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"I did love him once, you know. At least, I thought I did. It's hard to tell if it was real, or desperation, fueled by fear of my father..."
She trailed off, leaving Ianora to swallow, recalling the story Mitron had shared about her father beforehand. "So, it's all true, then, what you said? It was never Castor who killed you. It was your father."
"Yes. When I failed him, and his reach for power, he reacted in a rage and killed me. Castor took pity upon me and took my remains, which have been disturbed over the years, much to my displeasure."
"Why don't you move on?" Ianora asked gently. "What happened to you was horrible, but your father is long gone. Nothing is keeping you here any longer."
The ghost shook her head. "Oh, but there was—hate and resentment at first, then longing, and now...who knows. I'm tethered here. I do not know why."
Ianora was silent for a moment, considering Mitron's words. Then she straightened up, newly resolved. "Well...in a way, you've helped bring Castor and me together, so I'm going to help you, too."
"Help me?" Mitron sounded surprised. "How can you help me?"
"I'll find a way to put you to rest," Ianora promised. "You've been here a very long time, Mitron. You deserve peace."
"You really think so?" Her voice was twinged with hope. "Do you think that's possible? Finding peace?"
"Of course. I don't know how, but there are enough magic users in this palace. I'm sure we can find someone with the know-how to make it happen. Besides—"
A shadow flitted to Ianora's side, and she stopped mid-sentence to see what it was. But it was just a deserted hallway.
"Did you see that?" she whispered.
Mitron, too, was suddenly on guard. "Something doesn't feel right."
A trick of the light, or was it?
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the small alcove behind her, and Ianora's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the shape of a man standing there. A ghastly, wicked smile spread open from beneath those unnaturally vibrant green eyes. There was power behind that gaze now, and no doubt some malicious intent too.
"J-Johnathan," Ianora murmured, backing away and right into the wall. "You...you're not supposed to be here."
His long, sharp nails dragged across the stone wall. "I go wherever I please...taking whatever I please. Have you missed me, sweet angel?"
Ianora tried to calculate in her head where Castor would be right now. But his main workspace was on the opposite side of the castle. Calling out to him now would do nothing. And Johnathan had already slipped passed the guards. How?
Johnathan stepped out of the shadows, revealing the blood on his clothes, hands, and chin. Well, that answered that question.
"No," she whispered.
He grinned a bloody grin. "That's a pity, because I've missed you. I've thought about you every day. You, and what was taken from me..."
She flinched away from him when he advanced. "You lost it all yourself. I was as good as yours, and then you had to—to—"
"I showed a bitch her place, nothing more," Johnathan snarled. "And despite the severe lesson, you still haven't learned it. You've been running for years, my precious, doing what? Toying with kings? Spreading your legs for any and every man who would protect you?"
"That's a lie," she hissed. But then, because she couldn't help but piss him off, she added, "But I would have rather whored myself out thanevergive myself to you."
Something flared in Johnathan's eyes, and just like that, she knew she'd royally fucked up. He was on her in an instant, his sharp nails grasping her hair and yanking her scalp as she tried to move away. Johnathan's other hand was cold and dead to the touch when it wrapped around her wrist and twisted.
She groaned in pain, writhing, but unable to break free.
"You fucking slut, I'll show you your place," he growled into her ear, his breath cold and smelling of rotten flesh, just like the rest of him. "Since it seems your husband hasn't yet taught you."
He fisted her hair, tightly winding the coils around his fingers.
Angry and humiliated tears stung the corners of Ianora's eyes, but blinking away the pain, she spotted Mitron hovering nearby. As a ghost, she couldn't intervene, but...
"Mitron," Ianora gasped out. "Get help!"
