Chapter 13
Crymson
He brought me back to the room. He held me sweetly in the closet but then he didn’t say a word when he shoved me inside Christian’s bedroom and slammed the door behind me.
The lock turned heavily this time.
I’m thankful honestly. A solid lock separates me from the king.
For now.
The day passes slowly with only Christian’s most personal underwear drawer for me to riffle through. Other than an extraordinarily organized sock drawer, there’s nothing of importance. Like the other rooms of this castle that I’ve seen, there are no windows. No light shines in for me to bask in. No skyline is visible for me to enjoy. Just four hard walls and an empty room. It’s fucking depressing.
Even the carved writing desk in the far corner holds nothing more than a few sheets of stark white paper and a single pencil that also was most definitely carved by hand.
Do vampires really care about finely crafted furniture this much?
Every object is intricate with design. The walls may be built of cold stone, but even the dark-stained four-poster bed is lined with carvings of delicate leaves and vines that poke out here and there. My fingers run along the smooth polished wood. The deeply engraved lines hold meaning with all the swooshing swirls, but I can’t understand it. I simply feel it. It makes me feel... alive.
Everything’s beautiful.
And terrible.
A pain knots up my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s from hunger or anxiety. I screwed up already. I almost ran into the King’s arms instead of escaping him.
Yesterday, my biggest problem in life was my toxic ex-boyfriend. Today, I’m locked in a bedroom, preparing to marry an old man who will most certainly eat me alive.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Seven said I didn’t have to marry him. So that’s a plus, I guess. I’ll be like a side chick... that he eats alive. Great.
I slide over the bed on my stomach, but my chains twist harshly beneath me, and I quickly have to flip to my back. A sort of uncomfortable energy is pulsing through me with too much intensity. The tangled emotions in my belly churn so much that I finally curl into a ball and hope sleep comes to take away all my terrible thoughts and worries.
This is all just too much. Unconsciousness is better...
For now.
* * *
Images seep into my mind.Chaotic war clashes into the room. Vampires scramble through the throne room, blood dripping down their chins and throats. The man at the seat isn’t Boris though.
It’s someone with familiar, kind eyes. Green eyes like nature itself is blooming behind his gaze. His stance is noble, and his stature is confident. A man fit to wear such a heavy crown, it seems.
He ushers people from the room as a storm of warriors break down the far door. He rushes in a flash of speed to face them head on, teeth extended into sharp, vicious points.
But then those captivating eyes go wide. His mouth falls slack. And dark blood sputters from his lips on a breath he can’t seem to reach.
From behind him, his body is shoved off of a long blade, and the man who holds the hilt sneers down on his victim. And then he arcs that sword up and slices it down so hard that I have to flinch away. A slow rolling sound crawls over the floor.
I force my eyes open and look up at the man now standing over me.
He’s leaner. His face isn’t puffy and bloated like it was when I met him. But there’s no mistaking the cruelness of that smile.
Boris.
The king’s crown lies in a puddle of blood while the head is now far from its body. Green eyes are empty and vacant.
Boris calls off the warriors with a small lift of his hand. The heavy marching halts, and a quieter parade of footfalls carries on.
Then he looks right at me.