he said, allowing her to pass. “As protocol dictates,” Klara finished for the Captain and closed her bedroom door behind her.

  Moving down the hall, she could see the reflection of two black suits following her in the long mirror at the end of the corridor. Klara smirked at their boldness. Klara hesitated at one of the mirrors between two portraits and adjusted her wig. The Guards stopped outside another room, but Klara could feel their eyes on her.

  “Catch me if you can.”

  The Guards’ yellow eyes went wide as she hopped through the mirror before they could stop her. Idiots.

  It wasn’t just the portraits that hid passageways, but most Guards weren’t privy to such delicate information.

  “Shit,” Klara grumbled as she landed on the sharp gravel path. The stones dug into her palms, and she picked herself up. She scanned the garden for others as she dusted off her jeans.

  Rose bushes blooming with red, black and the rarest white rose littered her Father’s favourite hideaway. “This place certainly hasn’t changed,” Klara said, stepping onto the charred grass. Life wasn’t sustainable in Hell, so her Father’s touch created the thriving buds.

  Klara walked the gardens surrounding the Manor, admiring the thick dewdrops falling from the red roses. She could smell the hint of metal in the air as a soul had recently been sacrificed for each petal, thorn and stem. The Doomed feed the roses with their life source. Without the souls, the roses would wither and die in the scorching climate. She plucked a white rose from its grey stem, admiring its purity. The bewitched seeds forced the roses to bloom but it was the nourishment of a sacrifice that maintained them—the cost of magic.

  “We used to play hide and seek in these gardens,” Frendall said, approaching from behind the fountain of Medusa.

  “I hardly remember,” she said, not wanting a repeat of last night’s argument. However, Klara needed to know whether he would keep her secret or not. Since her Father hadn’t been at her door this morning with the executioner, Frendall hadn’t had a change of heart during the night.

  Frendall stepped through the water cascading from the snakes of the Goddess’ hair only to step out onto the dead grass. A soft white petal crumbled in her hand as she closed her fist around it. A faint prick caused her to wince as the crushed rose bit her in defence. The small prick of blood bubbled and then dropped to the dead earth revealing healed skin beneath. Least I know the heart is settling.

  “What do you think the gardens of Kalos look like?” Klara asked, and Frendall took a deep breath. Klara pictured vibrant green grass and the scent of thriving flowers. “I thought you would be gone by now,” Frendall said, changing the subject.

  “You told me to stay,” Klara dropped the flower to the charred grass. They watched as the dead lengths of grass wrapped around the crushed petals and sunk back into the soil, hungry for any nourishment. “Captain Darley told me you gave his Guards the slip,” Frendall followed at her back as she walked through the hedges.

  “I wanted to be alone,” she said facing him, and he stumbled a little, the unease of his face made her smile.

  “You’re still terrible at hiding. This was the first place I looked.”

  “If I had wanted to hide, you wouldn’t have found me.”

  Klara circled the fountain dipping her hand into the clear waters to feel nothing. The cold water was a mirage to torture the quenched Doomed sentenced to serve in Hell’s garden. “Did you have to give the Captain a hard time? He has his orders,” Frendall said with his hand in his tailored trouser pocket.

  “The Captain sent you? How humiliating for him. Father’s precious Guards are still a pain in my ass,” Klara smiled, walking around the rose bush that separated them.

  “Your safety is to be maintained. There are dozens of guests at the Manor and very few your natural allies,” Frendall signed relaxing his shoulders.

  “And yet you still expect me to devote my life to this delightful place. Don’t need to worry about me much longer,’ she said, thinking of their last conversation.

  Klara sat on the marble ledge of the fountain staring up at the statue of Medusa. A Goddess forced to live as a beast because of her beauty. Frendall knelt in front of Klara, and she leaned back as his face sat inches from hers.

  “In Kalos, you will be nothing and forced to hide forever. Forget the border and come home. I will give you my life.” He gripped her hands as they rested on her thighs. “No one will harm you.”

  Klara saw the sincerity in his dark eyes. “I don’t need protecting. You think I’m running for my life? I could slaughter them all and not lose a wink of sleep,” Klara said, and his grip loosened. After the Ghouls, Klara thought she wouldn’t have been able to close her eyes without seeing them. Instead, she had slept peacefully.

  “But I don’t want a life of death and cruelty.”

  “You’re being…” Frendall stop
ped himself.

  “Selfish? Call me my Father’s daughter. I want to lay on the fields of Kalos and never hear the screams of Hell again or walk the paths of Malum and see starving children.” Klara stopped, and they both shot to their feet as they heard the snap of a branch.

  “Show yourself,” Klara commanded with the force of her new heart. A Hound appeared from behind a rose bush. Her chest fell, and the Hound submitted laying on the grass and Klara wondered where the second was lurking. Frendall raked a hand through his hair and wrapped his arms around her. Klara tried to pull away, but the more she pushed, the tighter he grasped.

  “Think of what they would do to us if they saw us together,” Klara said, and Frendall stilled. “I don’t want to let you go,” Frendall said, and Klara welled up.

  “Maybe in the next life,” she said, freeing herself from him. Klara knew what he felt for her would only be corrupted over time. The paranoia, the plots and whispers, it got to everyone in the end. Hell would twist them up so bad they wouldn’t recognize who they once were, and Klara didn’t want that.

  “Hell corrupts everything, me not being here is probably what has kept you alive. If Abadan questions your loyalties to Lucifer or her, do you think she would let you live happily ever after?”

  Frendall’s head hung low, and she messed up his perfectly combed hair. “Let me help you, if you fear the Queens, we can go to the King.”

  “I’m not afraid, Frendall. I’m tired. I want to live without carrying a weapon or checking food for poison.” His expression remained blank, and she bit her lip, almost drawing blood. “Let’s leave things as they were before I came back yesterday.”

  “I’ll never change your mind, will I.

  “No.” Klara thought the silence between them would stop her new heart.

  “When that call comes, the King will send me after you. To Hunt you.” Frendall was gone, and now the Commander was talking.

  “I know the consequences of my actions. Once I leave, the Queens will raise the alarm. Just think with me out of the way, you could take over. I see how my Father looks at you.” She was trying to make light of the subject, but Frendall looked horrified.

  “If I catch you,” Frendall cut himself off.

  “You won’t.” An arrogant smile appeared, and she knew she had just challenged him. “Nobody knows what the future holds, maybe you will get tired of the bowing and scraping and join me.”

  Klara imagined them both surrounded by colour and life. She closed the distance between them and rose on her tiptoes. The stunned look in his eyes made it worth it. She gently kissed him, knowing if she saw him again, it would end in spilt blood.

  Frendall crushed his lips to hers, allowing her to see through his mind. A film of them running through the Maze of Hell, a collection of Doomed begging them to return to their chambers and a chorus of screams and laughter as they jumped through portraits.

  “Tell dad I said goodbye.” Klara broke away from him. “What do I tell him? He will wonder why you left without saying goodbye.” She felt his Commanders mark under her fingers and reminded herself where his loyalties truly lie.

  “Tell him the border required my immediate attention, that I wanted to get started right away. It’s not exactly a lie.” Klara saw the Hound’s ears perk up in the corner of her eye.

  “I’ll give you time, but once that order comes,” Frendall said, and she knew he meant it. Her only advantage was his lack of knowledge of Malum.

  “Thanks for the head start,” she smiled, and Frendall released her hand.

  “Catch you later,” Frendall smirked, and she saluted disappearing behind a row of hedges as she left him by the fountain. At the steps of the Manor, she heard the clicking of claws behind her and the Hound stilled as she saw the white-tipped ears.

  “You need to stay with Frendall,” Klara ordered, and the hound cowered bustling its head into her legs. She wrapped her arms around her vicious pet, “I’ll see you soon,” she said, rubbing its ears and the Hound whined before running back to the gardens as Frendall’s sharp whistle called.

  ◆◆◆

  Lucifer’s portrait at the end of the hall sat proudly beside Henry the Eighth. “I won’t become you,” Klara said to her Father’s accusing eyes.

  “Find her!” Captain Darley’s orders echoed off the high ceiling, and Klara made a run for it.

  Klara pulled her axe from the secret compartment of her Father’s desk. Klara thanked him for his carelessness.

  Scouring the bookshelf, she found her first edition of Alice and Wonderland, one of their shared favourites. She remembered the rare moments when her Father would read her a chapter. What she loved most was her Father’s stories, claiming he had sent Lewis Carroll down a rabbit hole of his own.

  Klara flipped through the pages, picturing every detail of her room back in Malum. The simple bed and dull decor that she had never bothered to make her home. The walls of her Father’s shelved office started to wobble as she was pulled through the cursed pages.

  Nausea racked her body as Klara landed on her bedroom floor in Malum. Soft landings and portaling never went hand in hand. Her new heart throbbed under the pressure of the trip, and she looked at the pink scar seeing that it had faded to a faint silver.

  Impromptu portaling might not have been the best idea. I need to get out of here before the Queens notice I’m back.

  She rubbed her bare scalp, feeling the prickles of growth under her fingertips. Somehow, she had lost her wig on the journey. Klara took a few deep breaths, and the sparkles disappeared from her vision as she noticed the night had already passed. Klara went to grab her emergency bag when she heard a cluster of voices.

  “The Ogres picked up an outside energy. We have an intruder in the sky rooms.”

  She quickly shoved her bag into the bottom of her wardrobe before it could be noticed.

  “An intruder, don’t be ridiculous?” Eve opened the door just as Klara shut the wardrobe doors. Here comes Mommy Dearest.

  An Ogre and one of Abadan’s private Guard in Crimson armour stood behind Eve with their baton and sword at the ready. Eve’s thin eyebrows scrunched up as she stared at her ward. “Klara? What are you doing here?” Eve asked, and Klara embraced Eve’s petite frame.

  Klara’s mind jumped to Mila passed out on the marble floor in Hell, defeated and humiliated. She wondered how Eve would take the news when it reached her. Eve would probably be disappointed her daughter had used her fists instead of magic. Eve never liked to partake in physical activities unless it involved her greenhouse.

  “I couldn’t stay too long down there. The heat is stifling.”

  “Why are you back so soon?” Eve asked staring at Klara’s bare scalp without raising an eyebrow. “I see the King put you in your place.”

  “Yes, punishment duly noted.”

  “Well, we had no announcement of your arrival, and it’s almost been a week,” Eve scoffed, and the Ogre and Guard put away their weapons. Better late than never

  “We would have arranged a gathering for you,” Eve sounded deflated, clearly robbed of an excuse to gossip and drink her fill. After the banquet, Klara had had enough gatherings for a while.

  “Dad couldn’t stand the sight of me, so he gave me a heart and a new mission,” Klara said, watching the eyes of the Crimson Guard roll over her body. The Guard isn’t usually permitted within the Castle. Abadan must have been feeling extra paranoid while I was away.

  “A new mission?” Eve’s eyes went wide. “Was there an old mission?”

  “To stay here and rot.” There was an awful silence. “Well, your hair can be removed, but I see your sense of humour can’t. Why don’t you tell us all about your suffering at breakfast?”

  Breakfast. Klara hadn’t noticed the sun threatening her heels as it poured in through the archway. Klara was starving, and she had forgotten time ran differently on the assorted planes. “Lilith and Abadan will want to hear all about this mission of yours,” Eve said before ordering her to change.


  “I’ll leave you to it but be quick, don’t like to keep the others waiting,” Eve smiled thinly and closed the door.

  ~8~

  The Crimson Guard are in the Castle. I’m screwed, Abadan must be planning something. Klara paced back and forth, if there was one, there would be more. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her head between her knees. The Crimson Guards’ movements were usually kept busy in the Forest following whatever godforsaken orders Abadan had issued. I’ll have to leave while they sleep and pray Frendall will hold his tongue. Time moved slowly in Hell that alone would buy her time. The sun cut through her room before disappearing behind the dark clouds. She imagined the sun would always shine in Kalos. Most of the Creatures in Malum preferred nocturnal life.

  After a quick shower, Klara changed into her grey smock dress and boots. She strapped a blade to her outer thigh, just in case the Queens weren’t in the mood to play nice. She couldn’t exactly bring her axe to breakfast. Klara was surprised to see one of the Ogres remained at her door. Although she was pleased that it wasn’t the Crimson guard with the creeping eyes.

  “My own escort, how concerned the Queens must be,” she said, and the Ogre huffed exposing his thick fangs.

  The Ogre walked ahead with his baton on his shoulder, leaving her to follow behind. Goosebumps rose on her arms as her body adjusted to Malum’s cold climate. They only had the dim candlelight lighting the gawking portraits to support their journey. Klara stilled as she saw the cluster of Crimson Guards guarding each door and portrait on the main floor.

  Had there been an attack since I left? For the first time, she prayed it was an attack and not the Queens suspecting her early return.

  The Ogre stopped at the archway to the dining hall. “Don’t want to join us?” Klara raised an eyebrow, and the Ogre snorted. Even he isn’t that stupid.

  “You don’t by any chance want to tell me why there is an increased number of Guards?”

  The Ogre shook his head. “Thought not,” she slapped his shoulder, and a low growl escaped his thick green lips. “Be careful Heiress,” he said in a hushed voice and Klara couldn’t believe her ears. It wasn’t a threat, but a warning.