Monstrous (32 page)

Ren pulls an apple from his pack and tosses it back and forth between his hands. “I have only heard the rumors. Some say Ensel woke the beast from its thousand-year hibernation. Others say he stole something from it, and the beast wants it back. I don't think anyone really knows for certain. It wasn't terrorizing the city in my grandfather's day, that's for sure. But whatever happened, it's here now.”

“And we have to get Bryre's girls away from it.” I pull my cloak closer to fend off the damp chill that permeates the catacombs. It helps only a little.

“So what is this idea of yours?” Ren asks. “How do you propose we get them out?”

I grimace. I am not looking forward to this, but without knowing the layout of the palace ahead of time I believe it is our best shot.

“They need a meal for their monster. So we bring them one.”

Ren tightens his hold on the leash around my neck. My choker now acts as a makeshift collar. It has lost a measure of its value now that I know it was only a trifle Barnabas bought for my mother, not something she ever actually wore. But it keeps my bolts hidden and that is what matters now. Ren pulls harder and I stumble forward as we walk up the cracked steps of the castle. He enjoys this a little more than he should. Though I can't blame him. If I had Darrell on a leash like this, I wouldn't be gentle either.

We reach the gates and Ren marches right up to the burly guard posted out front. The murmurs of several other men inside the nearby guardhouse reach my ears. Ren doesn't even flinch as the man towers over him and scowls.

“What do you want, boy?” The man jerks his head in my direction. “Who's she?”

“An offering for the beast. I'm here to deliver it. Personally.”

The guard studies us, his expression growing more dubious by the second. “What do you want in return for the girl?”

“I'll discuss that with the king.” Ren's hard face doesn't budge an inch.

The guard grunts and takes a step closer to Ren until
they're toe to toe. He's at least a full head taller. “Really?” A handful of guards wander out of the guardhouse behind him. Each one is just as big and mean looking as the first. Their uniforms are a dingy gray, stained with what I suspect is ale and the remnants of suppers past.

Ren holds his ground. If I wasn't supposed to be his captive—and he didn't hate me so much—I'd hug him. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the ground.

“Yes.” Ren stands stock still. Not a single muscle twitches. I hold my breath.

The guard laughs, and those behind him join in. “You're nuts. The king'll love you.” He claps Ren on the back, then opens the gate. “Go on in, boy. Hope you make it out again.”

Ren strides through the gate, yanking me after him. I stumble, but recover, taking care not to let my wings or tail poke out from beneath my cloak. My neck is sore. I hadn't anticipated Ren would take his role so far.

We pad up the cold stone walkway toward the palace. The low rumble of many voices thrums from inside the walls of the building, but only we and the guards remain outside. It's a gray monstrosity, set on a cliff overlooking a vast ocean.

I can't fathom being engulfed in all that water and depth. Hopefully, I'll never have to. My one excursion into the river was more than enough for me. And I do not have Batu here to drag me out this time.

My heart trembles. I hope he is far from Bryre now, and far from the wizard. I need my dragon brother to be safe.

Unlike Bryre's palace, Belladoma's has no garden, no exquisite hedges. Pools of rainwater and marsh dot the overgrown grassy landscape leading to the palace doors. The occasional naked tree sticks out of the ground. No one loves this place. It looks as though it has been flooded with salty seawater again and again. Not much will grow here, not without an infusion of fresh water and loam. How can people live here? If this palace, on the highest ground in the city, has been flooded enough to inflict this level of damage, how much worse must it be for the commoners? I shudder. Small wonder they so readily turn a blind eye to what Ensel does to some other city's girls.

The building is tall and imposing, but the opposite of Bryre in every other way. My home city's palace has a marble facade and interior; Belladoma's is a gray, rotting limestone that seems to shift and shudder in the wind. Everything about Belladoma spells cold. Bleak. Lonely. Death.

Horror crawls over me like a hundred tiny spiders. This unfeeling place, with its wretched citizens and monster lurking in the deep, is where I sent Bryre's girls.

Ren pushes me up the stairs. Are the guards watching anymore? I doubt it. My heart sinks even further. The damage I've done to our friendship is irreparable, even if we do rescue the girls. It makes no difference who I was in the past.

What I've done in this life is all that matters.

I wish my sister's name and face could evoke the same possessive emotions in me that they do in Ren. He knows Delia, cares for her in a way I can't yet. Only if all my stolen
memories can be found. They are beginning to come back, but not fast enough. I believe the blond child I saw once may be her, but thus far that is the sole appearance she has made in my visions.

Another guard waits at the front door and he eyes us with amusement. This one is scrawny compared to the guards at the gate, but he is still larger than Ren and me put together.

“I'm bringing her to the king for the Sonzeeki,” Ren says with a gruff tone that makes me shiver. Even worse is the guard's grin as he nods.

He opens the door. “The throne room is straight down the hall.” The guard's eyes burn into my back as Ren marches me down the corridor. Why do these guards aid this evil king? There is no wizard here to keep them in thrall. The castle is overflowing with evil hearts.

The inside is just as bleak as the grounds. Gray stone and not much else. That is, until we get to the section of the palace where the king lives.

At least, I assume it is where he lives, because it's the only part that resembles a home. These walls have rich tapestries with gold threads and suits of armor in every corner. Vases on fancy tables and statues made of exotic marble line the long hall. The silver sconces shine brighter. People in fine clothing mingle, and drably clothed servants scuttle out of their way. The courtiers eye us with curiosity, and I can sense them shadowing us down the hall. When the room at the end comes into view, my breath halts.

This is what I imagine Bryre once looked like. When
the king and queen and Delia and the once-me still lived there. When it was not being torn apart by a ruthless plant. When I was not yet a monster.

Gold and silver fill the view through the half-open door. The parquet floor gleams a rich mahogany. Brightly colored silk skirts sweep across it.

Only when Ren tugs on my leash do I realize I've stopped to stare.

“It's beautiful,” I whisper. Ren just glares ahead. A woman titters behind us, and other voices join in. My cheeks burn, and I remind myself to stay silent.

We reach the edge of the entrance but remain in the shadows. I can't help marveling at the splendor here and the squalor outside this hall. It's as though the king has built up just enough for himself—and his courtiers—and can't be bothered with what lies outside his doors.

“You must want an audience with His Majesty, yes?” says an imposing man who materializes in front of us. He's dressed in a white silk tunic edged with gold brocade and a fine matching cloak. It sets off his black hair—and the sword at his hip.

“We do,” Ren says, his hold on my lead tightening.

The man smiles, but no mirth lies behind it. Something in his eyes and manner feels predatory, setting my instincts on edge. “Then come with me.”

Ren plunges after the man into the ballroom and the multicolored throng. I follow before he can yank my leash again. The courtiers from the hallway enter as well, making our procession feel formal. The crowd hushes and parts.
Whispers swirl around us like fog. The dance ceases and the musicians set aside their instruments. A portly man on the black marble throne studies us with a displeased expression.

We interrupted his entertainment. My heart rises into my throat as we march closer. We walk only yards, but it feels like miles. I wilt under the king's withering stare, but Ren seems unaffected.

The man in white halts in front of the throne. The king is an odd-looking man. All nose and ears and pasty jowls.

“Your Majesty,” the man says, bowing low. “These children wish an audience with you.” The hushed crowd is broken by laughter that's just as quickly snuffed out by a sharp glance from the king.

“Who the devil are you, boy?” The king sneers at Ren and the courtiers titter.

“My name is Rendall.”

The king grunts, then gestures at me with increasing annoyance. “Who is this?”

“An offering. For the Sonzeeki.”

I shudder involuntarily as the king strokes his chin, considering Ren's offer. My skin grows cold and clammy, and I send reminders to my claws to remain in place. Any of my nonhuman parts would reveal me to the king in the worst possible way.

He'd know I'm a monster. No doubt, a man like him would have unpleasant uses for me.

“Where did you find this one?” His eyes are cold, beady little things. I can't keep the defiance out of my face.

“Bryre,” says Ren. A hush falls over the room.

“Really?” The king's eyes are alight with keen interest. “Are you certain?”

Ren snorts. “Of course. I took her from the city myself a few days ago.”

“What is it you ask in return?” Ensel's eyes narrow.

Ren swallows. The first hint of nervousness. I don't understand. We practiced what he'd say many times over the course of the day spent in the tunnels.

“A trade. For another of the girls you have captive.”

My eyes widen. This is not what we planned. He was supposed to say one hundred gold coins so he could buy us bigger transport and supplies while I worked on getting the girls out unseen.

The pit of my stomach sours. Ren only wants to save Delia. And he definitely doesn't care about what happens to me.

He is not acting anymore. He really will trade me for my human sister. Panic slices through my chest on the knife of Ren's betrayal.

The king gestures to a lackey in a gray tunic. He disappears down a hallway behind the throne.

“One of my girls, eh?” The king laughs and it sets my nerves on edge. “You drive a hard bargain, but I'll consider it.”

The girls file into the room. There are so many. Did I really take them all?

When Delia walks in, Ren's face lights up.

“Which girl do you want?” Ensel asks with a touch of amusement. I'd like to strangle it out of him. “You must be sweet on one of them, yes?”

Ren pretends to consider each for a few minutes, walking up and down the line as though he were picking a dance partner, not the girl whose life he's about to save.

“Her.” He points at Delia. She doesn't glance up, but a deep blush creeps up the side of her neck and ears. She knows better than to reveal she recognizes him. My heart breaks for her. How awful has her life been here?

“An excellent choice.” The king laughs again, with an edge that sets off warning bells in my brain. “Albin?”

He waves a hand, and the man in the white tunic shoves Ren to the ground. Ren still holds my lead and I tumble after him. The gray-clad lackey hustles the girls away as Ensel grins.

“That's better. On the floor groveling where you belong. Did you really think I'd make a trade? Idiot. I always need more food for my pet. But thank you for choosing who will go over the cliff next. You can have a nice stay in our dungeon.”

The guards tie up my wrists and Ren's. The same lackey that ferried the girls returns and drags me down the hallway. My last glimpse of Ren is him being pulled, kicking and screaming, out of the grand hall down a dismal corridor.

Terror courses through my veins. We've failed before we've even begun.

The lackey brings me down a corridor behind the throne room. Then he turns down another until we reach a guarded room in the middle. He shoves me inside and bolts the door behind me.

I am in more trouble than I could have imagined. Ren was ready to trade me for my sister. He would have left all these girls here to die. How could he do that? That is not the Ren I grew to love. I cannot make sense of it, nor can I shake the expanding hollowness in my chest.

The room is an odd mix of squalor and finery, just like the rest of the castle. The walls and floor are stone, but the beds are covered by silk sheets and jewel-toned pillows.

One of the girls helps me up. She has the long dark curls I once tried to emulate. She stops and stares, her hands jerking back to her sides like she touched a burning coal.

She recognizes me. Panic surges in my chest.

She backs away with a confused expression, as I sit on an empty bed filled with straw. I draw my cloak closer. The girls, more than thirty of them, huddle on straw pallets like mine. A few of them chew on what I imagine is stale bread and cheese from a tarnished silver platter set on the floor. I single Delia out right away. She is with a group of several others who whisper, sending fearful glances at me. They know something is different about me. That I am unnatural. These girls don't trust me. They hate me.

Still, I must find a way to allay their fears and rescue them.

I've been fretting all day over how to free the girls. In every scenario I dream up, it all comes down to one major hurdle: getting them to trust me.

Not an easy challenge to overcome. Even if my poison does make them forget temporarily, my deeds have left an imprint on the girls. I'd bet the memories of several have
returned in full, judging by the looks they send my way.

These girls aren't likely to follow the one whose face is the last thing they saw before waking here.