Page 65 of Heavy is the Crown
There are many individuals who control death.
– Priestess Codex
Ava
Hell is almost exactly as I remember it, and yet entirely different. When I left here, I was young, naive, and all I wanted was to live in freedom. Now, I’m not sure who I am as I return.
Cordelia and Arcanna’s mother dropped me unceremoniously into a spare bedroom as soon as the portal had shut. The room itself is bland, the only thing standing out against the dull creams of the wall is the grand four-post bed in the center of the room made of whirls of black steel, the ends coming up in jagged points that look sharp enough to kill. It’s the most dangerous thing in here, and something tells me that is by design.
A fire crackles in the hearth on the other side of the room, illuminating a dark oak desk with two sitting chairs. One or two books lay atop the desk, giving it the illusion that someone could study there. I move toward the armoire stationed next to what I can only assume is my bathroom, but with the door to it locked,I have no way of knowing.I guess they think I won’t ever need to pee.Opening the armoire, I find nothing but slinky dresses and lacy garments that have me rolling my eyes to suppress the vomit threatening to come up. As I’m shutting the wardrobe, Oisin strides in, followed by two young women.
“Is the room to your liking?” he asks. His voice feels like oil on my skin as he surveys me from head to toe. That red eye gleaming with hunger and cunning.
I plaster on the fake smile I’ve learned to wear so well. “It’s a little plain, to be honest,” I reply, folding myself down into one of the chairs.
He lets out a laugh. “You always did have extravagant taste. Don’t worry, after our wedding, you’ll be moved into my wing, but for the sake of the kingdom, we need to uphold the idea that you are still a virgin. No need for them to learn that their queen is a whore.”
The fact that Oisin believes that means he never knew me. Anger pulses through me, but I say nothing, playing the obedient pet. A role I’ve played well most of my life. I smile pleasantly but offer no comment.
Oisin seems pleased with my lack of response. He snaps his fingers, and another person moves into the room. “This is Harrowlena. She is a priestess in training, but for now, she’ll be your handmaiden.”
I hold back a gasp as I take in the young woman standing in front of me. Covering from the bridge of her nose down to her chin and halfway up her cheeks is a metal mask. Crafted to appear as lace, the contraption is held to her jaw via brass-looking screws. Her silver hair is bound back in a simple ponytail, revealing the device in its fullest. Her eyes remain locked on the floor in front of her bare feet.
Utilizing my distractedness as I look on in horror, Oisin plants a firm kiss on me that my entire body wants to revoltagainst. It’s all I can do to contain my shudder of disgust, but he pulls back with a smile. “My staff will attend to you. You’ll be dressed for dinner this evening to meet my subjects. They'll want to know their queen has returned.”
He turns from me and calls, “Harrowlena.” The young girl moves up next to him cautiously, her violet eyes finally connecting with my own as Oisin pets the top of her head. “Tonight needs to be perfect; make sure it goes off without a hitch.”
She gives a nod of her head, those haunted eyes cast back to the ground as Oisin lets his hand slip down her waist before he moves away. The other two women stand in a row, silent. “These two will be at your disposal as well; anything Harrowlena cannot help you with, they will. They will come to me with updates on how you're settling in,” he adds. The subtext is easy enough to read:These are my spies and you would do well to remember that.
“The young priestess will be more than enough,” I counter.
But he gives me a patronizing smile and shakes his head. “No, no, only the finest for our queen. I’ll see you tonight, my dear!” And with a final wave, he exits out the door he came through. It’s not lost on me that the lock engages the moment he is out the door. He doesn’t trust me, which is fair, but it will make my time here more difficult. I need to find those grimoires and get the fuck out of here. If I manage to kill Oisin, that will be a bonus.
I turn toward the silver-haired woman. “Harrowlena, is it?” I ask the priestess. She nods. The women behind her unlock the bathroom, and one begins to draw a bath while the other busies herself with cleaning and readying various cosmetics for the evening. I tilt my head in question at the priestess, my eyebrow raised. “And does that mask come off?”
“Your Grace,” one of the women says behind me, “Harrowlena is not allowed to remove the mask unless his lordship allows it. She is a danger to herself and others without it.”
I glance between the maid and the priestess, curiosity tugging at me. “And why is she dangerous?” I ask, not missing the way those violet eyes flash with a profound rage. Too quick for anyone else to notice, but the contrast between how meek she was with Oisin and that anger makes me think she is not as compliant as these women.
The other maid clears her throat as she exits the bathroom, the cloying smell of roses now seeping out amongst the steam escaping the room, immediately making me long for Drago’s scent. “She is a banshee, Your Grace. Now, if you please, we must get you bathed and ready.”
My eyes widen a fraction. Banshees are rare women, their powers passed down through a very select line. Stories of the power they hold claim they have the ability to level entire civilizations with one scream. It’s why the kings of old hunted them down and destroyed most of them. I have certainly never met one before, nor to my knowledge has Jackson. I keep my eyes trained on hers before I offer her a small smile.
Before I can make a move to head toward the bathroom, an older woman with graying hair pulled up in a high bun walks in. The two young maids suddenly snap to attention. All of them wear the same uniform dress, simple black with a white apron around the waist. Each of the younger two has their brown hair pulled low in a bun at the nape of her neck. The picture of modesty.
The eldest clucks at me in what only can be described as pity.
“Oh, sweet dear.” She delicately places her arm around my shoulders in a motherly fashion, pushing me toward the openbathroom. “I know how scary this is. Master Oisin told us what’s happened, but don’t worry, he’ll fix you right up.”
I clear my throat, unsure of the story he’s given the staff. “What do you mean?”
She looks at me with sadness plastered on her face. “Those dragons took you. Your brother is trying to steal the throne. Lord Oisin told us how scared you were when it first happened. He was heartbroken when he found you and realized they had brainwashed you. But he’ll fix it. As we speak, he’s working with the Fairmore witch to counteract it.” She pauses for a moment as she looks over at the younger girls.
So, that’s the story he is giving, that I was kidnapped and brainwashed?A storm is brewing under my skin as she continues to talk. A storm that makes me want to rip Oisin’s heart out of his chest and feed it to Shadow. Visions of my hands turning black as I feed him my mate’s death magic penetrate my mind before I’m pulled back out of them by the older woman’s annoying voice.
“My name is Pearl, and this is Ada.” She points to the youngest one, who told me Harrowlena is dangerous. She has brown eyes to match her plain brown hair. She curtsies but otherwise ignores me and goes about tidying the already pristine room. “We’ll be attending to you from here on out. Master wants to make sure you get to know us, so you feel comfortable. Oh, and of course, you met dear Harrowlena.”
It takes every fiber of my being to avoid lashing out at her. “And the other girl?” I bob my head toward the one still preparing for my bath. “What's her name?”
