Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 4
“It’s nothing,” I say, steeling myself against the tears that want to pour down my face. I will not cry in front of him. Safety is an illusion in Hell, and no one, especially not Oisin, will get my tears.
“You’re clearly drunk,” he growls. Pulling me into the light, he takes note of the small skirt and even smaller top I’m wearing. His eyes track over my smeared make up and messed-up hair. The whole picture finally clicks for him. “Are you really that stupid? I hope it was a good fuck, because you won’t be leaving this place again.”
The statement hits me hard. I shake my head, cheeks flooding with the heat of embarrassment. “Please don’t tell Jackson.” Learning what happened would only reinforce the idea that I shouldn’t be allowed out alone. His fingers tighten on me. “Oisin, ow! Let me go.”
“Ossy, I thought you were coming—” My brother’s best friend, Arcanna, comes to a full stop when she sees me standing there, Oisin’s hands on my body, my panicked expression. Her green eyes narrow in on the hold he has on my hips before they sweep back up to my face.
He drops his hands, pushing away from me quickly. “She’s fucking drunk. Went out and got laid finally.” His voice is laced with a cruelty that has my eyes stinging.
My body suddenly starts to shake, the adrenaline crashing out of me now that Arcanna is here. Three years older than me, she has always felt like the older sister I always wanted. “P-p-pl-lease, you can’t tell Jax,” I say through chattering teeth.
Her slender body pushes Oisin aside, her long black hair brushing against my arm. “If you don’t want to tell Jackson, we won’t.” She glances behind at Oisin. “Will we?”
“Don’t tell Jackson what?” my brother’s voice floods the kitchen. I don’t bother turning to face him as I watch Oisin track his movements behind me, and Arcanna cringes a little. My brother’s golden frame comes into view as he plants a kiss on his lover’s cheek. The two couldn’t be more opposite. Jackson, the model surfer boy with his blond hair and golden skin. Oisin has shaggy black hair and a jagged scar cutting through his left eye. They’ve been close our whole lives, and Arcanna joined their duo when her mother and father moved onto the palace grounds as an advisor and healer to our court.
When Jax finally turns to look at me, his face becomes livid as he takes in my appearance. No doubt, the scent of alcohol is pouring out of me as I start sweating under his scrutiny. Darkness descends upon the kitchen. In the distance, thunder rumbles. My brother’s face goes grave, his eyes shifting to black. The scent of a storm floods the kitchen around us.
Arcanna and Oisin wisely step to the side, though even from this angle, I can see Arcanna frowning at my brother, her brows pulled tight.
“What did you do?” The question hangs heavy in the air. A line has been drawn. Regardless of my answer, I know I’ll never leave this house unguarded again. I know tomorrow, if I check that passage, it’ll be sealed shut.
“Jax . . .” Arcanna starts, but he shakes his head, cutting her with a look that would make anyone else shrink back. But not her. She grinds her teeth and levels with him a glare.
“No. I told her not to go. So, she gets to live with the knowledge that I've slaughtered the person who touched her.” His anger wraps around us in the kitchen.
“Fuck you, Jax. It’s not wrong that I want to live my life a little!” I grind my teeth down, anger pulsing through my body. “You have everything you could want, friends that get to stay with you here. I have nothing. I’ve never even had a boyfriend! I wanted a normal fucking night!”
“You're a spoiled brat. You have a duty to this family, and you jeopardized that by going out—alone, I might add—tonight. If someone hears you’ve been whoring around, that could damage all of us.” The poisonous words drip into the thick air around us.
A gasp emits from Arcanna. “Jackson, you fucking ass,” she mutters.
Jackson holds my stare before his face softens. “Look, Ava—” he starts.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I can’t hold them back. “No.” I take a deep breath. “You are no better than Mother or Father at this point. So, stop pretending you care about me as a sister. You’ve made it clear what I am to you now.” Spinning on my heel, I race out of the hallway as quickly as I can, Jackson yelling after me that it’s for my own good to stay guarded. To stay home.
And sure, maybe it would seem that way to him. Or anyone.
But the prince of Hell will never understand what it feels like to be the princess. From the outside, I look like I live a beautiful life. But once you get in close, you realize it’s nothing but a gilded cage meant to hold me until my father decides what he wants from me. My virginity and my body are the only usefulness I have for the kingdom.
It’s in this moment that I know my decision to put my needs first was correct, to no longer allow others to control my story and push their agenda. Even if it means I have to leave my home, I’m fucking creating my own story. I steel my back and drop the clothes I was wearing, no longer cowering in my own skin, and step into the piping-hot shower. The steam billows up around me as I allow my new resolve to soak in.
Shadow
(“From the Inside” – Linkin Park)
I see the warehouse burning through my dragon’s eyes. The wharf is completely engulfed in flames and thick smoke. The heat alone is enough to melt the structures that haven’t yet fallen to the streams of lava that pour from my mouth. The witches are scrambling to put the fire out, but their water magic is doing nothing against the anarchy I’ve caused. The oranges and reds stand out vividly against the backdrop of the dark city of Gothic Grove.
My dragon still feels annoyed at the collar we wear, but he enjoys the freedom Alexi allows. Enjoys the pandemonium and death we unleash every time we are allowed out of the aviary he keeps us in. Screams echo out into the inky night as I launch into the air, my black-and-gold body swooping over the witches like the physical manifestation of a plague sent to kill them. And maybe that’s what I am, at this point.
My massive body comes to land in front of a group of witches fleeing the scene. Their faces covered in soot, some are already crying, the tracks easily seen. Others are preparing to fight, determination not to be taken on their faces. I shift down into my human form, my dragon slipping away. “Do not make me kill you,” I grind out. My fists are wreathed in flame and a portal opens behind me, the massive stone prison that Alexi runs directly on the other side. I see one witch step backward, as if to run, but I send out my flames around us. No one is escaping with their life.
Vampires file out of the opening and grab the witches quickly; despite their magic, these witches are not powerful enough to take on this many vampires. As the last woman is shoved through, the vampire turns toward me. “Alexi says to leave no other survivors.” I don’t say anything, don’t acknowledge the command or the feeling that it gives me to think of killing the remaining witches and shifters.
My flames drop as the vampire steps back through my portal. My skin crawls as I crack my neck and prepare to feed the other beast that lives within me. One that is scarier than my dragon, because it’s not a supernatural creature. It’s just my own personal lust for death and destruction.
I allow a partial shift, my eyes golden, claws and teeth coming out. I look at my bare arms and the scars that decorate them. Tonight, I’ll be adding more, one for every person whose blood quenches the need here. I take a deep breath and lose myself to the blood lust.
Ava
(“Labor” – Paris Paloma)
My eyes gaze out over the crowd collected in our home. The receiving room is a large, open, marble-floored area with giant columns supporting it. Banquet tables line the outer edges of the room and servers move about offering drinks to the people who have joined us. People of all genders mingle within, dressed as if they are going to a club. But instead of access to a club, they’ve all managed to secure a coveted spot to see my father yell at his advisors.
“This is unacceptable! How have these people stayed hidden so long? Find them!”
My father’s advisors shake in fear before his rage. The Order of Infernal Sin has been a thorn in his side for as long as I can remember; recently, however, they’ve become bold in their quest to remove him from his throne.
“Y-Your Grace,” an elderly advisor stammers, a sheen of sweat making his gray hair stick to his forehead. “The Order has gotten larger; we are doing everything we can—”
A wave of my father’s power moves through the room, and screams erupt as the man in front of him bursts into a bloody mess on the floor. Nervous laughter and gasps erupt from the crowd. My stomach rolls.
“Find The Order! Eradicate them!” he seethes to his remaining advisors. They utter promises I know will only result in more death. If they could have found The Order, they would have. I glance toward my father, sitting on his gaudy throne with my mother directly to his right. Jackson sits just to the left of him, while I’m planted firmly off to the side, not in line with the other chairs but set off alone next to the window, where sunlight can leak in like a mockery of heavenly rays.
A pretty little package, the perfect picture of obedience. Tonight, my mother has me dressed in a tight bodice that is the color of blood, the lace whirls moving from the corset into the flowing skirts that match in color. My blonde hair is pulled up high in a tight updo that is making my head pound, but the thick makeup on my face doesn’t allow me to rub at my temples. As much as I love to party, I have no interest in going to the party that will follow this. I want nothing more than to take my hair down and wipe the makeup off my face.
I shift my gaze to my brother, who is dressed comfortably, his dark linen shirt and pants exposing his muscled body. His golden skin is so at odds with my own alabaster white. The running joke between him and his friends is, I’m not his shadow, I’m his ghost. We haven’t spoken since the other night; I’ve avoided him to the best of my ability. This life has been killing me, I just didn’t realize it until Jackson snapped at me.
He offers a smile to Oisin, who is seated with Arcanna toward the front of the dais my family sits on. Oisin’s dark features brighten when he sees my brother's smile. He attempts to offer one to Arcanna, but it falters briefly, like someone tripping and regaining their footing. Arcanna, however, keeps her face oddly blank. She’s been distant with all of us recently, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. I look back to Oisin, and a strange look passes over his face when our eyes lock, but it quickly winks out and he returns his gaze to my brother.
“Lady Ornate,” my father’s booming voice echoes out, and Arcanna’s mother comes forward. Her long periwinkle skirt brushes the floor, and when she bends forward in a curtsy, her breasts can be seen peeking through the lace turtleneck under the corset she wears. Her hair is thick and dark as night, just like Arcanna’s, but her eyes hold none of the warmth that our friend’s normally do.
“Your Grace,” she purrs as she stands up. My mother lifts an eyebrow at the suggestive tone she has. My mother’s jealous streak is legendary. While she may not want to fuck my father, she sure as shit doesn’t want anyone else doing it either.
My father clears his throat, but it’s my mother who jumps in. “Lady Ornate, my lovely. You have been a true gem in our kingdom.” My mother’s voice, to anyone else, sounds sweet, but I can tell the lady knows my mother is anything but sweet. “You have delivered both my children, as well as helped many others in their labors. However, we cannot be greedy; we must share you. I’m sorry to see you go, but the kingdom needs a healer such as you. It would be selfish to keep you.”
Panic and confusion start to show on Lady Ornate’s face as she takes in my mother’s words. Her frantic gaze shoots from my father back to the queen.
“Effective immediately, you’ll be traveling to the forest of the priestesses, where you’ll help teach them your ways.” What my mother is really saying is, You are being exiled, and you’ll be lucky if you make it there alive.
“But, Your Grace—” she starts. My mother holds her slim hand up, silencing Lady Ornate before two guards move up on either side of her. My father doesn’t move, even though the woman he’s been sleeping with the past month keeps trying to garner his attention. When it’s clear my father isn’t going to help her, she schools her expression and nods, her face holding nothing but venomous contempt for my family. Whirling, she exits the room with her head held high and doesn’t even bother to look back at her daughter.
Arcanna keeps her face clear of emotion as she watches her mother be escorted out. Once the doors shut, she stands and walks in front of the dais. Jackson frowns, confusion painted over his face.
“Arcanna, dear, you are, of course, welcome to stay here,” my mother coos. Jealousy pings my chest for a moment; she’s always fawned over Arcanna in a way she never has over me. But maybe it’s because she only views me as a pawn in her never-ending chess match to win power.
Arcanna offers a smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Arcanna pushes her thick hair off her shoulder, still avoiding Jackson’s gaze. She wears loose pants that almost appear to be a skirt, and a tight wrap covers her torso, leaving her arms bare. Tattoos cover her exposed areas.
“That just leaves the decision of who to appoint as Lady of the Souls,” my father grumbles. He’s losing his patience. He wants to get on with the party.
Arcanna clears her throat. “I would like to be considered,” she says, and the whole room goes silent.
A split second later, Jackson shoots up out of his chair. “Absolutely not!”
Arcanna shoots him a look that would make a lesser man cower. “That isn’t your decision, Your Grace.” She spits the title like a curse. As if she punched him, he staggers back and drops into his seat again. I scoot to the edge of mine—Arcanna has never used Jackson’s title, not even in the presence of the king and queen.
“Do you understand what you are asking?” my father asks.
“Yes.” Her answer leaves no room for interpretation.
“You can’t mean that,” Jackson says, voice a whisper, but given the quiet in the room, it might as well have been a yell.
The position of Lady of the Souls has been empty for a decade; the job is a death sentence. She would reside between the Forest of Souls and Land of the Damned, helping souls cross to one place or the other, along with protecting the most important place in Hell: the Well. The place where all our magic, the magic of the royal family, resides. She would never be allowed to leave the position; she would effectively be there until she died. Which, for her, would be a very, very long time.
“Son,” my father barks in warning, a reminder that it is not just our family here; our people are watching this, and it is not befitting for the future king to be this upset over a female he will never marry. He turns his attention back toward Arcanna. “If you are serious about this, I will gladly consider you for it.”
“I am,” she says sternly.
My father pauses for a moment longer before nodding. “Very well, I’ll let you know our decision.”
I look from Arcanna to my brother. He is doing an awful job hiding his emotions. His silver eyes remain locked on her, a war clearly raging within him.
Without looking at my brother, Arcanna bows before turning and fleeing the throne room altogether. It takes less than a minute for my brother to storm after her.
FOUR
Should the king decide to wed either of his children, we must not allow that magic to go to anyone other than our coven. We have the ability to harness it, should we gain access to one of them.
– Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
(“She Will Be Loved” – Vitamin String Quartet, Bridgerton Soundtrack)
The ballroom is decorated in shades of crimson and deep golds. The walls are covered with silken tapestries that move in the wisteria-scented breeze creeping through the open archway windows. They look like ghosts trying to break free of chains holding them captive. Candlelight flickers just behind them, giving the illusion even more credence. They barely illuminate the corridors leading to the ballroom, allowing intimate corners where guests can embrace their inner deviance.
My feet are bare on the cool marble floors, adorned with golden chains intricately woven over the tops of them and connecting to golden cuffs on my ankles. The sheer white skirt I wear brushes the ground, and my legs peek out through slits up both sides. I smile politely at people as I make my way through the room, my long blonde hair sweeping my bare shoulders. When I sip the champagne in my hand, I can feel the diadem on my forehead move slightly, the diamond in the center moving with it. It matches the choker around my neck, affixed with ever more glittering jewels. My mother has overdone it this evening by dressing me like this.
“With eyes on you, hopefully, everyone will forget Jackson looking like a fool running out after Arcanna.”
“He cares for her.”
“He can care for her tight cunt, but he’s the future king. He would do well to remember that.”
She has made it clear what her expectations for both of us are in regard to marriage. I am to remain pure, and Jackson is to avoid knocking someone up and making the kingdom, aka her, look bad. After all, appearance means everything to her. Just the thought of what she wants from me makes me grip my glass so tightly, I worry I’ll snap the slender stem. Sweat trickles down my chest, and I can’t help but count down the moments until I can flee this place. I cannot remain their obedient puppet.
Just a few more months. A few more months and I can leave.
Whether it be Arcanna or someone else, I will be hitching a ride with whoever takes up the position of Lady of Souls. Not that they know the princess of Hell will be going with them. Nope, I’ll be hiding until they pass the gates to Gothic Grove. Once there, I will leave and use my magic to gain access to the city. There, I can disappear.
My father’s booming voice can be heard over the band playing some string melody. The drunker he gets, the louder his voice becomes. “Ava!” he yells, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s only because of years of experience hiding my reactions that I don’t wince. He’s standing talking with a larger man with dark hair, someone whom I’ve never seen in the palace.
