NOVEL NEXT Chapter 14: The Storm
The walk there is slow, slower than anything else I've experienced. A crushing sensation builds from within me, getting more painful and blatant as we descend downward.
I wasn't aware the Willowhold palace had a dungeon.
"Neither was I."
For what purposes, I have no clue. The only thing I'm sure about is that it was a joint effort by Cryus and Valerius. Otherwise, it wouldn't be there in the first place, hidden in plain sight.
Scheming bastards. Brothers by heart.
So little and so much time has passed since we began walking.
I'm about to consider the possibility that the stairs are endless, a form of mental torture. Maybe there is no final destination, maybe we're stuck walking forever, but then I hear someone's screams echoing throughout the brick walls and the illusion of infinity is broken.
A wooden door halts us in our journey.
It's both a relief and the worst thing to ever come to my view. The dread almost has me hurling over and throwing up on one of the guards.
There's no way.
Is this it? Am I meeting my end in the hands of this deranged psychopath?
I'm hoping it'll be swift and painless at the very least.
The guards exchange glances once more, transacting without having to open their mouths. The guard on the right puts his hand forward and pushes the door open.
A harsh creak fires through the halls.
"Let me go, you bastards!" A singular presence breaks the wordless moment. A familiar frame struggles before me, tied up and blindfolded.
The small man, the one that was leading the group of thugs, is knelt over in the center of the dimly lit room. Guards surround him, ones stripped of their usual armor.
They watch the scene with sadistic grins, uncaring of the battered body before them or the smell of blood that permeates the room.
"What is this?" Alloy asks, curling its furry torso around my leg—protective.
For once, I have nothing to say back.
Valerius passes a torch to one of the guards. He rolls his sleeves up, exposing the arms of a warrior and a seasoned swordsman. I can only see the back of his auburn hair, but it's as if I can feel the smirk on his face without having to look.
He lifts the blindfold on the captive, revealing the small man's menacing eyes.
"You." The thug growls, foulness directed at my frame. "You bitch!"
He recognizes me, clearly. I wasn't hoping to meet him again, certainly not like this.
Valerius doesn't seem pleased by his outburst. The prince's demeanor shifts from sly to outright terrifying, wearing the face of a cold killer—something I'm guessing he saves for foreign threats.
Valerius raises his right hand. Before the small man can brace himself, he's been smacked across the face, half of his cheek painfully bruised, blooming red and blue.
On instinct, I jolt forward, wanting to separate the two before more violence ensues.
Alloy, however, stops me, blocking my feet with its small body.
"Don't." It instructs.
"You have something my woman wants." Valerius' voice is low and dark, providing no room for compromise, no room for nonsense.
My woman. The name catches me off guard, causing shivers to travel down my spine. He himself said our marriage mattered only in court, so to be called his woman, his anything, is unnerving.
Frustration and something else overwhelm my senses, setting it ablaze. Suddenly, the torches in the room seem to burn brighter.
"All of this for a cloaked phony?" The small man laughs, but there's no humor in his voice, no amusement. "What? Is he your personal head hunter, m'lady?"
My husband has a few questions, that's for sure. Valerius' brow is raised, but he doesn't ask, not in front of the hostage.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I retaliate. "I simply wish to undo a curse. Hand me the artifact. I know you have it."
"Take it!"
In his persistent struggle, a pecan-sized trinket falls out of the small man's pocket. It glows as it meets a puddle on the ground.
"The artifact." Alloy supplies.
Before I can claim it, Valerius pockets it.
Curses. Knowing my husband, he won't make it easy to retrieve. At the very least, I know where it is.
"That's all?" Valerius asks.
The small man opens his trap, spouting angered rants, but the prince's eyes never leave mine—his gaze is piercing, stripping my soul bear for the whole room to witness.
Silver meets brown, unable to look away.
For the first time in a long time, I feel shy.
Sputtering, I answer, "Yes."
"All that trouble for this?" Valerius teases, tossing the artifact in the air as if it were a toy. I see Alloy tense beside me. "Interesting."
"You have to get it back."
I'm fully aware of what I have to do. What complicates this entire process is not knowing how to do it.
Valerius is difficult to grasp. The wanton prince prefers to play convoluted games instead of being straightforward about what he wants.
I hate that I have to be at his mercy once more. Seeing the way he's brimming with satisfaction, it's clear that he knows it too. And he's absolutely loving it.
"Guards," He says. "Take the princess back to the main wing. Things here are about to become unsightly."
And so they do. The two lead me and Alloy away from the scene. Guilt gathers in my stomach as I listen to the small man cry for help.
Unfortunately, no one will be able to hear him. At least no one who has good intentions at heart.
I want to go back. I did that to him.
Alloy is more than concerned, affectionately rubbing itself against me. "He's a bad person, Penelope."
"Valerius?" I ask, unable to properly conduct my thoughts.
"No. I mean, yes. But I'm talking about the man who put me in this state. You call him the small man."
"Oh." I utter, quickening my pace as we approach the bedroom door.
It doesn't make me feel better. The small man's nature don't absolve me of my negligence. I'm the reason why he got involved with Valerius. I'm the reason why he's stuck in the dungeon with that psychopath right now.
I need to get it together.