Page 40 of Blood Red Woes

“Empress Morimento,” Rune finishes for me, lighting up on my wrist.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Do not let this painting fool you, Rey. Odds are, if she’s still alive, she’s a shadow of what she used to be. Do not let your guard down.”

He’s right, of course. That’s the thing about Rune. He might be a freaking tattoo on my wrist, but he’s right about a lot of things. I never wanted to listen to him at first, but now… I learned my lesson. The ex-wizard knows a lot, and I’m better off heeding his warnings.

I turn away from the picture on the wall and resume my walk down the carpeted hall. When I reach the end of it, I’m left with a choice: turn left and follow the carpet, possibly run into Empress Morimento, or turn right and hope by some miracle I can find Fred’s things.

Something pulls at me, something whispers into my ear, and I shake it off. Maybe there’s more to it. Maybe the empresses aren’t insane. Maybe they’re dead or trapped or something. Maybe this is all one big misunderstanding.

I turn to the left and keep following the carpet.

Down another hall I go, venturing deeper into the castle. The carpet eventually leads me to another set of doors, though this set is already open. I walk through them, greeted by the sight of guards lining the room on both my right and left.

Whoa.Guards?

My eyebrows furrow, and I whip my head back and forth, studying them. They are stationary, holding onto shields and spears, not moving an inch when they see me. I can’t see their faces beneath their helmets; the metal hides it all. Their capesare a bluish green fabric, pinned to their shoulders above their chainmail.

They don’t move. Not their heads. Not their legs. Hell, I don’t even know if I see them breathing. It’s like they’re frozen in time. Half a dozen guards on my left, another on my right. They line the room, and it’s as I turn my head to see what they’re guarding that the breath gets knocked out of me.

A throne rests at the far end of the room, vines covering its stonework. Small flowers have sprouted, a multitude of colors around the base of the throne. It’s not the throne itself that startles me, though.

It’s the person sitting on it.

I’m startled because the person I see isn’t Empress Morimento.

It’s a man.

Chapter Eleven

The man wears a bluish-green ensemble laced with gold accents, his shoulders wide and his posture rigid. Though I’m still pretty far from him, I can see the same golden band around his forehead, the same dark blue jewels that I saw in the painting of Empress Morimento. He wears dark, scuff-free boots along with what looks to be black gloves.

“Stranger, come closer,” he says, his voice carrying across the hall.

I don’t want to. Of course I don’t freaking want to. Out of all of the possibilities I imagined, this never occurred to me. Where is Empress Morimento? Who is this random guy?

“Uh, no thanks,” I tell him. “I’m good right here.”

“If you don’t come closer, we cannot discuss what you came here for. I prefer not to shout across the room.” His lips barely move when he speaks; it’s almost uncanny, like he’s talking right into my head.

I definitely don’t want to get any closer to this guy, but something makes me inch forward anyways.

Blond hair so light it’s near white, cut short to his head on the sides, though a bit longer on top. Eyes a brilliant, vibrant blue. Skin without a flaw, no blemishes or scars to be seen. A body beneath those fancy clothes that is slender and strong simultaneously.

It’s only when I stand with ten or so feet between us that I realize he’s not that much older than me. In his mid-twenties, maybe. And, what’s worse—he’s hot. I called Frederick bookishly cute, but this guy… oh, this guy is on another level. Sharp cheekbones, a clean-shaven face, a strong, square chin.

Still, just because the dude is hot doesn’t mean I trust him.

“Who are you?” I ask the most important question, the one I wondered the first moment I saw him, and yet, as I speak it aloud, it dawns on me. The similar features, the almost unnatural beauty… I know the answer before he says it.

“I am Emperor Morimento,” he says as his blue eyes drop to my feet, slowly taking me in. “And you are not only a stranger to Acadia, but a stranger to this world.”

I glance down at myself, at my filthy clothes—clothes that don’t belong here. “That obvious, huh?” When I meet his stare again, I find him wearing a mixed expression, like he doesn’t know what to make of me.

“You should not be here, and yet here you are,” he says. “Perhaps you have come to save us all.” God. Not him, too. First Rune and now this guy? “Judging by the look on your face, I must assume you came here expecting to find my mother. Perhaps you have heard about the…” His handsome face darkens, though he doesn’t move an inch. “…madness that overtook the empresses years ago. Let me put your mind at ease: my mother is dead. She died a long time ago.”

Hearing that doesn’t exactly make me relax. There’s something about this I still don’t understand. I don’t have a degree in the history of Laconia, but I’m pretty sure there are no male emperors.

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