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What was happening? Had the carving in the ground summoned this storm? Or had the storm awakened the carving?
I felt as if I were entranced by the twin storms, and something was calling me into the center of them. They were straining to reach each other and seemed to need me to act as a conductor of some kind. It was almost impossible to resist. My nerve endings were buzzing with need and anticipation. Unable to restrain myself, I took a step forward, the toes of my booted foot brushing against the edge of the carved circle.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The Bone Prince’s words crashed into me, stopping me in my tracks. The conditioned fear response I had come to associate with Zayne’s voice rushed through me, freezing the very blood in my veins. I whipped around to see him standing at the top of the staircase, his rich, chocolate brown hair billowing across his eyes.
He was furious.
Cerenah
‘Alexa, play Lilith by Halsey and SUGA.’
The deep scar that ran from his jaw to his hairline stood out in the erratic lighting from the storm. It cut across the bridge of his nose and sliced through his cheek and brow bone. He was very lucky he had not lost his eye.
I remembered the day he had gotten that scar. Having served my sentence in the kitchens for a little over a month, I had not seen Zayne or Vespara once. One day, without warning, the chef pulled me from the dish pit, and ordered me to clean up.
“Why?” I had foolishly asked, only to receive a firm slap across the face and a snarl. You would think after a month I would have learned not to question orders. However, I never really did stop fighting. It was why my magick was so damaged.
After showering, I came out to find that my kitchen scrubs had been traded for a beautiful, but simple dress. I ran my fingers over the supple velvet. I had worn nothing but rough rags for so long that the soft, violet fabric felt foreign on my fingers.
I pulled the dress on and was escorted by a guard out of the kitchens and up onto the main floor.
‘If I see you out here again, you will regret it.’ Zayne had told me. I glanced around nervously, hoping I wouldn’t see him or Vespara. Unless… were they the reason I was being summoned up here? What did they want with me? I had hoped they had forgotten I was even here.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked the guard, my curiosity finally overtaking my fear of being hit again. Predictably, the guard ignored me, and led me down a beautiful corridor. A corridor that I now knew led to Zayne’s chambers.
The guard stopped at an ornate, Roman door, and knocked firmly, while I waited anxiously behind him.
“Enter.” Zayne’s voice had floated through the paneled wood. The guard opened the door and gestured for me to go inside.
Despite the fact that Zayne seemed to have foregone turning on any lights, it was still clear that his chambers were exquisite. Along the right side of the room there was a large, canopied bed. He had a chess table and a few comfortable looking chairs set in the center of the room. Against the far wall, before the landscape view of the city of Midasara, were two armchairs. Zayne sat in one of them now, staring out at the city, a glass of scotch dangling loosely from his fingertips.
“Leave us.” He said, not bothering to turn, as he took a long pull from his drink. His voice was rough, and a spike of fear suddenly shot through my veins as the guard exited the room, leaving me alone with him.
Something was off.
I eyed the half empty decanter that sat on the small table next to him and wondered how many glasses of scotch he had already consumed.
“Hello, little Lightning Bug.” His voice was like poisoned honey. Dark and viscous. He didn’t move from where he sat. “It would seem as though your time has run out.”
What did that mean? I didn’t dare ask. He sounded so unhinged and strange. I worried what would happen if I said or did the wrong thing. He got up heavily from his seat, and poured himself another glass of scotch, before filling a second, which I realized with a start, was for me.
Finally, he turned to face me, but I could barely make out his features in the dark. He was backlit from the lights of the city, and his face was cast in shadows.
“Come, have a drink with me. It will help with the pain.” He said softly. I frowned at him. What pain? What was he going to do to me? My heart was slamming in my chest, and I began to shake. The slavery bond roared to life at his order, and I was forced to go to him. My shaking hands took the glass he offered me, and I took a large sip. The alcohol burned my throat on the way down, and I resisted the urge to cough.
“There you go. Finish the rest of it, Cerenah.” The way he said it made me look up. I gasped, my hand flying to cover my mouth as I took him in.
“Zayne, your face!” I was unable to stop myself. His entire face had nearly been split in half. The gash was so deep I could see the white of his bone glinting in the dim light. “You need to see a healer!” I cried, forgetting for a moment who he was and where we were. The wound was so gruesome, and so fresh, I was shocked there was not more blood. Had he already taken something to stop the bleeding? Why had he not received more medical attention? If he didn’t, it would surely leave a scar.
“While I appreciate your concern, I highly doubt you’ll continue to worry about my well-being for much longer.” He said, downing the rest of the scotch and dropping his empty glass on the table next to us. “Finish your drink, Cerenah.”
The temporary shock of seeing his disfigured face wore off quickly, and the initial fear I had felt upon entering the room had returned. The bond forced me to obey, and I finished the drink, shuddering as the heady effects of the alcohol entered my bloodstream.
His eyes flicked to my cheek, where the chef had struck me for asking too many questions. He scowled. “Always getting into trouble, little bug. Who was it that needed to put you in your place today?” He asked softly. I cast my eyes downward so he couldn’t see the fear and rage painted on my face.
“Chef.” I answered and he tutted his tongue condescendingly. I shivered as Zayne stepped closer to me; the heaviness that hung between us let me know what was about to happen. Suddenly I longed for the kitchens, and my sad pile of burlap that had been my home for the past few weeks.
