“That’s right. More curse-bearers to screw and then dispose of.” Dray ran a finger over my cheek. “Did you think you were special? Something more than a toy to play with until I grew bored?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Tears wanted to swell in my eyes, but I forced them back. I had, for a day or so, thought the Reaper cared for me, as well as he could at least. After my father’s affair cursed the family, I’d only sought men for comfort or to use them to my advantage. Dray craved me for nothing more than being myself.
Or so I’d thought.
My chest tightened, and not from his grip limiting my oxygen.
“I just wanted to give you a parting gift before that pretty head detaches from your neck.” Dray released his hand and I fell onto my heels. He pushed one hand into my shoulder to prevent me from collapsing to the ground.
“Look at me, Elys,” he said, as though the fragile pieces of the world I’d constructed these few nights weren’t tumbling into shatters around me.
I looked at him. His green eyes burned a hole in my soul.
Dray smacked me across the face. Hot pain, like shards of glass burying into my skin, wound over my cheek. I staggered, and the Reaper let me fall this time.
“A way to remember me, and so even when your head falls to the ground, everyone will know you were mine.”
Dray exited the cell and locked the gate behind me. He sneered at the servant, who backed even farther away, wet rags dripping from her hands.
“Move faster,” Dray said. “The King will be here any time.” He gave a dark chuckle and retreated down the hall.
My arms shook, and I pressed a hand into the fire simmering on my cheek. I drew it back as the touch made the ache more.
The silver around my wrists and at my throat suddenly grew warm. The bands slipped off as the metal turned molten, then liquified, and exited the cell to follow their master’s call.
I’d never felt more naked. Without Dray’s silver around me, I knew he’d spoken the truth. Any indication of care, even in his own twisted way, had always been a lie. He’d used me, then threw me out as easily as the waste bucket I’d cast aside this morning.
Sobs burned the inside of my chest, and I had no reason to hold them back. Tears finally poured over my face, cooling the heat on my cheek, and the noises escaping my mouth with each cry sounded less than human.
Louder clacking exploded farther down the cells. The servant girl stopped her moping and ducked her head, watching with a veiled peek beneath her hair.
I shuttered with deep gasps, but forced my way to the gate. The angle made it difficult to see that far down, but the sounds came through more clearly.
Several voices shouted and teased at the first few prisoners in the block. The man’s pleas filtered toward me, along with a groan of iron hinges filing open. The pleading turned to screams, and then the voices faded, but the piercing shouts continued from the courtyard outside.
Silence stretched for a moment, then the whispers resumed.
“What was that?” I asked the servant girl in a hushed tone. Fear cast a new darkness through the place.
She eyed me, glancing down the hall once more, likely to check if it was safe to talk. “The Reapers took the first prisoner to the King. The executions have begun.”
Chapter Ten
At sunset, I still breathed. The Curse Catchers came again and again and dragged screaming people from their cells, bound for the butcher’s block. Each time the metal gate smashed open, another layer of fear and dread fell over me. Continuing that way proved exhausting, and I curled on the thin cot. I’d cast aside all the blankets Dray had given me. They’d been nothing but a rouse and another game for him.
My face still burned from his slap, though the remnants of my pride hurt worse. Dray’s palm would still mar my face when they tossed my body into whatever pit they dug for us. Not even in death could I escape him.
Soft steps came from the corridor. I relaxed. The Curse Catchers sounded like a parade of horses whenever they entered, and the milder sound could not be them.
The servant girl from earlier appeared. She carried an empty bucket.
“Bucket change,” she said.
I dragged myself from the bed and heaved my soiled bucket from the corner. Regular clean buckets proved an unexpected benefit of the king’s visit. One section of the gate gaped wider than the rest. I pushed the bucket through the space and she grabbed it from the other side.
She slipped the new bucket through and I caught the handle.
She didn’t let go.
