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“You’re breathtaking,” he tells me, but his words leave me feeling… empty.
It used to be that when he complimented me, there was a glimmer in his eyes that warmed my heart and made me feel alive. Now, his eyes are dead of all emotion and this all feels like an act. Like there’s nothing left of the Phantom I love. Even though I pray that isn’t the case.
“Instead of dinner in your room, would you like to accompany me to the dining hall?” he asks, his gaze trained on my face like he’s carefully reading my reaction. And I’m kind of glad he’s focused on me, because then he won’t notice the bed that’s missing all its linen.
Every muscle in my body stiffens. For some reason, I want to say no. I want to back away from this ghost of Phantom and forget all I’ve lost. But getting out of this room is my only chance for escape, so telling him no would be stupid. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for. And maybe if I play the part of a happy prisoner, he’ll let his guard down, and I can escape and get back to the others.
Then come up with a real plan to save him and my world.
“That sounds perfect.” I flash him my best smile, the one he used to love, and he takes my hand and brings my wrist to his lips, kissing the bruises softly. The ones he left behind on me.
Which feels… ominous, for some reason.
He puts my hand on his arm and leads me out of the room and down a circling staircase that seems to go on forever. And if I thought my room was cold and empty, it’s nothing in comparison to this castle. The walls are dark grey stone on the inside, but they seem impossibly dark. Maybe because of how far apart the torches are on the walls, or how dimly they light the staircase. I can’t tell for certain, but a frigid cold rolls off the stone so intensely that I can almost see it.
Like ghosts, haunting the empty castle. And after Rayne, I’d honestly be surprised if this place isn’t haunted, since so many people have lost their lives here unjustly. It’s a ripe location for the restless undead. Which isnotwhat I should be thinking about right now.
We finally come to the end of the staircase, and my gaze darts in all directions around me, trying to memorize everything to help with my escape. One hall seems to lead to the outside, although I’m not entirely sure it does because it’s just a dark doorway that seems to lead to nothing. He takes me past it though, and the halls widen until it feels like I’m walking through a castle rather than my prison.
Even if it’s still my prison.
He stops us in front of two massive doors, and rot monkeys spring past us down the hall, opening the doors like creepy butlers. The oily black creatures regard me with tilted heads as we walk past them, their red eyes gleaming. A shiver rolls down my spine, and I dart my gaze away and to where we’re going. Which is into a huge dining hall.
The place is strange. I bet at one time it was even beautiful. It reminds me of some of the oldest fae castles, with nods to medieval times, with lots of stone, huge fireplaces, and silky fabric draping from the ceiling in the corners. But in this place, its black material, a shade darker than the stone, but still not enough to brighten the place. Torches line the walls and both fireplaces are blazing, yet the flames do little to chase away the overwhelming sense of wrongness here. Of misery.
Phantom tugs on my arm, and I realize I was staring. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I lie.
Someone walks past us, and I stiffen when I realize it’s the king, his dark cloak practically floating behind him. He moves to the far end of the table and sits at the head. A rot monkey is there in an instant, placing a glass onto the table in front of him with some sort of liquid in a glass. It could be a brownish-red wine with tannins floating in the cup or it could be water that desperately needs to be filtered. I don’t know, and I’m not sure if I want to know.
Phantom pulls out a chair for me beside his father, and I have to force myself not to flinch away from the horrible man. The man whose selfishness created all of this, who stole the Moonstone from the sky, who enslaved or hunted his people.
Who took Phantom from me.
He gives me a cold look as Phantom pushes my chair in. “Are you enjoying my world?”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I manage, “Yes.” It’s not a great answer, but it’s the best I can give.
“It’s an incredible place. More than any other, and soon earth will be the same.” He sounds pleased with himself. I eye my fork and wonder if these two could stop me before I put it through his eye.
Phantom pours my glass of… dirty-looking wine from a pitcher at the center of the table, I look, but don’t touch the brownish liquid. It seems to be the rule of thumb here to treat everything with caution. A rule I plan to stick to as much as I can. In fact, I’m going to check the water in my room again, if I have to go back there, because now I’m hoping like hell I didn’t miss anything with something gross floating in it.
Ugh.
Phantom takes the chair beside me, then looks up at his father expectantly. It’s weird. Sitting between two people who don’t feel like people. Who don’t seem to radiate any kind of emotion. It’s not quite… evil, just unsettling, even though I know the Shadow King is evil down to his core.
Sad, but evil.
“I trust you’re finding your accommodations suitable?” His father asks, but it, too, is an act. He’s no more interested in me or my comfort than I am in him or his. I want him dead. And he either wants the same for me, or doesn’t give a shit about me. Either way, none of this is sincere.
But I can play this game. “They’re lovely, thank you.”There.
A side door swings open and a rot monkey comes out carrying two plates, followed by another monkey carrying a third plate. The stench of the monkeys comes a moment before they’re close to our table, and I wrinkle my nose, resisting the urge to vomit. And by resist, I mean that I swallow the bile in my throat so it doesn’t make this dinner any worse than it already is.
The king is served his food first, but doesn’t seem to notice their strong scent. If anything, I think he might be pleased… you know, if he can feel pleased at all.
A monkey smiles at me as it climbs onto the back of my chair. No, it doesn’tsmileexactly, it flashes me its sharp teeth and then drops my food in front of me, his long, sharp nails clicking the surface of the table as he does so. I jerk my gaze away from the filthy, stinking creature and look down at what I’ve been served.
