Page 39 of The Kingdom of Flames

“Perhaps,” Lord Silas smiled, the knife was to Celestine’s throat as she sat on his lap on horseback. “But could you keep her, Scarlet Lord? It takes a long, long time to catch me.”

Vermilion’s pale and haunted face regarded them. He wore his bone circlet, his brow dripping with blood. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

“Good,” Silas smiled, but his tone grew sterner. “If I can take a ring from your finger as you sleep, blood drinker, I can snatch your life away. Gamble on tumbling dice and weather, but never gamble with me. Lest the next time I’m in your chamber while you and that lover of yours are sleeping, I steal a heartbeat instead of a trinket.”

“Give her to me,” Vermilion stared hungrily down at Celestine. Celestine saw him glance at the horizon.

“He’s close.” Silas smiled. “Do you want to waste time wagering, or are we at an accord?”

Vermilion huffed. Then nodded. His men all around her were pale-faced, gaunt, poised for violence with barbed weapons. Lord Silas did not seem to care.

I saw how fast he moved. He is the epitome of a thief in the night.

“I’d hear you say it, for my sake.” Silas pointed to the Scarlet Lord with the blade.

“We have an accord. That which you ask will be paid.”

Silas made a mock bow, twirling the dagger in his fingers. Then he whispered in Celestine’s ears, “Bide your time, Final Bride. Encarmine approaches.”

They took Celestine from Lord Silas' horse and bound her hands. One of the Scarlet Lord’s gaunt men spat upon the ground at Lord Silas’s feet.

There was a terrible wet sound behind her, and Celestine turned along with the two men who brought her into the castle. The guard who had spat was on his knees, holding a slashed throat. Lord Silas still sat atop his mount and cleaned a blade lazily, eyes fixed on Vermilion.

“Some gamblers lose, Lord Vermilion. Some should not even brave the table.”

Vermilion stared down from the battlement. “Pay him.”

Whatever the Scarlet Lord threw down to his men to give Silas, Celestine did not see.

“Good luck, Final Bride,” Silas called after her.

Being pulled into the ruined fortress was akin to the feeling of drowning. Celestine was reminded of when she had been caught in a current, pulled deep under in a river, spinning, turning, unable to know which way led to life and which was the embrace of death.

The sky was strangely grey, and she knew it shouldn’t have been. Vermilion brought darkness with him wherever he went. The thick, jagged stones emanated such a stark coldness, so different than the seat of Encarmine’s estate.

I go to my ruin, bartered by these demigods. I wish I could see Encarmine’s face one last time.

Encarmine had been here. She knew it. It may have been centuries ago, but she felt his fury here in the devastation of this fortress. They marched Celestine up winding steps, some little more than rubble until the battlements and the grey sky greeted her.

As did Lord Vermilion.

His scarlet banners flapped in a wind she was too numb to feel. Over the edge of the broken wall, Celestine saw his host. A chittering part of two or three hundred armored men, their pale skin so unwelcome in this land of summer.

“Final Bride,” Vermilion’s voice was a dagger across a throat. Even here, there was a coldness in being so close to him. His skin was the faded touch of a corpse, his eyes black in a pointed face. With his circlet donned, his majesty was profane, a thing of decay, like the cadaver of someone beautiful behind glass.

My fate will not end quickly.

“Vermilion.” Celestine would not address any formalities to this thing. His beauty was jagged. Tall, taller even than Encarmine, but lean and long-limbed. Like a monster. He wore no armor, just the rich trappings of scarlet and silver, but thread-thin.

The guards shoved Celestine forward, and she tripped on a loose stone, but Vermilion caught her in his grip, pulling her wrists high and bringing her face into his curled sneer.

“A prize won is not a prize kept,” Vermilion hissed the sacrilege of the Red Banners’ words. His grip tightened around her wrists until she felt her bones bend.

Celestine gritted her teeth, refusing to kneel. The pain was extraordinary.

“The only thing you’ve earned is what Encarmine does to you when he comes.”

Vermilion's eyes were depthless pits of cruelty. There was such hatred there, hatred for her, for everything he opened his eyes to. What could cause such a thing?

---