I muster my resolve and push such selfish thoughts from my mind, closing my eyes tight and hoping my prayers ascended the gloom of Baev’kalath.
“Souls. Please give me the courage to survive this so my people might live. Please give me hope.”
“There is no hope here,”a voice replies from the shadows.“Only sorrow. Only pain.”
I spin on my heels, the weight of the dress putting a stumble to my step. I look into the darkened corner of the room, but no matter how hard I try, I can not make out the figure that stands there, its shape loose and wavering like smoke. The voice I recognize. It is the same voice from the throne room that screamed at me to run. Deep and consuming and haunted by great sadness.
“Who are you?” I demand, desperately clutching the dresser, my knuckles white. “Show yourself.”
“I am the curse of this place. The bones that rattle beneath the rock,”the voice replies.“I told you to run. Why did you not run?”
The smoke expands, slithering across the room and blackening the walls.
“I thought I imagined you. That my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“Tricks would be a blessing,”the voice says, its presence spreading through the bedchamber and casting impossible shadows across the floor that seem to reach for me. “For Baev’kalath is a place of horrors, and the dark prince is a cursed thing.”
Soon, the shadows are at my feet and smoky tendrils slither up my gown, twisting around my waist and rushing over my chest before encircling my throat.
“Why did you come?”the voice scorns, but there is a woeful pleading in its words.“Do you wish for death? Or did you bring it with you?”
“I had no choice.” I gulp as the ice-cold tendrils tighten like a vise.
The voice whispers.“Now neither do I.”
The tendrils tighten again, and my breaths sharpen in my throat as I choke.
“Do not fall in love with the cursed prince. It will be your doom!”
Suddenly, the doors of the bedchamber fly open and the smoke retreats to the darkened corner from where it appeared.
“Amara Tyne,” Arax says, cradling his helm under his arm. “It is time.”
I stagger against the dresser, gasping for breath.
His silver eyebrows furrow with concern. “Girl. Are you alright?”
I pause to collect my thoughts, straightening my back as I banish the lingering shadows of my imagination. I can’t share what I didn’t truly see with Arax; he already thinks I’m mad. Yet the words echo in my mind, leaving a chill creeping down my spine.
“Time for what?” I stammer.
“For your wedding,” he replies, his tone as gruff as ever.
The words reverberate in my mind, simple yet elusive, slipping through my grasp like water. I can’t make sense of them, no matter how hard I try.
“Wedding? Now?” I shake my head vehemently. “No. This is ridiculous. I have only just arrived. You cannot expect me to marry a man I have never met in the middle of the night?”
Arax stands stalwart. “This is the command of your king and queen.”
I plant my feet like roots in the earth. “I said no, Arax.”
He exhales, his dull eyes staring solemnly at me. “You did me a kindness by saving my life on the ship. Please do not make me drag you kicking and screaming to your own wedding.”
“You wouldn’t,” I mutter under my breath.
Arax’s face hardens. “I am a Blade of the Ebon Flight. I have done far worse.”
I may not know this warrior of the Mordorin well, but I do not doubt he will carry out his king’s orders and I would rather meet my fate on my own two feet than over his shoulder.
