Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 28
When Jackson doesn’t say anything, I cock an eyebrow at him. “You don’t seem shocked.”
His bravado falters for a moment, and I watch Dios move closer to him, as if drawn in by the emotions he’s casting out. He tucks his wings back into whatever invisible place they normally are and runs his hands through his hair. “She asked me to help her get in.” A low rumble from Drago has me eyeing him in the corner. “I said no at first. I didn’t want her anywhere near this, particularly given she was what he was looking for. But she told me what she saw, and it was enough to change my mind.”
Shadow crosses his arms over his chest. “What did she see?”
“The same thing my mother showed Kallen, I would imagine,” I respond.
Astrea closes her eyes and sighs heavily. “I knew she was hiding something, but she wouldn’t tell me. Most who have visions don’t share them with anyone for fear of it either coming true or changing drastically. But fuck, I wish she had given us something.” She looks to Jackson again. “She also said Oisin is searching for something called the Well.”
Jackson goes deathly still, his power freezing on his body for a split second before he takes a shuddering breath to pull it back in. His tan face pales as if all the blood has drained from it.
“What is it?” I ask.
He casts a glance at Dios, the two seeming to communicate something silently before he looks back to us. “I’ll get in touch with my contact, get us into one of the parties tonight. At least to get eyes on her. We can’t just rush the palace; even with the considerable magic we hold in this room, that wouldn’t go well.” He looks toward Shadow and Drago. “It can’t be you two going in to see her. I’m not having you do something idiotic and getting my sister killed. It’s got to be Astrea, and just Astrea. He’ll recognize the rest of us.”
“We are getting her out tonight,” Drago growls at the same time I yell, “Fuck that.”
Astrea steps forward into Drago’s space. “Look, I know you want your mate out. I get it. But if we do this wrong, we won’t just be losing the opportunity to rescue her, we’ll lose everything. Oisin will win, there is no question. I may not know the vision, but I know that much.” She turns toward me. “And you can’t go with me because he’ll know you. If I go in, there is no way he’ll have any idea who I am if I’m alone.”
“That’s a huge risk. He could know what you look like; plenty of witches do. Or what if Ava recognizes you and says something to him? You don’t know how much control she has over herself at this point,” I counter. Fear weaves through my body at the idea of sending her in alone, not because she isn’t powerful enough to level that whole palace, but because I know if push comes to shove, she’ll trade places with Ava in a heartbeat.
Shadow steps in, shoulder to shoulder with Drago. “We trust you, Astrea.”
It’s clear Shadow means it, but Drago pushes away from his mate, storming out of the room.
I just shake my head, feeling at a loss. “This is an awful idea.”
“And it’s the only one we got,” she responds before turning back to Jackson and Dios. “Tell me what to do.”
Astrea
(“Wicked (feat. Royal and the Serpent)” – Tommee Profitt)
Standing in the security line of the royal palace, I keep my face as passive as I can without inviting anyone to try and strike up a conversation with me. I tuck my hands in the pockets of my high-waisted black pants, a gold belt clasped in the front. My dark jacket is casually resting on my shoulders over the sheer bodysuit I have on. Onyx and Buttercup have woven themselves into the bodysuit, each resting a head on my chest, covering my tits. All round me, people are in dresses of every variety, but I am tired of being caught in fights with a dress on, so on the off chance I must fight tonight, I wanted to be able to have full range.
“Name?” the man at the door asks, breaking into my thoughts. I plaster on a seductive smile, batting my eyelashes and twirling the ends of my long straight hair. His eyes travel over my body, and I see hunger flare in them. Gotcha. Ever so slowly, I pull the invitation out from my jacket, making sure to brush it across my chest before handing it to him and purposefully allowing my jacket to slip off my shoulders, fully exposing my bare arms and the plunging V of the body suit.
“I believe you’ll find everything you need in that,” I purr.
He gulps and licks his lips before opening the invite. To anyone else, the small poof of dust from the envelope would look like nothing, but the moment he breathes it in, the magical compound swarms him. A wicked, devious smile steals across my red-painted lips.
“Am I free to pass?” I ask my new puppet. He nods, mindlessly. “Good boy,” I murmur and pat my hand on his chest. “Walk with me, will you?”
I slip my arm through his as he whistles to another guard to take his spot checking people in. “Now, my little friend, what's your name?” I ask as he leads me toward the entrance.
“Kyle,” he says blandly.
“Well, that won’t do—it’s, oh, so boring. How about Bartholomew?”
He grunts his acceptance.
Leaning in to avoid being overheard, I press my mouth to his ear. “Now, my dear Bartholomew, I would just love to meet the future queen. Do you think you can get me to her?” He nods, a groan escaping him at our close contact. “Wonderful! And if you are an extra good boy for me, I’ll make sure to reward you.”
Bart winds us through the outside of the crowd that has gathered in the grand entrance of the palace. Unlike Alexi’s compound, this looks more like a nightclub than a palace. The room to the right is built like a casino: card tables and electronic machines attract all types of people as they are tempted to try their luck. A thick layer of smoke hanging over the entire room creates an enticing haze for people who might want to hide their devious actions. Another room holds a dance floor, lasers skillfully decorating the air above those dancing. Bodies gyrate in cages and on platform stages. And on every wall, there seems to be a bar offering up any number of libations.
I watch as a man does a line of white powder off the chest of a small female. Just beyond them, I watch a couple pass crimson smoke between their lips as they kiss. People laugh loudly as they push by, spilling champagne from their overfilled cups. It’s the picture of hedonism.
We move up into the thick crowd that’s attempting to move through the magic and metal detectors. “Bartholomew, I would prefer not to go through those. Be a gem and get us around that.” He doesn’t answer but gives a curt nod. He walks to the edge of the room, bringing me along with him, still on his arm, and flashes his badge when we reach the velvet ropes that keep people in line and security able to control the crowd.
“Need to pass,” he says. The man who reads his badge looks between us, and I make a show of pressing my chest against Bart’s arm. A bashful smile is all I have to give, and it’s easy for the other workers to believe he’s bringing me back here to fuck. The man in front of us smirks and jerks his head for us to move through.
“Hey, baby.” He grabs my arm, pulling us up short. “Maybe after he’s done, you come find me.”
I take a deep breath in a desperate attempt to restrain myself from unleashing on him. I am once again reminded how men feel entitled to everything and anyone. Not trusting myself to speak, I simply smile and give him a wink before Bart drags me forward, bypassing the security that would surely have detected my daggers, hidden tonight against my lower back.
(“Shadowboxer” – Fiona Apple)
Bart pushes past the loudest areas until we are walking down a long corridor that has more cameras and security than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Gods, Alexi didn’t even have this much in his prison. It’s not lost on me that if something happens, there is no plausible way I’m escaping back down this hallway. The path toward the VIP room is decorated with windows every other step. Some have people behind them, some have animals. It’s disgusting. Every single one of them looks either high or deeply unhappy. The floor is a dark red marble that produces an eerie glow in the low light cast by golden chandeliers. In its entirety, it’s unnerving and feels as if I’ve just fallen down a rabbit hole.
“VIP guests are brought in early. No one is allowed in or out until the end of the party once it begins.”
Taking a deep breath, I can barely scent the warding layered into the architecture around us. It’s clever spell work, and now that I’m over the threshold, I’m trapped in its web.
Fuck. This was not part of the fucking plan.
Bart leads us through two giant golden doors that stretch from floor to ceiling. The scent of Eufori hits me immediately when I step into the giant room. My senses are overwhelmed as I take it all in. On the edges of the room, platforms stand just above the crowd with women dancing with fire, and every few moments, one blows a giant fireball. Coming down from the ceiling are acrobats who swing on silks and hoops, drawing the eyes of the crowd when they do something particularly daring. People are laughing and dancing, drinking, and smoking. In the dark corners, I think I even see some people fucking. It’s everything one would think of the city of sin. And there, directly at the end of the long path we are standing on, sits Ava atop Oisin’s lap.
FORTY-TWO
We will not allow them to gain access to the Well.
We will protect this secret at all costs.
Even at the cost of our own lives.
– Priestess Codex
Astrea
(“The Tradition” – Halsey)
I release Bart’s arm so I don’t drop him with the power surge as I see my friend with that gods damn collar around her neck. One of Oisin’s hands wanders while the other is lodged firmly under her skirt. Her eyes hold a vacancy, the silver dull and lifeless. Her once pink hair is a muted blonde, the limp strands contrasting the vibrant hair of my memory.
“Miss?” Bart taps me on the shoulder. “Will you be needing anything else?”
Ripping my eyes away from the scene, I focus my attention on him. “When is this over?”
He shrugs. “When His Grace says it is.”
That was not what I wanted to hear.
“Okay, thank you, Bart. You can go back to your post, but remember not to tell anyone I’m here, okay?” I say sweetly. He gives a curt nod and leaves.
Taking another breath, I move toward the outside of the crowd. There is no way I can walk directly up to Ava, but I can at least get close enough to try to catch her eye. Ciaran had been against her seeing me, but I had promised Shadow I would do what I could to see how she was doing before I left, so I am taking a risk. A very fucking calculated risk.
Onyx and Buttercup vibrate against my body as if they, too, can sense just how risky this endeavor has suddenly become. Weaving through couples and groups, I finally land off to the corner of the great dais Oisin erected to hold the massive thrones. Casually, I grab a drink from a waiter passing by and push my free hand into my pocket. Taking a sip, I walk out of the shadows, allowing my eyes to move up to catch Ava’s.
Her vacant expression guts me to the core. My once vivid friend looks as if her life has been sucked from her. Dark circles pop out against her skin at this proximity. The sheer dress they’ve put her in shows how much weight she’s lost. Oisin is currently peppering her shoulder with sloppy kisses. I want to vomit and impale him on one of my daggers. Her silver eyes scan the room and when they land on me, it’s the first flare of life I’ve seen. True fear passes through them. I hold her gaze for a moment, then two, before she leans in and whispers to Oisin.
“Ah, Harbinger, I was hoping you’d come.” Without even looking at me, Oisin stops the whole room in one single sentence.
Ciaran
I watch the glittering lights of the palace from the rooftop Drago, Shadow, and I are perched on. My anxiety presses in harder every moment Astrea is gone past when she was supposed to check in. The plan was simple. She was to get in and out. No more than an hour. Certainly not for the two hours that have slowly ticked by. Jackson and Dios left after an hour, saying something about attempting to contact the person he has stationed within the palace. But it’s doing nothing to help my fear.
“We shouldn’t have agreed to this,” Drago grumbles, all but ripping his hair out as he paces. “We should have just fucking stormed that place and burned it to the ground. Dealt with the aftermath later.”
The clicking of a lighter pulls my attention toward Shadow. The zippo opens and closes every few seconds, as if to quell whatever is pushing through his system. I turn my back on them and walk back to the edge, peering down at the crowds that haven’t dissipated.
“She should have been out by now,” I growl.
A deep sense of dread fills me, choking the air from my lungs and turning my stomach repeatedly. I can’t help but feel like we made a colossal error allowing her into that place with Ava.
FORTY-THREE
We met with the Lady of Souls today. She was not provided the ritual, but she knows enough that should they take one of the young, she could help her.
It kills me to write this, to know one of our own will be without support.
– Priestess Codex
Ava
(“Iris” – Tommee Profitt and Ruelle)
The world around me feels as though I’m interacting with it underwater. I’m aware of what’s happening and yet unable to stop it. As though I’ve been severed from my physical form, I’m watching my body move without my permission. I miss Buttercup now; the desire to send her away was truly out of preservation for her. With the collar around me, I had no guarantee Oisin couldn’t use her, or worse, access all of Astrea’s magic through her. Sending her away was what needed to happen, but now I am well and truly alone.
I am their puppet, controlled by a golden leash, its influence leeching my will away with each pull of my magic. Oisin has pushed the limits of what he can do, and my body has bent to his every whim. It's as though I’m permanently in a state of dissociation. Apathy washes over me like thick oil coating a surface. I’m not sure I’ll return from this. The fantasy of falling from the high window of my room flits through my mind regularly. I suddenly have more understanding of Shadow after these past few days. Frowning, I realize I don’t know if it’s been weeks or months since I last saw my mates. Even the grief of losing them has been cut off from me, drowning in that thick oil on the other side of that glass wall between my halves.
All around me, people laugh and smile, and I can’t remember what that feels like at this point. My eyes move over the crowd robotically, until they catch a familiar head of hair, for just a moment. My heart skips a beat, causing the smallest of fissures in the glass, and feelings suddenly begin seeping through from that glass room they’ve been shoved into. It can’t be. I drag my attention back to Oisin, who is allowing his hand to roam freely. Everywhere those fingers go becomes the path of a sickly fever burning its way through me.
Shifting on his lap, I feel the bone of my corset bite into my ribs. The gown I am dressed in tonight is objectively beautiful: the corset bodice is whirls of white lace with rose-gold patterns under it that bleed down into the white tulle skirt. A gold chain goes from the center of the breastplate up to a neck piece that covers the collar fully and flares out over my shoulders. The gold chain jets out across the chest to attach to the shoulder pieces, and off the arms flows more white tulle.
Tonight is our engagement party; we are to wed tomorrow. Fear, real fear, pools deep in me as it slowly trickles out of that small fissure in the glass wall that holds my true self back.
Because despite attempting to change the future, I’ve still ended up here. Ended up dooming us all because Oisin now has my magic. And if I could, I would scream in agony, knowing what happens at the end of it all. Because no matter how hard I fought taking the path unknown, I am somehow still barreling toward an ending that will break us all.
When I turn to reach for my champagne, I see two green eyes looking at me, fear and anger and sadness swimming in them. More emotion pushes through that fissure, making it a full crack now as I take in my friend. Astrea. Relief courses through me, followed swiftly by deep, horrifying fear that the Harbinger has walked right into this place.
I feel it the moment he takes control, my body snapping up to attention, a puppet being pulled by its master. My mouth moves to his ear without permission. He sips off my magic like one would sip off a fine wine, before he lets out a low laugh. “Ah, Harbinger, I was hoping you would come.”
(“Shattered Dreams (feat. VE)” – Hidden Citizens)
The room goes silent, everyone turning to look at my friend, who has kept her eyes firmly locked on me. She looks sad, as if she knows I had no choice but to betray her. I want to scream, tell her to run, but my voice is locked down now; Oisin has me firmly under his control.
Astrea’s magic unfolds around her, those two snakes ghosting from her body to form next to her. “Give me my friend back.” Her voice is hard, no waver, no fear.
Oisin smiles, shifting me off his lap. “You are in over your head, Harbinger. You are alone here.”
Astrea laughs, the sound echoing through the room. “If you think I need my mate to help take you down, you're sadly mistaken.” Her dark magic is all around her, dark mist weaving through her fingers. “So, this is your last chance. Give me my friend back.”
The pull from my magic is instant as Oisin sends it out toward Astrea, and a cry is yanked from me as I physically feel the drain. It smashes into a shield of Astrea’s magic, but Oisin just takes more and more from me, pummeling magic into the shield around my friend, trying to break through.
“You’ll kill me if you keep going,” I manage to say between gasps of breath. “I don’t have enough magic.” The glass wall cracks a little more, my true self pushing harder against it.
