Page 91 of Unmasked

I scrambled to my feet, beating into the door harder.

“Open! Open this door right now! Magister!”

My heart was racing. I paced, moving back and forth, cutting a path in the floor with my jerky movements.

“Hurry up!” I roared. “Open the fucking door.”

The key slid in. A click sounded, and I jerked back the wood. For a second I saw nothing but an empty hall. Then… I looked lower. My breath caught, and the sob that tore from me sent me crashing to my knees.

Dark hair was wild around Penelope’s shoulders. Her face was splattered with blood, and she looked dazed or medicated. She wore a black silk nightgown, and her chest was raw from the new brand of a sword stabbing through what was underneath the material, my crown. She took a shaky step towards me, and I dove forward, wrapping my arms around her waist as I buried my face into her stomach. Fingers pushed into my hair while her other arm wrapped around me.

“G-God.” Tears raced down my face, and I barely got the word out through the tightening in my throat. “I was so scared. I tried to come—I’m—sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. Her hold was loose. It was almost just as dead as she appeared to be as she stared ahead in a daze.

“Penelope? Where is he? Where’s King Lawrence? Did you kill him?”

My hands wrapped around her waist as I looked up. She was still gazing ahead. Still, not quite here.

“No. I think he let me go. I’m not sure.”

I wiped the wetness from under my eyes, standing and pulling her into my arms. Her body convulsed, and she cried out, locking into place as her nails dug into my chest.

“You’re hurt. You shouldn’t be here… alone…” My eyes searched the hall. There was no one. No guards. It was empty.

“Where?” I angled her face up, smearing the crimson over her cheek. “What the hell is going on? How did you get here? Where is everyone?”

“Waiting.”

Again, I looked. My arm scooped under her ass, and I picked her up, walking. Stalking.

I reached for my knife, remembering how the guards had taken it when they overpowered me and forced me into the cell. But not easily. Not at all…

I’d fought them.

Killed a lot of them.

“Where are they, Penelope?”

A few seconds passed. “Throne Room.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck and wetness from her tears met my cheek. It was enough to slow my thoughts from the murderous wrath. I stopped just outside the Great Hall, leaning back to look into her face.

Blood.

Think.

“What am I walking into? What is happening? You have to tell me. I know you’re not okay right now. I know you’re hurting and … confused, but I’m confused too. I need you to tell me everything.”

She sniffled. “No one… came. No one came to the airport. No one came to get me in Scotland. I.” She sobbed. “I woke up alone. I got on the plane… I got here and…” Her arms tightened around me. The Magister met me in the Great Hall. He’s… dead. I killed him. I kept asking for you. When he said he’d had you locked up, I lost it. I…I—I slit his throat.” She took in a broken breath, exhaling slowly. Grounding herself. “The guard is holding The Judic at gunpoint until you arrive. I took control. I had to.”

My lips parted. Her voice had broken up at the end, but there wasn’t a shred of weakness to her.

“You killed The Magister… and the guard obeyed you?”

“Able.” She sniffled. “I—” A sob tore from her. “To harm the Intended is a death sentence. The Magister said so. He killed the rapists. He said—and I—Our baby. You kept telling him. You went to him, I know you did. You knew—” Harder she cried. “You tried to tell me—tell him—you knew… and n-now our baby. Vaughn… our baby.”

This didn’t seem real.