These New Ashes- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

We stood before a small, discreet door hidden in the back of the palace kitchen. It was drab and dusty, a roughly hewn slab of wood patched over an archway. It could’ve easily been mistaken as a pantry. Strangely, there was no door handle.

Due to the curfew, there were no kitchen maids or servants bustling about. The King waved a few of his guards to the kitchen entrance to ensure our privacy. He stationed another two to the hallway before.

I’d never been one to follow rumors, but King Alistair’s paranoia seemed to ring true.

I stood to the side as they exchanged a quick progression of knocks with one another. So there were guards on the other side of the door as well. Interesting.

At last, the door opened, and I was whisked inside, my robes protecting me from a freezing draft of air. The remaining light behind me filtered in and showed my breaths as miniature clouds. I could barely make out a steep staircase leading into the depths a few feet away. Every ten feet or so, there was a faint orange glow. Probably dimmed torches to light the way.

King Alistair placed himself in front of me and motioned the two guards by this side of the door to lock it up behind us.

Then we were walking.

It was a meritless journey, nothing but darkness and suspicious skitters beside the walls. It was cold, and only got colder the deeper we went. We must’ve been below the dungeons by now, farther than I’d ever gone before.

A flutter of something, of excitement, perhaps, awakened in my chest, teasing a smile onto my lips. It was quickly smothered by serenity, and my smile faded. I pressed my lips together.

The dim torchlight revealed cottony spider webs clustered where corners met, and glistened off shiny insect eyes. A rat scurried around my feet, claws scratching across the stone floor, and into some unknown hole in the opposite wall.

I kept walking.

The King’s voice drifted up to me as we reached the end of the staircase. “Be who you are,” he said to me, a hint of warning in his voice.

I reached the ground and my boots splashed into a shallow puddle. How deep were we? The guards hurried to unlock another door, and the hinges gave a splintering creak as we pressed forward.

Light flooded my line of sight, and I squinted, footsteps faltering. My eyes, burning, eventually settled and adjusted. I was pushed through the door into a spacious gray room, met with quietly glaring eyes.

My cloak trailed on the floor as I was seated at a long oak table. It was decked out in porcelain plates filled with spiced meats, and golden goblets containing fancy wine. A large platter contained warm, buttered bread, and beside it a tiered cake. A golden chandelier hung, twisted elegantly and holding lit candles above me. Those small flames did nothing to ease the chill over my shoulders as I took in the three men the King was meeting with.

I recognized them all immediately as his younger brothers: Princes Blaine, Raoul, and Drey. I slowly shifted my gaze to the oldest of the three, Prince Blaine, who was said to be the most-likely to murder Alistair for the throne. He was tall and slender, in quite a contrast to the King. A tiny black moustache accompanied his greased-back hair. The townsfolk loved him, and he was said to ride his carriage through the poorest of towns, throwing handfuls of gold to those at his feet. The rumor was probably embellished, but that didn’t stop the people from groveling at his boots. He caught me watching and smiled, in a slimy, greedy way. I showed no reaction, not even the faintest glimmer of emotion.

I turned to the next brother, Prince Raoul, who more closely resembled Alistair than the others. Being round and ridiculously luxurious, he carried more rings on his fingers than what should’ve been physically possible. His red satin outfit gleamed with gold threads, blending in with the golden chains looped around his thick neck. His sleeves were puffy and he wiped his bald sweaty head with them nervously. His muddy brown eyes kept darting at me, in a mix of awe and pure terror. For entertainment, I gave him an easy smile. He gulped and looked away.

The last brother could have easily blended into crowds, with the way he was dressed. Prince Drey seemed to have embraced the fact that he was impossibly far from the throne and so dressed to be a normal subject. His thin black hair was pulled back into a small tail, and he was cleanly shaven. He wore common boots and a loose white top, covered with a tied brown vest, dingy with use. He sat still, and, calmly, he met my gaze, unwavering.

“I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your pet, brother,” he said coolly.

The vial from earlier fed my confidence, and I didn’t break his gaze, keeping my face impassive.

Alistair fidgeted in his seat and cleared his throat. “This is no-”

I interrupted him. “The pleasure was all mine,” I said, voice low. The three brothers jumped at my outright disrespect, but it only gave me more strength. No one could control me, not even the feared King Alistair.

Drey raised a thin eyebrow but said nothing.

I turned away from him and faced the King, who was seated opposite of me.

Alistair placed his hands on the table, a placating action, although I knew he was enjoying his brothers’ discomfort just as much as I was. “We have business to discuss tonight,” he announced as if not everyone already knew.

“Ah, yes,” Blaine said, “but not until I have been properly introduced to your flower.”

My stomach rolled briefly as I realized he was speaking of me. I gripped my knife. A threat was on the tip of my tongue when Alistair suddenly shot me a harsh look. The threat died, and I was calm, my grip relaxing.

“Many know the name Nyx,” Alistair said. Over the years of showing me off, he’d gotten pretty good with dramatics. He met his brothers’ gazes.

Raoul’s eyes widened. “Yes… yes, I know the name.” His voice was sure and steady, and he’d stopped looking over at me.

Blaine didn’t respond. He just glanced at me and frowned.

“The people in my city speak of a night demon by the name Nyx,” Drey said. “They tell their children of the demon’s horrors to make them obey.” He slid a haughty glance in my direction and I knew he’d figured it out.

Alistair leaned forward in his seat. “My people speak of a creature of shadow, a murderer, who cuts children to pieces and devours the flesh of those who wander out too late in the night,” he said. Wasting no time, he continued, “This creature sits before you now, and is mine to command.”

All eyes turned to me, and I straightened. I shifted my hood slightly, to shed light on my Mark. A sense of pride enveloped me as they shrank away from the sight. Even the King had winced a little.

Prince Raoul looked ill, several shades too pale in the faint light above us. “This… this girl,” he said slowly. “She is the one everyone fears?”

I glanced at Alistair.

“In my hands, she is capable of much more than anything a simple girl can do,” said the King. He looked smugly over each of them.

Blaine was frowning, disdain and doubt crowding his finely tuned features.

“What is it, brother?” Alistair asked.

“This is nothing but a sham, yes?” Blaine stood up from his seat, his chair scraping backward. He peered over at me curiously. “Alistair, you cannot simply manicure an orphan girl and claim she’s a valuable weapon.” He shook his head and walked over to me.

Anger ignited in my chest as he looked at me like the scum off his boot.

Blaine cracked an amused smile. “Underneath the glamor, she’s nothing but a street rat. Even more worthless than the dust under my horses’ hooves.”

My rage boiled over and I slid the knife out from under my sleeve, standing up. He was a good four inches taller than me, but I met his gaze, eyes flashing. Faster than a blink, my knife was pointed under his chin. He swallowed.

Teeth clenched, I stepped closer to him. My vial from earlier began taking its toll, and I was soon swimming in cool peace. My jaw relaxed, and I eased myself out of a fighting stance. I breathed slowly. “You make me laugh, sire,” I said smoothly. “How little you really know. How simple-minded.” I smiled coldly and stepped away, concealing my knife.

The guards around the table seemed to recover from their shock, shifting in their seats, eyeing me. They were loyal to the King and his brothers. The question was: Whose loyalty rang out the strongest?

I stayed standing as Blaine took his seat again, defeated for the time being. Alistair looked pleased, observing his brothers. Raoul was intently focused on slicing his roasted turkey, while Drey stared at the King, gaze numb.

They were silent for a long while, and I enjoyed every second of their awkward struggle. My plate of food stayed untouched, although spiced turkey was one of my own personal favorites, and I hadn’t had dinner anyway. I didn’t even consider drinking my wine, and thankfully the King left his goblet full as well. I wouldn’t deem it beneath these men to poison their own brother.

Drey finally couldn’t seem to take the silence anymore. “I want you to prove it,” he said abruptly. He looked to me, eyes wide and fierce. “Prove you’re more than just for show. More than just a pampered orphan.”

I blinked, taken back. What did he mean?

Alistair almost cringed, but smoothly recovered. “That is brilliant!” he exclaimed.

Raoul glanced up from his turkey, intrigued.

“Truly, you have always been the more intellectual one of the family, Drey,” said the King. He clasped his hands together joyfully. “Name a threat, brother.” He turned serious. “And my ‘pet’,” he said, quoting Drey on his earlier remark, “will have it removed by the end of this week.”

A chill darted down my back.

Drey looked thoughtful, a greedy smile teasing the corners of his lips. “Wonderful suggestion, My King,” he said. “Destroy the rebels, and I might just take your weapon seriously.”

Alistair nodded briskly. “It is done.”

My jaw dropped a little, and I took a step back, blinking at the men before me. The Serpents. The Riders. The Ebony Teeth. They wanted me to kill them all? The room began to sway.

Alistair and his brothers looked at me expectantly.

Peace. Regality. Obedience. “The deed will be done,” I heard myself say. Be who you really are. The Marked side of my face felt exposed. Murderer.

My head throbbed, the emotion combating the vial of peace. The medicine must have worn off. My hands were shaking in my sleeves, the one gripping my knife cold and sweaty. Shadows flickered. Something hot and wet dripped on my shoulder. I held out a hand, and down came a fat red drop of blood, searing my skin.

Heart thudding, I glanced up.

The chandelier was drenched in scarlet blood, bubbling and trickling along its edges. The dripping was in tune with my heartbeat. I trembled.

Alistair glanced at me and frowned. His shadow stretched and reached out at me, claws grabbing at the hem of my cloak. The King glanced at his guards and stood, subtly motioning them to contain me before I ruined everything.

Before I knew it, I was roughly rushed out of the room, surrounded by guards. I left bloody footprints in my wake, all the way back to my chambers, where I was locked up once again.