The Queen of All that Lives
Page 38
Still, to give me access to areas where I cannot be watched … my obsessive husband has surprised me.
I step through, shutting the door behind me.
I look down the corridor. The hall stretches out on either side, descending into the darkness beyond the motion activated lights. I begin heading back towards our room.
My footsteps falter as I pass by the first one-way mirror. It’s unnerving to think that the king could just stand here and watch someone go about their business without them knowing. I understand his motives, but it’s eerie and invasive nonetheless.
I begin to move again, passing several more rooms, each one dark. Eventually, I pass a room whose lights are still on. Without meaning to, I pause and survey it. What I see has me stepping up to the window.
A gun rests on the bed. That alone is eye-catching enough for me to give this room a second look. If only there were a way in. I could use a gun. Any weapon, really. I don’t trust Montes, or this place, or these people. It’s nothing personal—well, excepting Montes, of course. I was raised to mistrust my surroundings.
I force myself to step away from the window and resume walking. I can’t shake my unease. It’s this place. The king’s madness and depravity is all concentrated here. It’s messing with my mind.
My eyes drift down the hall, towards the lights that continue on into the distance.
Lights in the distance … that’s not right. The only time they come on is when they’re motion activated. And then it hits me.
Shit.
I’m not alone.
I head towards the illumination. Even if I were the type to hide, it would be pointless. The lights are convenient breadcrumbs for either Montes or myself to follow.
Ahead of me, the hallway is abandoned. But it veers sharply to the right, where the light appears to continue on. That’s where the king will be—if, of course, he’s still in the passageway.
I pass the double doors that lead to the crypt I was kept in, and I have to steel myself against the warm burn of anger it evokes. My shoes click loudly against the stone. Montes must hear me.
Once I round the corner, I see a figure peering into one of the rooms, his back to me.
I halt in my tracks.
His hair’s too short to be Montes.
The king was wrong. He’s not the only one who can access these passageways. And now I’m facing a stranger unarmed.
Beyond the man, the overhead lights trail off into darkness.
“Serenity.”
A chill runs down my spine.
I know that voice. I’d know it from anywhere.
But … it’s impossible. The man last drew breath a hundred years ago.
The figure swivels around.
My eyes take in the slight build, the brown eyes, the skin that’s every bit as tan as Montes’s. The dark hair that’s shorter than I remember it. And finally, that face I hated so much.
My ears didn’t deceive me.
Marco, the king’s oldest friend and advisor, is alive.
Chapter 22
Serenity
The king brought him back to life while he let me waste away.
The anger churning through me sharpens.
My hands fist, and I begin stalking towards him.
Sensing my violent intentions, Marco puts a hand up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
I don’t let that stop me. As soon as I’m within swinging range, I lunge for him.
He catches me around the midsection before I can land a blow, pinning my arms to my sides.
I thrash against him. “You fucking murderer! Why did he let you live?”
Gone is the composed leader I’ve been for the last hour. I’m back to being an angry, lost girl.
“Stop. Serenity,” Marco says. “Please. Stop.”
To hear that asshole’s voice … I’m seeing red.
What I really need is a gun. Any gun—
Something about Marco’s tone has me redirecting my thoughts. Something … not right.
I seek out his eyes. He’s not looking at me the way he used to, like I was just a thorn in his side.
And the way he said my name a few seconds ago … it’s too familiar.
“Let me go,” I say.
“Not if you’re going to hit me again.”
I struggle futilely against him. He’s still staring at me, and it’s setting off all sorts of unwelcome reactions.
The worst thing the king could do was immortalize me. I’m quickly finding I don’t react well to the attention and the adoration.
And that’s what I see in Marco’s eyes. Adoration.
It shouldn’t be there. We hate each other, and unlike the king, there is nothing else to our relationship beyond that.
Marco adjusts his hold on me. He pulls me in close, until our chests are flush against each other.
I bring my knee up, and he only just manages to pivot out of the way. “Jesus. Stop.” He shakes me a little. “Serenity, I am not going to hurt you.”
It’s almost laughable that he thinks I’m the one worried about getting hurt.
“You killed my father, you bastard.” I’m shaking I’m so angry.
It had been justice enough to know that Marco had taken his own life with the same hand and the same gun that killed my father.
But now that he’s so obviously cheated death and lived while I slept … the anger resurges.
“I am not the same man,” Marco says.
This again.
“Screw you and Montes and all of your fucking excuses!” I spit out, jerking against the hands hold me captive.
I step through, shutting the door behind me.
I look down the corridor. The hall stretches out on either side, descending into the darkness beyond the motion activated lights. I begin heading back towards our room.
My footsteps falter as I pass by the first one-way mirror. It’s unnerving to think that the king could just stand here and watch someone go about their business without them knowing. I understand his motives, but it’s eerie and invasive nonetheless.
I begin to move again, passing several more rooms, each one dark. Eventually, I pass a room whose lights are still on. Without meaning to, I pause and survey it. What I see has me stepping up to the window.
A gun rests on the bed. That alone is eye-catching enough for me to give this room a second look. If only there were a way in. I could use a gun. Any weapon, really. I don’t trust Montes, or this place, or these people. It’s nothing personal—well, excepting Montes, of course. I was raised to mistrust my surroundings.
I force myself to step away from the window and resume walking. I can’t shake my unease. It’s this place. The king’s madness and depravity is all concentrated here. It’s messing with my mind.
My eyes drift down the hall, towards the lights that continue on into the distance.
Lights in the distance … that’s not right. The only time they come on is when they’re motion activated. And then it hits me.
Shit.
I’m not alone.
I head towards the illumination. Even if I were the type to hide, it would be pointless. The lights are convenient breadcrumbs for either Montes or myself to follow.
Ahead of me, the hallway is abandoned. But it veers sharply to the right, where the light appears to continue on. That’s where the king will be—if, of course, he’s still in the passageway.
I pass the double doors that lead to the crypt I was kept in, and I have to steel myself against the warm burn of anger it evokes. My shoes click loudly against the stone. Montes must hear me.
Once I round the corner, I see a figure peering into one of the rooms, his back to me.
I halt in my tracks.
His hair’s too short to be Montes.
The king was wrong. He’s not the only one who can access these passageways. And now I’m facing a stranger unarmed.
Beyond the man, the overhead lights trail off into darkness.
“Serenity.”
A chill runs down my spine.
I know that voice. I’d know it from anywhere.
But … it’s impossible. The man last drew breath a hundred years ago.
The figure swivels around.
My eyes take in the slight build, the brown eyes, the skin that’s every bit as tan as Montes’s. The dark hair that’s shorter than I remember it. And finally, that face I hated so much.
My ears didn’t deceive me.
Marco, the king’s oldest friend and advisor, is alive.
Chapter 22
Serenity
The king brought him back to life while he let me waste away.
The anger churning through me sharpens.
My hands fist, and I begin stalking towards him.
Sensing my violent intentions, Marco puts a hand up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
I don’t let that stop me. As soon as I’m within swinging range, I lunge for him.
He catches me around the midsection before I can land a blow, pinning my arms to my sides.
I thrash against him. “You fucking murderer! Why did he let you live?”
Gone is the composed leader I’ve been for the last hour. I’m back to being an angry, lost girl.
“Stop. Serenity,” Marco says. “Please. Stop.”
To hear that asshole’s voice … I’m seeing red.
What I really need is a gun. Any gun—
Something about Marco’s tone has me redirecting my thoughts. Something … not right.
I seek out his eyes. He’s not looking at me the way he used to, like I was just a thorn in his side.
And the way he said my name a few seconds ago … it’s too familiar.
“Let me go,” I say.
“Not if you’re going to hit me again.”
I struggle futilely against him. He’s still staring at me, and it’s setting off all sorts of unwelcome reactions.
The worst thing the king could do was immortalize me. I’m quickly finding I don’t react well to the attention and the adoration.
And that’s what I see in Marco’s eyes. Adoration.
It shouldn’t be there. We hate each other, and unlike the king, there is nothing else to our relationship beyond that.
Marco adjusts his hold on me. He pulls me in close, until our chests are flush against each other.
I bring my knee up, and he only just manages to pivot out of the way. “Jesus. Stop.” He shakes me a little. “Serenity, I am not going to hurt you.”
It’s almost laughable that he thinks I’m the one worried about getting hurt.
“You killed my father, you bastard.” I’m shaking I’m so angry.
It had been justice enough to know that Marco had taken his own life with the same hand and the same gun that killed my father.
But now that he’s so obviously cheated death and lived while I slept … the anger resurges.
“I am not the same man,” Marco says.
This again.
“Screw you and Montes and all of your fucking excuses!” I spit out, jerking against the hands hold me captive.
