Page 15 of House of Gilded Nightmares

“Well, I did not consent to that agreement.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I hardly think it’s binding now that I’m an adult.”

“I assure you, it is binding, and you will marry King Jonavus.” Zyren’s look warns me not to argue, which only makes me want to argue more.

“If I really was kidnapped as a baby, that means I have family here,” I say, the realization hitting me in a swirl of hope and relief. “And once I speak to them, I’m sure we can renegotiate this marriage.”

Zyren’s expression wipes of emotion, his tone clipped when he speaks. “Your family is gone. You are the last of your line.”

The newly kindled hope in my chest is crushed beneath a wave of despair. “Gone?”

“They were killed in a fire, all except your mother, who suffered severe injuries. In her weakened state, she succumbed during childbirth.” Zyren’s eyes flicker. “I am sorry, Sarielle.”

Tears prick at my eyes, and I wipe them away angrily. “If you’re sorry, you’ll do your duty as my guardian and listen when I say I have no desire to marry your king.”

Another wave of emotion moves through his eyes. “I must take you to the king. In that, neither of us has a choice.”

Rage rises in my chest, and for a moment, I’m so angry it feels as if I could hurl the fire at him. “If you think I’m going to go from being forced into servitude to one man, only to turn around and be forced to marry a different man, you will come to find out who I really am. If I am to be Queen of Nightmares, I will make sure that I am a nightmare indeed.”

I turn from Zyren and lie down with my back to the fire. I’m exhausted, and I can’t stand to look at his face anymore. Plus, I need my rest if I’m going to make my escape later tonight after he’s fallen asleep.

It takes forever with all the thoughts and questions whirling through my head, but at last, sleep claims me.

I don’t know how long I’d rested when an unearthly howl splits the night sky. My body jerks upright. Zyren is awake already, sitting on the log just as he’d been before. The sound is coming from across the river. Before it fades, another cry cuts the night alongside it. Then another, and another, and another, dozens upon dozens of beasts growling and screeching and screaming into the darkness.

“Why are they doing that?” I whisper, eyes wide and locked on Zyren.

“They can sense you,” he responds. His voice is calm, but his jaw rolls, posture taut. “Their queen.”

Interlude

The girl learned at a very young age that she was different from all the other girls. Different from anyone within the palace walls.

It began as early as she was able to comprehend such things. First, when she was two or three, as the only child in the palace. The adults towered over her, and they sometimes shrunk away from her when she wanted to be picked up, or when she cried, or especially when she was angry, and the air around her grew a little darker, and the shadows in the room gathered a little closer.

When she was five, her world was shaken with the arrival of other girls her age. It was then she realized that they all had parents and she did not, a concept she was unfamiliar with. They had lived outside the palace prior to that day with adults who belonged to them in a way she couldn’t understand. She had been raised by a dozen different people. The only constant had been the coriata, but even them, she saw from afar. They visited seldom.

It was also at this time, seeing the other girls, that she realized they all looked different from her. They had hair of brown or black or flame or wheat, and eyes of earth or sky. Their hair was not silver and their eyes not metallic gold. Shadows did not cling to them when they cried, and thunder and rainclouds frightened them instead of bringing joy.

They were all thrown together, and suddenly she had a new room in the palace, far from the kitchens and the servants’ quarters where she’d lived before. The priestesses came for them every day, and they taught them books and songs and history and rituals. But mostly, they taught them obedience and discipline and respect for their order, namely the High Priest.

There was seldom time for play, but when they did let them out into the gardens, the other girls wanted nothing to do with her. One day, when she grew frustrated at attempting to join a game and being continually run from, the girl screamed, and when she screamed, the sky grew dark with storm clouds and the wind grew sharp, and the shadows beneath the hedges lengthened and crawled across the grassy lawn.

The other children fled in terror, but the Vor Kyran strode up to her, and she slapped her hand with a horse whip. A red welt immediately sprung up across the girl’s skin and her eyes pricked with tears of shock and pain as she stared up at the head priestess.

“We do not practice magic outside the cathedral!” the woman barked. “Only ever in the presence of the High Priest. Your magic is used for him and him alone!”

The girl was confused because she didn’t know she was calling magic, and it had certainly never occurred to her that her shadows were for someone else.

“Do you understand me?” the Vor Kyran snarled.

“What is happening here?” came a voice behind the priestess.

The Vor Kyran straightened, her face going white. The High Priest walked around her and turned to face them both.

“She was summoning magic outside of ceremony,” the priestess said in a low, terse voice.

“Indeed,” the High Priest said, and he looked down at the girl.

The girl shivered at the look on the High Priest’s face, the look of one who was hungry and awaiting their next meal.

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