Page 37 of Heartless Prince

Glowing orange light shone through the branches, shadowy arms stretching across my vision until the trees tapered off and we reached a clearing. I stared ahead in wonder and fear at the astonishing place kept secret by the dense forest. Within the wide clearing was an ancient-looking amphitheater.

Built with granite and black marble with perfect arches between each column, it rose imposingly into the night sky, lit by myriad burning torches around its perimeter. Tiers of wide stone seats rose up around the open space, filled with men in dark robes with the hoods pulled up. Within the circular arena was a large throne on a platform. On the back of the throne there was an ornately-carved double-headed eagle topped by a crown. A stone rendering of a dagger cut through the middle of the carved crown, sinking into it.

The general atmosphere reminded me of the second-level ceremony I sneaked into, but it was definitely a different place. It was darker, windier, and I only counted about fifty or so men; much less than the ceremony.

Cloaked in black, Tobias sat on the throne, looking as arrogant and contemptuous as ever. The asshole genuinely thought of himself as some sort of king, just because of his surname.

The men who had been tasked with bringing me here pulled me over to a group of women huddled on the edge of the amphitheater. They were naked and wearing collars and chains, just like me, and every one of them looked drained and terrified. A petite girl with black hair, light brown skin and wide green eyes looked uncannily familiar to me, and with a shock I realized it was Pri Rahman—the girl who went missing from Roden several weeks ago. The same girl who was supposedly safe and back home in New Zealand.

Of course.The statement saying she was fine had been issued by the Roden Dean, a high-up member of Crown and Dagger. Mellie’s father. He was probably right here tonight.

I guess I wasn’t so special after all. This society probably ‘bought’ or kidnapped young women from all over the place, and only a few cases ever made it to the public eye. Take me, for example. No one thought I was missing. They all thought I was backpacking in Europe, and when they didn’t hear from me ever again, they’d probably just think I was a shitty friend who couldn’t be bothered staying in contact.

The drums pounded louder, and we were led to the platform in front of the throne. Someone pushed on my shoulders, forcing me to kneel, and I saw that all the other women were kneeling as well.

A gong sounded from somewhere to the right. I heard Tobias rise to his feet behind us. “Welcome, brothers!” he said in a booming voice. “As you were made aware of last night, the last girl in our new collection has finally arrived!”

Collection.We weren’t even human to these men. Just objects to be acquired, like stamps or pretty gems.

A cheer went up, and Tobias continued.

“These fine young specimens have all had their contracts signed, and they are now official property of Crown and Dagger. As soon as they are healed from tonight, they will begin their training here at the Finishing School.”

Healed? That sounded incredibly ominous. And what was this about training?

My stomach lurched. Fear crackled like electricity in the air around the platform. The other women were just as uninformed and terrified as me.

A man in a bronze beaked mask stepped over to the platform and leaned down in front of me, the first in line. “Drink,” he said. His voice sounded strange and distorted through the mask.

I glanced down at what he was holding out to me. A human skull, fashioned into a drinking bowl. Please be fake, I silently begged, but something told me it was all too real. I felt queasy.

“Drink,” the man repeated, proffering the skull bowl again.

I haltingly moved my head forward and let him tip the edge of the skull to my lips. It was filled with a dark red liquid. I prayed it wasn’t blood. It smelled sweet, and as the first drops hit my tongue, I realized gratefully that it was pomegranate juice.

Small mercies, I guess.

When I’d taken a few mouthfuls, he moved on to the girl next to me, then the next, until we’d all had our fill. Almost right away, I began to feel dizzy, disoriented. It was like I was in a dream. The sound of the men chanting suddenly filled my ears, and yet it felt like they were miles away, their voices drifting over the wind. The world was spinning and I just wanted to sit down, even though I was already kneeling on the ground.

The glowing light from the fiery torches planted in the ground seemed to shimmer and swirl before shooting into the air like fireworks. Whatever that juice was spiked with, it was hitting me hard, making me see things that weren’t there. It actually felt nice, this sensation of floating around, all warm and fuzzy and free.

Free.

I would never be free again…

Somehow, the terrible thought no longer seemed so bad, because I was floating away, too high to care about anything down in the real world.

“Deliciae dolor, deliciae dolor….” The chant rose, louder still, echoing through the amphitheater. What did those words mean again? Greer told me once, but I was too dazed to remember.

Colors and images and voices were whirling in front of me, twisting and twirling together until they cleaved into one stark image. Someone had dragged a brazier into the arena, and something was sitting in the flames. Some sort of tool.

I blinked hard, trying to stop my mind from drifting as I tried to figure out what it was. It was so difficult to think straight right now. I was practically hallucinating.

Reality finally struck me when a man carefully picked the tool out of the flames. It was a branding iron. The end glowed orange-red, and my belly tightened at the sight of it. I wanted to get up and run, scream, vanish into the forest, but my limbs were like jelly. I couldn’t move an inch.

Someone held my arms as a pair of unseen hands forced me to lean forward and down, exposing my back to the sky. I closed my eyes and moaned as the man with the iron moved behind me. “Please….” I muttered. It somehow came out sounding like gibberish.

A second later, a searing heat was in my skin, yanking the breath from my lungs. The drugs must’ve helped, though, because it was nowhere near as bad as I’d imagined it to be. It hurt, but it was tolerable. Then it was over, and the man stepped back over to the brazier to reheat the iron for the next girl.

---