Page 23 of The Umbra King

“You will be measured by a seamstress. Once your uniform and night clothes are finished, they will be delivered to your room. Place your soiled clothes in the basket,” he said, pointing to a small basket by the door. “Laundry is collected twice a week.”

“Do I set the basket in the hall on those days?”

He shook his head slowly. “Why would you do that?”

“How else will they collect them?” she asked, wondering how he led an entire legion with a brain full of rocks.

His brows rose. “They open your door, pick up your basket, close your door, and leave,” he said, as if speaking to a child.

She stared at him incredulously. “What if I’m naked?”

Sam threw his head back with a booming laugh, and the sound startled her. “You no longer have privacy. Welcome to Vincula.” He turned to leave but paused. “Someone will be by to collect you once Caius assigns you a position among the palace staff.”

Without another word, he left, leaving Rory alone in her new home for the next five-hundred years.

Rory stoodin the bathroom and splashed water on her face as her brain tried to grasp the concept of being alive for multiple lifetimes. Mystics lived to be anywhere between one-hundred and two-hundred years old. But five-hundred plus another one-hundred and fifty when she was free? It was unfathomable.

The door to her room burst open, and a blur of fabric bustled in like a whirlwind. Rory straightened, prepared for a fight. It was only a matter of time before the other staff began making her life a living hell, if their reaction in the throne room was any indication. Well, more than it already was.

A short woman with dark hair cut into a long bob stood by Rory’sbed, dropping the bundle of clothes she held. She turned her wide eyes to Rory and tilted her head.

“Why does your face look like that?” she asked.

Rory’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

A laugh burst from the woman’s chest. She looked to be in her thirties with the slightest lines by her eyes, presumably from laughing.Or squinting.“I mean, you look like you ate a lemon for the first time.”

Rory crossed her arms but said nothing as the woman picked up a dress and beckoned her closer. “I’m here to measure you, not beat you.”

Dropping her arms, Rory crossed the tiny room reluctantly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Put this on,” the woman said, picking up another dress.

Rory tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the bed before grabbing the dress and wiggling it on. It was short-sleeved, black, and had three buttons at the top. It fell just below the knee, and her face slackened. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The woman shrugged and gestured to her own uniform. “We all have to wear it.” Rory glanced at the woman’s dress, noting she also wore a greyish apron with large pockets.

“I’m Bellina, by the way,” she said.

“Rory. Are you scoping me out to find the best way to torture me?” She had no time for games.

Bellina shook her head with a light laugh. “You wouldn’t be here if you were as evil as they say.” She looked at her with curiosity. “Though it is unsettling that you hung your victims on hooks.”

Rory hiked a shoulder, no longer needing to pretend she wasn’t a monster. It was freeing. “Their souls were black, and in my opinion, they were nothing but meat suits for pure evil.”

“You’re aFey,”Bellina discerned.“I’m aVisitant.” She moved her hair aside to show the tiny mark behind her left ear.

Rory’s brows rose.Visitantswere usually peacemakers. They hadthe ability to control the moods of those around them. “How did you end up here?”

“I am no different from you,” she said with a tight smile.

Rory held up her arms while Bellina pinned the fabric at her sides. “You killed thirteen people and hung them on meat hooks, too?”

Bellina shook her head with a smile. “No.” Her expression turned serious. “I killed my father-in-law.” Rory tried not to show her surprise. “I discovered he beat my wife repeatedly when she was a child. Her mother died during childbirth, and he blamed her.” Her fists tightened around the fabric. “She was just a child.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and her eyes were distant. “My wife told me upfront she had issues dealing with trauma from her childhood. I thought she meant from growing up without a mother, and I never pushed the issue. I knew she would tell me when she was ready.”

“She has nightmares,” she continued. “I would find her in our room crying, and it broke my heart that I couldn’t help her, until one day, she opened up to me. She admitted she was terrified he would try to hurt her again.” Bellina lifted her gaze to Rory’s. “I would sooner die than let him touch her, and I couldn’t stand to see her living in fear. I would put a knife in his gut ten times over.”

Rory nodded. “Too bad we weren’t friends in Erdikoa. I would have done your dirty work.”

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