Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 26
“Fucking Hell,” I grumble. I need to get back above ground. Reaver told me not to come down here alone, to meet my contact anywhere else. Even went so far as to say he would come with. His bulky six-foot frame of thick muscle was intimidating enough even without his magic. Reaver’s rich toffee skin gives him away for being from the southern part of my kingdom. He is powerful, the most powerful of his kind. We met shortly after my sister fled and Oisin disappeared, when he pulled me out of a bar fight and refused to leave my side after.
An annoyingly handsome, tattooed, black-haired man who is now the only family I have left. But did I listen to my friend? To his insistence on coming with me? No. Of course not, because I always have to be fucking stubborn. Before I ran into all these demon scum, my plan was to look around and then meet my contact, who’s placed in the palace right now, to alert her of my sister's impending arrival. When Ava told me her plan, including her vision, I didn’t want to agree. But in the end, she reminded me she would go with or without my help. If I’m stubborn, my sister is an unyielding mountain when she makes a plan. Now, I’ll have two people in the palace I need to fucking worry about.
The shrill call of another Carnargion demon summons my attention toward it, away from my anxiety around my sister being subjected to Oisin. “Fuck this,” I growl. I slip my sword into its holder straight down my spine. My wings, still tucked tightly against my body, under a glamor, brush against the cool blade. You learn early on wings don’t belong in a battle that is close quarters.
My magic pulses at my fingertips, crackling black lightning echoing over my body. A low thrum vibrates through the tunnel as I unleash myself. My power pulses through the inky blackness, liquifying everything it touches. Screams are cut short, the very essence of each being eradicated from all realms in a blink. In a matter of seconds, the tunnel goes silent, save for my heavy breathing. I wince as I feel my magic drain a little more. Oisin slaughtered all but one priestess and replaced the dead with his own people, who know nothing about the actual ceremony. Given the one priestess I know who would be willing to do the ceremony for me is stuck in the palace, I’ve avoided using my magic lately.
A crack behind me has me whirling, pulling my sword from its sheath, my vision blurring at the quick movement after the drain on my magic. Through the darkness, a light shines, pure white light. The closer it gets, the brighter it gets, causing me to shield my eyes until it dims to a point that I can drop my hand.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I take in the familiar silver hair and violet eyes peeking out from the dark, hooded cloak pulled tight around the newcomer. Her slender hand holds a small ball of light tucked into the palm. It’s been years since I laid eyes on her; all our conversations happen via coded messages. Years since that argument about her going back into The Order. It was a risk asking her to meet me today, but despite that, I couldn’t allow this to go through even a coded message.
She doesn't say anything, doesn't move to take off the cloak, and instead just stares.
Dropping the tension from my shoulders, I offer a smile and take a step forward. “It’s so good to see you. I know it's a risk for you to meet me in person—thank you for coming. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” Her violet eyes track me as she gives me a slight nod. The only sounds between us are the drip of water and my echoing voice. “My sister, she's coming into the palace. If she’s not already there. I need you to help keep an eye on her. Assist her in whatever you can, but do not endanger yourself in the process. Do not let her know you are with me, either; we can’t risk Oisin figuring it out somehow.”
I pause, breathing deeply. Just below the stench of the sewer is her scent. An intoxicating mix of a cold morning and crisp ocean air. “We need to get you out soon. I promise before the full moon, it’ll happen. You’ll be free.”
I briefly flash back to when I first met her, fresh from running from The Order and wide-eyed as she took in the races. We found each other at a time when we had both lost so much. She had spent her whole life with them before finally escaping, only to return as my eyes and ears. Fuck, do I hate the position that she’s in. Hate that she isn’t out and free like she should be. She deserves so much more, deserves the freedom she was never granted.
She doesn’t say anything, and keeps the hood closed tightly around her face. I narrow my eyes, taking a step forward, closer to her. Taking another deep breath, I find that below her normal scent is fear. A tinge of it, barely a whisp, as if she is trying to hide it from me. A low growl emits from my throat. “What is going on?” We may not have seen each other for years at this point, but she’s never feared me, and she’s never been this quiet.
Her violet eyes fill with dread and her hands seem to white-knuckle the dark fabric, as if it’s a lifeline for her.
“Drop the cloak,” I command. She shakes her head, the movement drawing some loose hair into her face. “Drop. The. Cloak.”
Still, she doesn’t. Closing the distance between us in a move too quick to perceive, I’m in her face, my hand pulling at the fabric. A muffled shout of protest comes from her throat, but it’s too late. I zero in on the torturous device affixed over her mouth. Crude brass bolts are screwed into her jaw, holding the piece of metal in place. There is no way for the mask to open. For her to talk or eat or drink.
Panic bleeds into my body as I look her over. As if sensing my alarm, she holds out her hand, pointing to a vein as if to show me this is where she gets hydration, followed by pointing to a very small hole in the mask at the base that would barely fit a straw. “I never should have let you go back,” I say. My voice shakes, my power rumbles and skips over my skin. “I should have told you no, should have said we’d find a different way. I was young and an idiot to think you wouldn’t get hurt.”
Ever so carefully, she raises her hands and pulls my forehead to hers. Casually resting them together as if to tell me it’s okay. To soothe me. I keep my eyes locked on hers. Her eyes crinkle at me like they would if she were smiling before she taps her head lightly against mine. She drops her hands, grabs my own, and squeezes them before stepping back. Pulling the hood of her cloak back up, she gives me a subtle nod, as if I am the one currently bound in a torture device.
“Don’t go back.” The words are out before I can take them back. She gives a sad shake of her head, so much emotion swimming in those luminous violet eyes.
I stay in the tunnel long after she leaves, before I finally explode and it all goes dark.
THIRTY-EIGHT
When a priestess comes of age, twenty-one, she will enter her first Heat Cycle. This will allow her body to channel the magic from the Well to the royals.
– Priestess Codex
Ava
I scan the crowd that has gathered in front of the dais that Oisin has us seated upon, all nobles that swore allegiance to my family at one time or another. They seem to believe whatever bullshit lies Oisin has been spreading. The first evening he introduced us, I hoped I would find an ally in the crowd, but no one has given any indication they see me as anything other than their new queen. I commit all of them to memory so when this is over, I can help my brother hunt them down.
Oisin stole our ancestral home in the heart of the city. The palace never truly felt like home, but now it feels even worse. The room we currently sit in is considered a VIP room, at the end of a lengthy corridor that leaves no space for threats to Oisin to hide. Even if someone got down the hallway with ill intent, no one is allowed to leave before Oisin deems it appropriate. The first night he brought me out, I watched a young performer try to sneak away. Her body was incinerated the second she touched the wards.
Those are courtesy of the Mori grimoire.
Harrowlena is my only support, a silent presence that gives me reassurance whenever I start to forget why I’m here. But she’s been missing for a few days now. Instead, I’ve been stuck with Pearl and the others. None of whom care to tell me where the young priestess is. After two weeks of being here, I can’t bring myself to enjoy their company any more than I could the very first day.
I stare out blank-faced. Oisin sitting next to me is ever the picture of a devoted fiancé as he holds my hand. Acrobats dangle from the ceiling on silks, servers pass around food and drinks, people dance and sing and laugh. They seem willing to live in the bliss of being favored by Oisin as opposed to remaining loyal to my brother. A numbness has settled over me since coming here, and I fear the longer I stay here, the longer I’m away from my mates, the worse this feeling will become. Mates are not meant to be separated this long. Particularly mates of dragons.
I’ve slipped into the role of the pretty little doll so seamlessly next to him, not unlike what I did for my father all those years ago. Tonight, I’ve been dressed in a white wrap dress. The material crisscrosses over my breasts before it wraps down into a long, flowing skirt with slits up the side. My scar is on full display, painting a story of the savage nature of the dragons. It’s a narrative I’ve been forced to sell.
“I can’t believe what they did to you,” a noblewoman says as she sips her drink in front of us, her husband deep in conversation with Oisin, who keeps his grip tight on my hand.
“Mhmm,” I murmur, bringing my other hand up to itch under the golden collar I wear. Once it was locked onto my neck that first night, Pearl refused to remove it. When I questioned Oisin about it, he simply said it was his version of a wedding ring. The golden leash is always within reach of him. It's humiliating and uncomfortable.
“Ava.” His voice is like oil and makes me feel sick. I look over at him in question as he pats his lap. “Come sit.”
I pause for a moment, wrapping my head around the part I need to keep playing, before I stand and move over to him. I lower myself onto his lap slowly. His one hand splays against my bare midriff, while the other traces up and down my arm, his arousal growing with every moment.
“She really is beautiful,” the lord in front of us says.
“And she can hear you,” I snap. Oisin tenses, but only for a moment before he chuckles and plants a kiss on my shoulder. The lord looks outraged. After all, little dolls don’t use their pretty little mouths to talk back.
“She is correct, she can hear you,” he purrs. “My fiancée certainly has a tongue on her that I will enjoy putting to good use.” The two laugh, and while I’m ready to rip him apart, I can only smile sweetly and lean back further into his touch. My stomach rolls with every moment his hands are on me, and as he continues to kiss my exposed skin, I have to keep swallowing the vomit down. They’ll forgive me. I will get out of here, and they will forgive me.
“I don’t know how you’ve waited,” the other man sneers as his gaze roams over my body, pulling me from the mantra that feels more like a silent prayer now.
Oisin runs his fingers up and down my arm, a gesture that I loved from Drago. From Oisin, it makes me want to snap his fingers. “I have someone who keeps me company at night,” he replies. Guilt moves over me at being thankful it’s not me, because I’m certain it’s Harrow he speaks of.
“Your Grace,” a light-sounding voice sweeps in, disrupting his lips from polluting my skin.
Lady Ornate comes into view. Her white dress covers her from neck to ankle and flows out behind her. Her shoulders are decorated with gold embroidery and the long sleeves cling to her arms, coming into golden cuffs at her wrists. Atop her blonde hair, she wears a crown of golden whirls that has a mask attached to cover her eyes. If she were a true high priestess, she would lower the mask when she receives a vision.
She bows low in front of us. “Ah, Lady Ornate, thank you for joining us.” Oisin motions for her to get up. Her eyes track him hungrily before sweeping to me, still perched on his lap. Disdain flashes across her features before she controls them. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since she and Cordelia brought me to Hell.
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it.” She steps aside and motions for Harrow to come forward. They've dressed her down to try and hide her beauty, but even in the plain beige dress and metal mask, she is radiant. Her violet eyes grab mine, and I try my best to convey my worry over not seeing her. I hope she is okay.
“Harrowlena agreed to accompany me tonight as well. As you know, her time is coming near, so I will be keeping a very close watch on her,” she says as she keeps her eyes glued to Oisin. His eyes, however, shift directly to the young girl and seem to light up in wicked delight.
“Of course.” He pushes me up and out of his lap, forcing me to sit back in my own chair. “Come up here for a moment.”
The girl doesn’t move, her body frozen until Lady Ornate pushes her forward. She stumbles up toward Oisin, and from my seat, I can see her body trembling, as if she is holding herself back. Oisin drags a finger up her arm before he lands on her chin, tipping her face up to meet his eyes. “Yes, I can smell how it is near. Are you ready to receive the great honor of becoming my high priestess?” Oisin smiles. “Good. I look forward to having you in my service fully.” He gestures back to me. “Ava will, of course, be present to witness and participate, should I require it.”
My entire body is vibrating with rage, so much so that I can feel Buttercup shift slightly on my leg. As if the snake is debating bursting off my body. “Tell me,” I start, “how will she be doing all this with that contraption on her face? Surely, you can remove it.”
The high priestess shoots me a withering look, but Oisin, as smooth as ever, smiles at me. “Harrowlena learned a very long time ago she cannot be trusted with the mask off. Should I need a warm mouth, you’ve already shown tonight you are more than equipped to handle it.” The implication is clear as day. Around us, people shift and laugh at his bold statement. I can do nothing but sip on the sweet drink that a server handed to me.
Harrowlena bows and backs away from Oisin and me, her eyes catching mine again briefly. I hope I convey how sorry I am that she is in this position.
Oisin claps his hands. “So glad we are all getting along. Now that the high priestess has returned, we can move forward with the wedding.” He rises to stand. “Friends! Family!” His voice booms across the great ballroom. “I want to thank you for coming to celebrate the return of my lovely fiancée these past weeks. It’s been difficult these past few years not knowing where she was.” Murmurs of understanding and sympathy ripple through the crowd.
Weeks without Drago or Shadow. I can feel my sanity slipping further from me every day I’m here. And I only have myself to blame, given I freely walked into this. To save them. To save Astrea and Ciaran. To save them all.
Oisin’s drawling voice pushes back into my head as he grips my hand and pulls me to stand beside him. “But now that she is returned, we don’t want to waste a precious moment in starting our new life together.” He squeezes my hand tightly. “After all, we want to get a move on making an heir to the throne.” Laughter bubbles through the crowd as if it’s an inside joke.
Panic lodges in my chest at the words. Panic that I won’t get out in time. I drink down more of the wine, hoping it’ll ease the urge to vomit all over the dais. The liquid is strangely bitter now that I’ve reached the bottom.
“The invitations have gone out; in two weeks, we will wed. In front of all of you. What better way to celebrate her return to me and her family!”
Oisin steps back and grips me overly hard by the back of my neck, smashing his face into mine, his tongue worming its way into my mouth. Cheers from the crowd go up, and the wine threatens to come up from my stomach.
He pulls away, his hands lingering on my body. “But an early wedding gift for my lovely bride!” he shouts out across the cheers.
Someone moves up toward us as he turns back to the crowd, and shock ripples through my body as I take in my mother’s face. She looks the exact same as when I left all those years ago, plus a few more wrinkles. Her ash-blonde hair is pulled up tight on her head, silver eyes mirroring mine above the sneer painted across her face, but only I can see it before she turns around and addresses the crowd with a smile.
“My sweet Ava has finally been returned. Now, we can work on joining our two families and place the one true king on the throne.” If anyone had doubts about Oisin, they wouldn’t with the backing of the former queen. I never should have come here alone. “Oisin has been the son I always wanted to have; he has been a steady hand in these dark times. The betrayal of Jackson murdering my husband took a heavy toll on me.” Her eyes mist over, and I want to laugh at the audacity she has. “This will finally be over once Oisin marries Ava. Once she carries the next line. How lucky we are that she came home to us so willingly.”
She looks at me with that last line, a wicked, cruel, knowing smile spreading over her thin face. My mother may be evil incarnate, but she is smart, she can read people, and judging by how she is looking at me, I know she can see how tense I am. My jig is up. There is no way she hasn’t told Oisin I’m lying.
Terror moves through me, pushing me to run. As if sensing it, Oisin pulls me to his side, hands digging into my hips as he holds me slightly in front of him. “If everyone would please head out to the gardens, my soon-to-be wife and I will retire for the evening.” He places a lingering kiss on my neck before licking the mating claim that Drago left. “After all, we need to rest up for a busy wedding night.” The crowd cheers again, laughter echoing at his joke, and I see my own mother clapping and smiling along with them.
My head swims, and I stumble, the golden leash pulling taut as the party whirls in front of me. My mother moves forward, blocking me from the crowd as my body wobbles again. My limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated.
“What’s happening?” I slur, my tongue and mouth refusing to cooperate. I can’t seem to keep myself standing upright, and suddenly, I’m on my back on the cool marble floor.
“Oh, Ava. You never were bright. You really should learn to detect magic within things.” Her wicked smile is the last thing I see before the world goes dark.
