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I returned to the party.
Almost two hours had passed since I first walked onto the dance floor, though it only felt like mere minutes. Bianca had made time disappear, stealing minute after minute without my noticing. Perhaps she had stolen more than just my time.
Fewer people were dancing. The King and Talyssa were gone. I’d donned my mask once more, but the revelers seemed to have forgotten this was a masquerade ball since many of their disguise props now lay on the floor, forgotten.
I moved closer to the dais, walking nonchalantly in front of the orchestra members who were playing lazily now.
Images of Bianca in my arms—twirling as we danced, of her hand in mine, the other one on my chest—kept appearing before my eyes. I tried to push them away, but they were stubborn, in the way the sun is stubborn in its daily fight against darkness.
Maximus’s throne was red velvet and gold, its back, tall and straight. It wasn’t really a throne but a glorified chair. He had a similar one in the Challenge Hall, which stood empty most of the time unless he was in a torturing mood.
There was an actual throne room somewhere, I knew, and I doubted its main piece of furniture looked anything like this.
Behind the dais, a door caught my attention. It was partly hidden by a curtain and painted the same color as the wall.
I glanced back toward the orchestra. They seemed bored and tired. A few drunken couples staggered around, pretending to dance, barking out crude laughs when they stepped on each other’s toes or took the wrong turn.
Unnoticed, I approached the door and slipped past it, planning to continue my exploration of the palace. As soon as I stepped onto the other side, I froze.
“Ah, so good of you to finally join us, Stonehelm,” the King said, a calculating smile revealing his blood stained fangs.
King Maximus was stretched on top of a long, upholstered chair, one arm dangling over the side. Talyssa’s head rested on his thigh, two dribbles of blood sliding from the side of her neck down to her chest. A metallic scent saturated the air.
Heart pounding, I quickly scanned the room, trying to assess the situation I’d stepped into. About ten people occupied the space, a drawing room similar to the one Bianca and I had encountered earlier. They were mostly women, but there were a couple of men, too. They lounged on the furniture like lazy cats.
Their clothes were in a state of disarray. Buttons unfastened. Cravats loose. Shirts untucked, stockings and shoes strewn about. Glasses of wine sat empty or half-full on every available surface.
“You’ve already been enjoying yourself, I see.” King Maximus gestured to indicate my missing jacket.
I said nothing, fighting the urge to go to Talyssa and make sure she was fine, to tell her I’d seen Bianca, to lie and promise we would help her.
A woman in a yellow dress, her bodice torn open, slunk in my direction on bare feet. She moved like a cat and seemed ready to twine herself around my legs, purring. I took a step back—not wishing to soil the feel of Bianca’s touch still on my skin. The woman made a sound that was close to a hiss and retreated, waist-long hair swinging from side to side.
“There is also Velkan if your inclinations are such,” King Maximus said, gesturing toward a young man lounging drunkenly on a wide armchair.
Once more, I made no comment.
“So stiff and proper,” Maximus said. “So... boring.”
My eyes drifted to Talyssa.
The King’s eyebrows rose up. “Her?” he asked, amusement in his tone. “Take her if you want. I’ve had my fill for tonight.” He jerked his leg, and she slid down, falling toward the floor.
Without thinking, I rushed forward, reached out, and stopped her head from hitting the floor just in time.
Maximus smirked, his expression letting me know how pathetic he found me.
Sliding my hands under Talyssa’s arms, I dragged her away and, finding nowhere to lay her down, I gently rested her on the carpet.
“She’s a weak Trove,” the King said with disgust, rising from his chair and walking around the room. As he went, he brushed those he passed like pieces of furniture. In turn, they leaned into his touch, cold creatures reaching for their sun.
Talyssa let out a quiet moan. I smoothed her blond curls out of her face and saw the seeping puncture marks at her neck.
Maximus slid his tongue across his upper teeth, wiping them clean of blood. “Your brother is far more delicious and potent.”
I sprang to my feet, fists clenched.
Mouth closed, he laughed deep in his throat in fake amusement. He found me pathetic. And I was. My strength no match to his and—no matter how much I trained, how fast and agile I became—it would never be enough.
“But Timotei,” he continued, carelessly turning his back on me and walking toward the young man he had offered me, “is also weak due to his age. I can drain him in a matter of seconds, and after that, he’s useless for days.”
Even as my anger flared so bright that my vision turned red, it was futile. I wanted to attack, lunge at him, and pummel his face into the floor until my fists were nothing but splintered bone, but I couldn’t. I knew too well how that would end, and I’d be nothing but a fool if I didn’t learn from my mistakes.
I needed to think differently, needed to come up with a solution that ended with his death and not my torture.
I’d known this since my last failure, but tonight—here, in his arrogant, oblivious presence, and in view of his amusement and lack of fear over my undisguised fury—things grew clearer.
He wanted this of me, this helplessness, this ridiculous display of impotence that served only to underline how absolutely powerful he was. We were his pawns, each and every one of us, here to be whatever he needed us to be. His food, his entertainment, his dramatic escape from boredom.
I forced my fists to unclench and took a deep breath. I couldn’t let him provoke me. I had to be smarter.
“My brother is strong,” I said, knowing this to be true.
“That, he is,” King Maximus said. “But Trove’s always are. Take Talyssa, for instance.” He glanced down at her prone shape on the floor. “Tomorrow, she will be fussing over your brother like a mother hen, making sure he eats his meals and learns his letters.”
Talyssa was teaching Timotei to read?
Before he was taken, I’d been trying to teach him, but our progress had been excruciatingly slow. At night, when I’d had time for such endeavors, the boy had been too tired to pay close attention and had, invariably, fallen asleep as we sounded out words from the few books we owned.
“Sometimes,” the King continued, “I wonder why she looks after him that way. I suspect it’s so she can get a respite, have another Trove take her place, you know.” He smiled wickedly.
Anger toward Talyssa flared in my chest, but I suppressed it as soon as I realized what the King was doing. Manipulation seemed to be a game he enjoyed, like a master puppeteer pulling the strings of his helpless dolls.
In response, I walked up to Talyssa and picked her up, cradling her against my chest. She felt light, insubstantial as if her spirit had made up the bulk of her weight and it was now gone, departed to a place where no hurt could reach it. Gently, I deposited her on the chair Maximus had vacated. Her arms and head dropped as soon as I let her go.
Poor girl. So utterly helpless in the hands of a monster, and no one able to help, no matter how willing.
Her eyes opened drowsily. I squeezed her hand and tried to send her a message... not of hope, but of patience and endurance. I didn’t know how long it would take—maybe a lifetime—but I would make this right.