The doors creaked open behind me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off this man. The girl had been right. The Drae was a monster, but the king . . . The sickness pouring off him was warning me to run and hide. He wasn’t particularly tall, nor his features sharp or twisted. He didn’t have the physical prowess to give the impression that he could fell me in a sweep of his sword. He radiated something much worse.

The girl who’d cut my hair was shoved beside me. A guard towered over her. She fell to her knees and scrambled back to her feet as I watched from the corner of my eye. Shame filled me at my cowardice, but I didn’t dare help her.

The king fixed the girl next to me with a pointed look. “What happened to Lord Irrik’s friend, dear Madeline?” He fingered the chain from whence the small flask hung then ran the bottle back and forth on the chain. “You haven’t been doing things you oughtn’t, have you?”

The girl replied in a wooden voice, “She went berserk, Your Majesty. Said she had to use the pot, but the next thing I knew she was trying to kill herself.” She curtsied and said, “Sorry, sire.”

Her gaze flitted to Lord Irrik, but the Drae watched me, his mouth curved down in disapproval. I glared back, trying to convey my disgust without the king mistaking the glare as meant for him.

“Madeleine, it pains me to see you lie,” the king said with a kind smile. He extended his hand and waved toward the door. “Jotun, at your hand.”

Madeleine sucked in a deep breath, and at the same time, the soldier nearest to her drew his sword. In one fluid movement, he swung the sword in an arc, slicing through the young girl, eviscerating her from one hip clean through her rib cage in a diagonal line. Her lower half crumpled to the ground, and her top half almost seemed to float in the air momentarily before falling to the gray stone floor. She landed on her side, and blood gushed from her gutted torso, her heart still beating, pumping the blood out of her system and onto the floor. Her eyes widened, and she ran her hand over the stump of her body as she watched her life spill out before her.

“At last . . .” She sighed before her head fell back on the floor.

Bile burned the back of my throat, but I was learning I could only feel so much and go through so much before all the screams and tears were gone. That was where I was right now. I stared at the body of the girl who had tried to spare me some of the king’s wrath by cutting my hair and rubbing ointment on my face.

My mind told me she was dead now, but even though I saw the truth of it before me, I couldn’t process the perpetual horror I was experiencing.

I’d never seen brutality like this before. I’d seen cruelty from soldiers but never the river from whence the streams came. This man was the namesake. His savage inhumanity sat underneath his average face and average height and mild manner. I’d have to be a fool not to quake in fear.

There were different rules in this place.

This was not a game I knew how to play.

The king cleared his throat, and I looked at the fair man. He licked his lips as he closed the bottle. His gaze returned to me, and his eyes glinted with the first pieces of hardness I’d seen.

“You are to curtsey before your king, girl. Or did your rebel mother not teach you manners?”

His words were a trap, and I peered down, my gaze falling on the bloodied hem of my tunic. My mother was dead because of his orders. He didn’t kill her with his hands, but what he’d done was worse. The king had no idea who he’d killed with his instructions to his guards. I doubted he cared. The girl, Madeline, lay on the floor at my feet.

I curtsied. Low. And waited.

“Hmm. You may rise.” Turning in his seat to face his first, King Irdelron asked Lord Irrik, “Does she not speak?”

Lord Irrik stared through me to the back of the room. “Mostly nonsense, sire. She hasn’t been coherent in my dealings with her, limited though they’ve been.”

His voice was emotionless, but another glint ran through the king’s expression as though he heard something I did not in the Drae’s voice.

He leaned forward. “She’s truly worthless?”

“That is for you to judge, sire,” the Drae said in a disinterested voice. “I followed a woman from the rebel meetings to her house. When I questioned the girl’s mother, she pulled a knife.”

“Your mother was a rebel, girl?”

I kept my focus on the king, and my tongue twisted before I managed the words, “If she was, Your Majesty, she did not include me in her plans. I had no idea she was anything more than a mother until tonight.”

It was true.

The king’s gaze slid to Lord Irrik, who was still as a statue. “She’s pretty, don’t you think, my Drae? Is that why you lowered yourself to kiss the daughter of a rebel? Three times, according to reports from others in my guard? Once in her house, once on the street, and once at the gate to my castle?”

Three times? I felt violated.

“She was hysterical. She came into the room as I killed her mother and started screaming. Her screams irritated me.”

I gritted my teeth but remained silent as I processed what Lord Irrik had said. He killed my mother? No, she’d asked him to, to protect me. He’d refused, and she’d stabbed herself. But then he stepped on the blade to finish her off. The images flashed through my vision, twisting and distorting in my memory.

“Is that so?” the king mused. He tapped a finger on his jaw and propped his chin on an elbow to one side. He glanced toward the Drae again. “Have we apprehended any other rebels?”

“Three others. The rest have gone into hiding. I don’t believe the same strategy will work again. They are fast learners.”

What others?

The king’s face twisted, and the mask he’d kept in place until now slipped. “Peasants,” he sneered, turning his attention to me. “Trying to kill me and take my throne? Do they think I will ever let another take it, girl?”

I jerked, heart hammering. “No, King Irdelron.”

That was the truth as well. They knew he was a power hungry, selfish sod. If he’d kill his own children, it was no surprise he’d kill the peasants.

The king glanced over my head and raised both brows before setting his eyes on me once more. I heard twin sets of footsteps march up behind.

The Drae to the right of the throne twitched, nearly imperceptibly.

Cold realization settled heavily in my chest. The king wasn’t going to let me go. He was going to kill me. My eyes slid to Madeline’s corpse; she’d said there was only one way out of here, hadn’t she? The seconds stretched, and I contemplated my fate. I had accomplished nothing of significance in my life, and I didn’t want to die here.

I tensed as the footsteps halted beside me. If the king thought I wasn’t going to try to run he had another thing coming. I waited for the order that would seal my fate, muscles coiled to escape.

Lord Irrik spoke, “Perhaps it would be wise to question the girl. If she knows anything, she may be able to corroborate whatever the other three prisoners disclose. She’ll be easier to break than the others.”

I shifted my eyes to the Drae, furrowing my brow.

The king still watched me with his assessing gaze, and I hoped I hadn’t betrayed anything.

A slow smile twisted the king’s features. “Lord Irrik, what an excellent plan. You echo my own thoughts. Though I must ask, seeing as you’ve kissed her several times, is your lust for her going to interfere with the interrogation?”

Lust! What the hay?

King Irdelron leaned back in his gilded throne, and studied me over his steepled fingers.

The Drae’s face remained impassive. “I am bound by oath, sire. And I would never lust for a human.”

Irdelron laughed, a cruel barking sound. “Then you will be alone for eternity.” He raised his hand and waved me forward. “Jotun, take this wisp of a girl and find out what she knows. Feel free to show her your brand of hospitality, but don’t kill her. I want her alive—for now.” His eyes slid to Irrik, then back to the guard. “When you’re done, find suitable accommodations for such an esteemed guest.”

His words were all courtesy, which was enough to convince me I wouldn’t be getting hospitality whatsoever.

Dyter told me of the king’s dungeons. Just the other day he’d told me how many people escaped them.

None.

Madeline’s blood had seeped across the ground and was nearly at the outer edge of my left boot. At last, she’d said—the girl who’d made me feel like a toddler with the wisdom in her eyes, wisdom I was convinced was forged from haunting experience. Was it so bad here that death like that was preferable? The girl had told me she was uncertain why she hadn’t given up, that it was just habit to live. She’d told me to do whatever was necessary to stay alive. To find my corner.

Yet she’d welcomed death in the end.

How long would it take me to become like her? Would I welcome it, too?

Jotun, the guard who murdered Madeline, crossed to me. His features were nondescript, from the muted color of his hair and eyes, to the color of his skin, neither light nor dark. His expression was blank deference to his master. He moved forward without a sound, despite the weapons he carried. He was one of the big guards, the ones close in size to Lord Irrik.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.

The king laughed. “Oh, it’s no use talking to Jotun, girl.”

The guard grabbed my arm, his thick fingers circling my bicep in a loose grip. It was useless to fight him. I’d seen his earlier speed, and now I felt his strength.

For no other reason than in this dark room I knew him best of anyone, I lifted my eyes to the king’s Drae. His lip curled into a sneer, and I knew whatever “help” he’d offered was officially at an end.

I was on my own at seventeen. I’d wished for excitement, and it brought me this. My heart was broken, shattered. My chest was empty. I had no one.

I followed the soldier out of the king’s presence, past the rows of guards, and down an endless staircase. This one was damp with fewer torches. Small windows spaced farther apart and up out of reach offered the only light. The first rays of the morning sky penetrated through.

I stumbled, and only Jotun’s hold on my arm kept me from tumbling down the stairs. He said nothing as he yanked me upright.

“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered. Now that we were out of the throne room, my attention turned to what was coming next with exhausted acceptance. Maybe if I knew what to expect, I could prepare.

Jotun remained silent, and I couldn’t be sure if he was ignoring me or hadn’t heard.

Swallowing my pride and fear, I raised my voice and asked again, “What are you going to do to me?”

The guard didn’t stop walking. He didn’t turn to look at me. He didn’t even glance my way. He just continued propelling us forward with his grip on my arm.

The windows stopped as we descended, and the distance between the weak light of the torches grew. We reached a stone landing on the stairway, and an ear-splitting scream tore through the air. Stagnant, fetid air clung to me, pushing its rank odor into my lungs. A gust of cold rot blasted me as we passed an open doorway, and I instinctively reared back, bumping into the guard.

Jotun pushed me away, his grip on my arm tightening as he increased the distance between us with just the extension of his arm. I’d never met anyone so strong, aside from Lord Irrik.

We passed several wooden doors, all closed. From the gaps in the slats came muffled sobs or pleas for help. The sound of metal grinding came from behind one door, and a sharp scream was cut short by a wet gurgle.

So many doors, and behind at least three of them were people I knew, according to Irrik. Were they being tortured? Were any of them my friends? Dyter? Arnik? The thought of one of them being severed like Madeline made my knees weak, and I discovered I wasn’t as completely soul numb as I’d thought.

Maybe there was a fist of fight left in me.

My eyes were gritty and ached with the need to close. More than that, my mind begged for a chance to sort through what was happening. I needed to close my eyes for a few minutes, to fill in the hole in my heart that throbbed; every part of my mind, body, and soul yearned for a moment of peace. I wanted them to leave me alone.

“Please?” I begged, pulling on my captor, resisting him with all my meager strength. “Just give me a few minutes.”

But Jotun didn’t even deign to look my way, speeding up instead.

One look at his face, and the obvious futility dried up my pleas. His previously dull eyes were alight with anticipation that made my stomach roil.

Without breaking his stride, he flung me forward. My legs tangled, and I landed on my knees. The top layers of skin from my palms and knees disappeared into the rough stone floor, and I yelped as I rolled off the painful abrasions.

The beast grabbed my forearm and dragged me over the sharp stone ground.

My shoulder screamed in protest, a new pain overriding the burning of my knees, and the searing pain tore through my shoulder, my back, down my side, and into my chest. I gasped and sobbed, tears spilling from my eyes. The stone clawed and sliced through my tunic and then my skin. A loud keening carried from one of the chambers, the sound swelling louder and louder as we seemed to follow it to my doom. The wailing intensified, and my soul echoed the sound of grief and pain. When Jotun stopped, I couldn’t do anything but sag in a heap of grazed pain at his feet. The person’s weeping waned to whimpers, and I wondered if the terrified woman was as tired as I was. She sounded like she was. Had she suffered a similar torture?

Jotun pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked a door. He kicked me savagely and I scampered into the room, not needing any more of his vicious encouragement. I was willing to make this easier on myself. What was happening was beyond my understanding—the hurt, the unkindness, this entire situation. The deepest recesses of my soul couldn’t make sense of why someone would hurt me this way.

The sound of a key twisting in a lock echoed in the room, my mind, my heart, and my soul. The scrape of metal on metal undid the last of my courage.

Jotun rounded on me, smiling for the first time.

I watched him draw closer with burning eyes, already searching for the place inside me that Madeline spoke of; The place that would help me survive when I woke from this terrible nightmare.