Page 44 of Of Night and Blood: Special Edition

The moment we walked through the doors, black smoke wrapped around me. Bellamy portaled us, ripping our bodies through space until we landed in a grassy field facing a haunting forest. The chill outside was magnified by the sheer horror that dripped off the trees as their branches swung in the breeze.

“You want to act like a foolish youngling? You want to run through the forest and attempt to escape? Then please, be my guest,” Bellamy said, his arms flinging up towards the tree line.

I wanted to be stubborn and march straight into the depths, but I knew I would never make it out of there alive. The demon seemed to be aware of my thoughts, flashing a triumphant smirk as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. I pictured smacking him.

“Obviously I would never go into the Forest of Tragedies, I am not an imbecile!” I yelled, not caring if I attracted the attention of a heinous beast if it meant getting Bellamy eaten.

On more than one occasion, he had acted as if I was incapable of rational thought. Yes, I was planning to sail through The Mist, but I was not doing it on a whim. I needed to go, the fae were counting on me. If I did not get home as swiftly as possible, then these demons, they would take over. They might even use me to do so.

I was still unsure of their plans for me, or for my realm, but whatever it was would not be good. My only obligation was to my subjects, and they needed me, now more than ever. I would give my life before I let them down. If Bellamy did not understand that, then he was not worthy of being called a prince.

“You would risk yourself to the creatures of this world in order to what? Run back to a mortal prince who wishes to enslave you? Torture you? Rape you?” he asked.

The words felt like an accusation more than a question. There was a tone of hurt in his voice that confused me, his face showing the betrayal that he would not admit to feeling. But his pain could not begin to match mine.

“What do you mean run back to the mortal prince?” I asked, my body beginning to violently shake. “Is he—is Sterling alive?”

Bellamy’s eyes grew wide, as if just realizing his slip of words. But I knew before he spoke what the answer was.

“We received word this evening that Prince Sterling has made a full recovery,” he said, his voice breaking.

I wanted to scream, to rage at him for not telling me. But now, with my engagement still intact, I was unsure what motivation I had. Did I want to go back? Could I survive a marriage to Sterling? A life of wearing a blocker and submitting to a mortal boy?

Bellamy seemed to sense what I was feeling. Or that was what I imagined the visible slouch of his shoulders and heavy release of breath meant. He was not the easiest to read when he blocked me so well.

“I am sorry, Asher, I did not mean that. But I see the way you flinch, I sense your terror when you are touched, and I know that you do not want that sadistic child as a husband. So why, Princess? Why do you insist on going back?”

“I do not want to be with him, but your kind, they kill fae. What am I supposed to do exactly? Sit back and play a good prisoner while you murder innocents? What kind of princess would that make me?” I whispered, the fight gone from me. All I could picture was the way that Sterling smiled at me as I walked towards him down the aisle. The gleam in his eye as he realized he had everything he wanted.

I closed my eyes, but the tears forced their way through, pouring down my cheeks at the same time raindrops began falling from the gray clouds above. I used to love the rain, how it made the air smell clean and crisp, how it seemed to wash away my worries. Then Xavier began having me carry out executions, and suddenly it felt like an omen. Similar to how the drops felt against my skin now.

Suddenly, I felt Bellamy’s hand on my throat. I tensed under his grip, though it was rather soft, and grabbed onto his wrist. I wondered briefly why this act did not terrify me; why my skin did not crawl at the show of his dominance or the reminder of another prince’s hand on my neck. His thumb slowly slid up my throat, my chest slightly grazing his stomach. The smell of cinnamon and smoke hit me, his breath caressing my ear.

“I am not the evil you should be concerned with, Princess. Your fae have nothing to fear from me. Not as you believe they do. Please, trust my words,” he whispered. Then, even softer, “Please stay with me.”

I shivered, opening my eyes to find his face now inches from mine. At this proximity, I noted his icy blue irises had a slightly darker hue around the rims. Each of his freckles stood out in contrast from his complexion, running across the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His full pink lips parted slightly, and the rings on his fingers were cold against my skin as his hand slid down to my shoulder.

“How can I trust you?” I asked, my voice so incredibly weak.

Just as quickly as his fingers met my skin, they vanished, the searing heat leaving a chill in its absence. Pain flashed across his features before he turned to face the forest. He stood like that for a moment, as if contemplating his answer.

“Come with me to The Royal City, meet the king, and if you do not like what he has to say, then I will take you home,” he said, his back still to me.

My mouth fell open, the surprise overcoming the suspicion. If he meant what he said, then I would not have to brave The Mist or the Forest of Tragedies or any other terrifying obstacle. He could portal me to my bedroom in the blink of an eye, but I would first have to travel with them to meet the most notoriously evil king to grace any realm. I thought it over, weighing out the pros and cons of this bargain.

Bellamy must have sensed my wavering resolve, because he turned towards me once more.

“Fine,” I answered.

His eyes grew wide, and he stumbled back slightly. Then, he smiled, a deep dimple gracing each cheek. I could not bring myself to feel anything other than resignation and sorrow.

“But I want you to know, that if you do not let me leave like you have promised, I will kill you and everyone you love,” I vowed. I had already lost my future—my joy—there was no use in maintaining a moral compass.

His smile faltered. I did not wait to see what he would do or say next, instead I turned around and started walking. I had seen the tree line before, and was fairly certain his home would be this direction. The thought of the dark and foreboding manor felt oddly comforting, familiar even.

Eventually, Bellamy caught up to me, and together we walked back to the manor, where he led me to my room. Before I could shut the door in his face, he handed me the basket of food. After setting the basket down on my desk, I walked to my bed and collapsed onto it, not bothering to change my clothes or even take off my boots.

I laid there, staring up at the cream ceiling until the darkness turned to light. Even then I did not move. A heaviness that made it hard to breathe settled over my chest, and I wondered if this was what being hopeless felt like.

---