Monstrous (33 page)

As I rise from the bed, a girl with light-brown hair and freckles flinches and almost drops her crust. I hold out my hands, palms out.

“Hello,” I say. “My name is Kymera.” They stare back, mouths agape. Delia, I notice, won't even look at me. My stomach turns. Not an auspicious start. I try again.

“I see some of you remember me.” I smile, but a different girl flinches. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

One with dark-brown hair steps forward, arms crossed over her chest. I recognize her as the girl who tried to escape and ran afoul of the goat-footed chickens. A handful of scars still dot her forearms. “Why are you here? To take us somewhere worse?” Her blue eyes blaze with unfiltered hatred. It is more terrible than any blow. I swallow hard, knowing full well no words can undo my horrid deeds.

“I'm here to take you home.”

A deathly quiet hovers in the air. Delia finally turns her gaze to me, but the expression on her face is hopeless. No one breathes. I can see no one believes me. Heaviness descends on my shoulders. What if this doesn't work? What if we all die here?

“I'm serious. I can help.”

The brave girl speaks up again. “How? What can you do against King Ensel?”

Dread billows in my chest. I knew this moment would come eventually. It will either convince the girls or make
them despise me even more.

I did everything out of love—misguided as it was—and all I can expect in return is hate. The irony leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

“Many things,” I say. “I have . . . gifts. They will aid me in getting you out.”

The girl's eyes narrow, while the others murmur behind her. “What gifts? Is this a trick?”

“I will show you, but be warned—it may shock you. Please, try not to scream. I don't want to alert the guards.”

The girls take several steps back. The brave one's eyes don't leave me for a second. Her hatred burns into my heart like a scalding flame.

I throw off my cloak.

My cramped wings spread wide, and my tail peeks around my thigh. Two girls faint. The rest gawk.

“You!” cries Delia, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You're the monster who haunts our dreams! You stole us!”

I swallow my despair. My own sister hates me. “Yes, I did. And I will steal you back if you'll let me.” I flutter forward, wishing to reassure her. A couple are brave like the dark-haired girl and don't flinch, but Delia and the rest tremble against the wall with terror.

“What are you?” cries the girl who challenged me. She positions herself in front of the others. I admire this girl's willingness to protect them. All I ever wanted to do for these girls was the very same. Perhaps in another life, we'd have been friends.

“I was made for the purpose of stealing you from Bryre.
I'm so sorry. I was deceived. I was told I was saving you. Now that I know it was all backwards, I'm determined to right my wrongs.”

The girls look skeptical—most of them downright terrified.

“I am here to help you escape, but I need your assistance. I need to know more about this palace, this room. When Ensel will feed the Sonzeeki again.”

The brave girl swallows hard, greener than a few moments ago. “If we get caught, Ensel will toss us all off the cliff, whether it's time or not.” A whisper rolls through the huddled crowd of girls.

“I won't let that happen.”

“Right. Just like you saved us before.” The brave girl straightens her back. “We don't need your help. We'll find our own way.”

My heart sinks into my tail. “Wait—”

“Don't bother,” she says. “I remember you. My brother is alone in Bryre because of what you've done. You're as evil as the wizard.”

I am too stunned to speak as the dark-haired girl herds the others to the far side of the large room. They refuse to say a word to me for the rest of the night.

I WAKE GROGGY AND DISORIENTED. I SIT UP, RUBBING MY SORE BACK. I AM
alone in my corner of the large room. The other girls remain as far from me as possible.

I've made no progress whatsoever. Every attempt to convince them I'm here to help has been ignored or vehemently brushed aside.

Frustration has made for a sleepless night. We must work together if we are to escape. My strength, flight, claws, and night vision will leave us stumbling in the dark without their knowledge of the palace and its routines. But I cannot force their trust. I cannot squeeze it out of them like I did information from Darrell.

No, their trust will have to be earned, but I haven't the faintest idea how.

Our time is spent in isolation. A few guards came by to bring us the meager leftovers from Ensel's banquets. I haven't eaten much. Despite the hunger that claws at my gut, I have no wish to tussle with the other girls over scraps. They are thinner than they ought to be—some dangerously so—and need all the food they can get.

This is what I condemned these girls to suffer.

Not all the girls remember me yet, as the venom wears off more slowly for some, but I remember every one of them. The girl with the straight, dark-brown hair who escaped Barnabas's tower and caused a ruckus in the yard. The red-haired one from that same night. Delia, with her dainty hands, bright hair, and flushed cheeks, now thin and pale from malnourishment. I wish my heart would leap with recognition at her face, but it doesn't. But now that I know the truth, I feel fiercely protective of her. Then there's the small child whose gold curls framing her face are unforgettable, though they are dull and limp now. She's the first one I took from Bryre. She threw away my roses. She missed her mother.

I steel myself to try once again to talk to the dark-haired girl. From her conversations with the others, I've learned her name is Greta. It suits her; her name sounds as fierce and determined as she is.

But before I can stand, the door to our prison flies open. A host of guards headed by Albin, the man in the gold-trimmed white tunic, stands in the doorway. The girls recoil.

The man smiles, but there is no mirth behind it. “Come along, girls. King Ensel has requested our new guest be given the grand tour.”

All eyes turn to me, and I'm grateful my cloak is around me. I showed these girls my real form, but this man does not know. I pray they don't give me away.

The guards tie our wrists together with harsh rope, then lead us out into the hallway. Finally, I will see some of this palace, and can form a real plan even if the girls won't help me. The guards don't take us back the way we came through the throne room. Instead we go right down a long hallway. The stone floor beneath my feet is rough, and several stones are loose. Delia walks in front of me and falls victim to the loose flooring. I help her up, but she cringes when my hand touches her elbow. The only thanks I get is a backward, fear-filled glance.

We're marched up a narrow stairwell. We pass landing after landing without pause; the climb feels interminable. Greta picks up the small girl with once-gold curls because she is too tired to keep going. I wonder how we'll get back down.

Or if we will go back down at all.

Finally we reach the top. It opens into a large circular room with stone walls and long window slits that open onto the fresh salty air. We shuffle in. From the looks on the girls' faces, this is not the first time they've been up here.

Several of King Ensel's men stand around the room, and I'm startled to see the king himself here too. He clearly isn't accustomed to much exercise, how could he have—

A hidden passage. There must be hidden passages in Belladoma like there were in Bryre. Hope billows in my chest, but I keep my face placid so it doesn't show. The
passage must not be too strenuous; otherwise King Ensel couldn't climb it all the way up here.

The seed of a plan sprouts in my mind.

Ensel clasps his hands together. “Girls, as you know, we had a visitor yesterday. A boy suffering from the ridiculous notion he could arrange a trade.” At a sign from Ensel, Albin steps forward and grabs ahold of Delia.

I stifle the scream in my throat. This is my sister. I will save them all, but, most importantly, her.

Delia doesn't look up. She keeps her eyes on the floor, her body trembling. She grew up in Bryre's palace; though she is no stranger to fear, she has never known treatment quite like this.

“This girl,” Ensel continues, “is apparently special.” Albin yanks Delia's hair, forcing her to look up. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “What is so special about you, my dear? Is that boy your brother? Your betrothed?” His eyes narrow. “Or is it something else?”

Horror creeps over me. Ensel can't discover she's Bryre's only living heir. She would be a valuable prize for the man who hates that city. Who knows what he'd do? Ransom her? Kill her outright so Bryre inevitably falls to ruin?

“I am not special, Your Majesty,” Delia whispers. Terror quivers in her voice. I can smell the fear in this room, rolling off the girls in waves.

“I do not believe you,” Ensel sneers. This time Albin drags Delia over to one of the long windows. My stomach turns. The man holds her up to the window by her hair and the back of her gown. She screams at first but then goes
utterly still. Her head is out the window, with nothing but the sheer drop onto the cliffs and the ocean below.

“Does this ring any bells for you, girl? Any idea why you are special now?” Ensel taunts.

I can stand it no longer. I've been working at the knots holding my wrists together since we started up the stairs, and now they're loose enough to move my hands. I leap forward to wrench Delia away from the white-clad guard. Albin is so stunned by my behavior that I have Delia away from the window and back with the other girls in a matter of seconds.

He advances toward me, growling and pulling out his sword. If I defend myself, I will have to show my hand, my beastliness, ruining our chance to escape.

A deep, throaty laugh ricochets off the walls of the high tower room, vaulting my heart into my throat. Albin halts, and looks back at his king.

“How poetic. That boy condemned you to death to save that little thing, and yet you put your own neck on the line for her?” He laughs again, but stops as suddenly as he started. With a nod to his guards, he says, “Take them back. My Sonzeeki will eat very well on the next full moon.” His eyes meet mine, then travel to Delia. “He will have two meals. Hopefully, he will find them satisfying.”

I stumble down the narrow stairwell after the other girls, numb from head to tail. I sneak a look back in time to see the king and several guards disappearing into the floor. I was right. There are passages here.

Now I just have to find them. Before the next full moon.

We are forced back to our prison chamber and each of us is unceremoniously shoved inside as they cut the ropes around our wrists. The door clicks behind us, and I settle on my cot to think.

“Thank you,” a soft voice says, startling me. Delia stands about five feet away, hovering like a frightened bird.

“You're welcome,” I say, but when I get to my feet she moves back. We're making progress, but I terrify her still. Part of me longs to tell her I'm her older sister brought back to life, but how could I prove such a thing when my memories of her are so ill formed? I've tried so hard to remember, and bits and pieces have surfaced, but not enough to prove it beyond doubt. I would lose any chance of the girls ever trusting me.

I may not recall what I felt for Delia before as her sister, but I'm growing strangely fond of the girl. She is innocent, and the way she helps look after the younger girls is rather sweet. I understand better why Ren was desperate to see her freed. I must protect her. Even if she hates me.

Now she casts her eyes at the floor and turns away. I'm close enough to grab her arm, but really, miles stand between us. I have more in common with my dragon brother than I do with my sister.

Several of the girls come forward, and Greta positions herself in front of Delia with folded arms. “What you did back there, that was . . . good of you.”

The girl with long black curls interrupts. “Why did you do it? What do you have to gain from helping us?”

My mouth drops open. “Why?” I echo. I hardly thought about it at the time; I simply acted. “I—I couldn't let them harm her. I told you, I am here to free you. All I wish to gain is our freedom.”

Greta eyes me appraisingly, but the black-haired girl next to her looks dubious.

“Why didn't you give me away to them? Tell them I am a monster?” I ask.

“It wasn't in our best interest,” Greta says, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

A fragile hope springs to life in my heart. “Does this mean you will work with me to escape?”

She frowns. “It won't be easy, and if we fail, we're all dead.”

“If we do not try, we are all dead anyway,” I say.

Greta smiles wryly. “We will have to take care not to get caught.”