I tore my eyes over them, searching for Mathias. In a sea of dead people, my eyes, my ears, my whole body searched for him. I could see nothing but mist wafting aimlessly in curls, spinning and dipping then disappearing inside the ruffles of gowns and strange fabrics the dead wore. The fog poured down around their costumes, and seeped through the crooks of arms and fingers, each guest a ghostly phantom made of smoke and shadows.
Hemlock leaned forward in his throne, a small lift of his lips and his arrogant expression turned into a sinister smile.
I averted my gaze quickly, over the dais and crowd. Staring him down would show him my rebellious thoughts, wouldn’t it? He needed to think I was loyal, I needed to just get through this and everything would be fine. My mother would be able to leave here and I’d deal with anything after that.
Standing nearest the dais were Mathias and his brother Liam, both their heads bowed, hands clasped behind their backs. As I passed, Mathias’s eyes snapped up, locking on mine, and I felt my body catch fire.
His gaze trailed slowly down. It slipped over my neck and across my collarbone lingering just above my breasts. Sparks of heat licked over my skin wherever his stare fell. They dropped lower, over the swell of skin that peeked over my corset, and widened. Everywhere his eyes landed Ifeltthem on me, electric glances dancing over my skin. Then ice and emptiness as his eyes instantly darted to the floor, his hands fisting at his sides.
I looked away, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Heat stung at the corner of my eyes and bit into the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want him to see me like this. It felt dirty and raw. I flashed my eyes back up to his, praying he’d look at me with kindness or understanding, but he didn’t raise his eyes to mine.He couldn’t even look at me dressed like this. A sob caught in my throat, the taste of bitter degradation coating my tongue.
With a sudden hard push to my back, Rose shoved me forward. I stumbled a few steps and fell into the edge of the dais, palms flat against it.
Behind me I heard a quick shift of the crowd and I spun around to see the assembly of dead as they dropped to their knees at once.
The only two people left standing were Mathias and I.
I wanted to look at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I stared down at the ground, shame and humiliation welling tears in my eyes.
“Bring her to me, Mathias,” the king said.
This was it, the moment that everything up to this point led to—Hemlock’s plan for me. My life, my death, whatever part I needed to play.
I still couldn’t lift my eyes to meet Mathias’s. I just stared down at the flat stones of the floor until his weathered boots came into my view.
My heart raced as he held out a gloved hand.
I gripped his arm as he led me up onto the platform. He let me go quickly but my fingers clawed into the soft leather of his gloves, leaving deep crescent-moon shapes in their wake. It was a brief grasp, he might not have even felt it through the thick material, but for a moment his other hand was at my waist, pressing into my side tightly. I felt the heaviness of his eyes on me for the briefest of moments and then it was gone, and so was he, leaving me standing alone in front of the dead king.
Rose hissed at me from somewhere below. I was meant to say something, but I hadn’t quite been listening to her instructions when she dressed me. My cheeks warmed as I thought about the room behind me and what they must be seeing from that point of view.
My practically naked ass, most likely.
The fire in my cheeks flushed through my body and I felt hot all over.
I think I was supposed to bow or cower at his feet. But my muscles turned tight and rigid and my heart was sloshing around wetly against my rib cage. It was protesting—my body, my bones, and muscles and flesh—from bowing down and showing respect to the person I hated the most.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted my gaze upward, leveling my eyes with Hemlock’s.
The dead king wore a crown covered in sharp silver spikes and muted gray skulls. Shadows and mist cut across his features making him look as if he were made of nothing more than smoke and ash. His skin was bone-white. His eyes, a gruesome milky haze. “You should be on your knees,” the king murmured, a sinister smile slowly spreading across his lips.
Beneath the swirling haze of his malefic face, hung a small bell-shaped crystal that contained a flickering white light. It lay just under his collar against an expanse of gruesome, grayish skin.
In the hushed silence of the room I could hear it quietly singing to me.
Was the asshole wearing my soul as some undead accessory?
A rush of bubbling bile soured the back of my throat. It was absurd—the whole thing—a nightmare I could not find my way to wake up from. I was still having trouble believing any of this could be real. My grandmother was dead. My mother was still alive. And Mathias…I couldn’t bring myself to continue the thought.And now, the dead guy is wearing my soul as jewelry?“Where is my mother?”
“Probably in my private rooms, waiting for me.” His mouth curved up in a smirk like he was insinuating she was looking forward to his return. Arrogant, lying, soul-stealing asshole.
“You made a deal with me,” I said, hoarsely.
The king shrugged. “Did I?”
I blinked.This was not frigging happening to me.
“Are you saying our arrangement is off?” My knees tingled, a numbing sensation that quickly traveled to the tips of my fingers and toes. “Remember? My loyalty for their souls. Do we not still have a deal?”
