The Heart's Ashes
Page 130

“Your majesty,” Jason said.
Drake bowed his head slightly and Jason stood, clutching me close, his fingers a tight sleeve as he pulled me along.
“Oh, and, Amara?” the Blood King called. We stopped and I turned my head to look at the council again. “I will call on you later. When I do—” his eyes narrowed with a wicked smile, “—try not to scream, we have guests.”
I looked at Jason, my mouth falling open as my stomach jumped into my chest.
He smiled to himself and looked to the path ahead.
Chapter 21
My feet moved, carrying my numb soul through the endless walk of dark corridors—each door closed, housing some dark secret they didn’t want me to know, or maybe some dreadful nightmare I was just about to meet.
Death, tragedy, loss, lingered in these walls like a paste that sticks to the roof of your mouth. I knew it was there, I could feel it, taste it, but couldn’t escape it.
We meandered down a stone staircase into a dark, cold underground; each step stung the tips of my bare toes, like ice. The bitter chill of earth beneath rose up the stairwell, circling my arms and chin the way fear gripped the fugitive. Jason held me close to his body; his fingers twined tightly around my arm, piercing the underside with his nails, our ankles hitching with each step.
“You’re hurting my arm,” I said quietly.
“Hm, let’s play a game called ‘see how long it takes you to realise I don’t care.’”
I looked down at my feet, my toenails lined with ridges of dirt, a cloudy greyness to my skin. “You cared once.”
He just laughed, walking with purpose, maintaining speed.
Shadows wandered over my face, as we followed another really steep set of stairs—going down. The air smelled dry, like sticking my face in a bed of topsoil—gritty, dusty. I walked willingly, though, tired and weak with apathy, devoid of all fight, or even the will to fight.
I want to die. Jason was right. I am an abomination—created to kill that which I love. Created to kill my vampire, my David.
They’ll keep me alive here until they’re done with me, but their torture cannot measure up to the pain of knowing what will happen to David. He’s being punished because of me; because I came into his life, because I caused my mum’s death, moved here and met him. If I’d never come, he’d be on the council—ruling, climbing the ranks and, one day, serving at the right hand of the king.
“My God, girl.” Jason shook his head and shoved me forward under a stone arch as we reached the base of the stairs. “Could you be any more self-defeating?”
“Stay out of my head and it won’t bother you.” I folded my arms to block out the ghostly frost making my teeth chatter.
He shook his head at me, then walked deeper into the darkness, leaving me on my own in the centre of the wide space. If I focused intently on the walls, I could mark out two, but it wasn’t until a flame torch came ablaze at Jason’s fingertips that I could truly see this shadowy dungeon—all four walls, no windows. Brick upon brick of thin grey stone outlined the room, the foundations that held up a decaying, dirt roof.
This must be deeper underground than I thought—surely the castle isn’t mounted over this rotting tunnel.
Jason moved across the room and lit another torch, illuminating the clear, wet slime, oozing down the walls, resembling the glossy surface of a sweat-covered brow. As he lit the torch on the far side of the room, and light fingered the objects around me, my shoulders lifted to my ears, making me cringe with unsavoury thoughts. The room was no dungeon—it was purpose-built, with oddly shaped metal implements hanging from walls by iron chains, and artistic displays of mutilated skeletons with hair still draping their skulls. All those people—all of them were once alive, now, their fleshless, bloodless remains hang eternally in a dark cavern where only the dead or dying will know them. The room looked large and square, though the shadowy part on the opposite side could quite possibly be a corridor.
“Take a seat.” Jason ushered me toward a chair in the middle of the room. It resembled a dentist’s chair, large and oddly shaped, with metal cuffs on the feet and arms—a feature I’m sure most dentists wish for but can’t employ.
I stood fast in the middle of the room like a hesitant child, unwilling to suffer what I could only fear was to come.
“Ara, I said sit.”
“Please. Don’t make me sit in that.” It looked dirty, slimy.
Jason sighed and grabbed my arm. “You will sit, and you will do as you’re told. Otherwise—” he turned and pointed to a small camera in the far corner, “—the Blood King will order me to do unspeakable things to you.”
“He already did.”
“M’yes, but it could be worse,” he stated coldly and pushed me into the chair.
“Oh, God—” I tore my fingers away from the wet, splintery arm of the chair, and folded the back of my wrist to my nose. “What is that smell?”
“Centuries of rotting flesh.” Jason smiled.
My mouth opened and my tongue came forward, choking on the gassy burn of egg in the back of my throat. “How long has it been since someone died down here?”
“Stop asking questions.” Jason squatted by my feet and bunched the base of my dress over my knees, tinkering with the cuffs, then stopped and looked up at me. “Why aren’t you trying to escape?”
“Is there any point? I don’t know where to go, and although you think I’m some horrible, evil being, capable of great malice, I have no idea how to use any of that wrath.”
He shook his head then nudged my ankle into the open arm of the metal cuff, clamping it tightly. “You know I’m going to hurt you, right?”
“Yes.” I stared him down.
He stood up, motionless, his fingers twitching beside his jeans pockets. “You seem awfully calm.”
“Do I?”
He moved again and pinned my arm down as he fastened the clasp over it, cranking a lever until it capped my wrist like a tight bangle. “Yes, you do.”
“I—” I flexed my fingers and tried to twist my arm. “I don’t know what to feel.”
“Fear should be the first emotion, I would think.” He winked then walked behind the chair—out of sight.
“Jase?”
“What is it, creature?”