Chapter 22 Caught in a lie

Chapter 22 Caught in a lie
NYX

My stomach drops so fast I swear it lands somewhere near my ankles when I hear him speak. 

Instinctively, I stagger back. This man. This stranger. Tall, lean, bearing the kind of face that belongs on a coin, steps into the light.

Sharp jaw, cheekbones that could cut glass, and a brilliant, bright smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet is somehow settling. He has a head full of long, straight hair that falls on his shoulders.

I know this face.

I’ve seen him before, but where? 

My brain scrambles through memories like a thief rifling through drawers. Where have I seen this face? It is too peculiar—well, handsome, if I may—to be forgotten.

He tilts his head, amused for no reason. “So you’re the one who sent my guard chasing skirts and whiskey.”

I open my mouth and slam it close just as easily, swallowing hard. “I was just—”

“Tricking Jabari with tales of buxom women and free ale?” He laughs like we’re sharing a joke at a tavern instead of standing outside a dungeon that I may be getting shoved into after this conversation. “Bold move. I’m almost impressed.”

His smile is too easy, and that’s what terrifies me. No one in Blackhollow smiles unless they’re about to gut you. 

I take a step back, brushing my spine against the damp wall. My throat feels heavy with bile and dread settles in the low of my stomach. 

I blow a breath. “Forgive me, my lord…” I start, slowly, calculating every single syllable that drops out of my mouth. I may be wrong but this person looks titled. No guard or worker could don such expensive fine leather and soft glistening gloves. 

“I only came down to—”

“To feed the slaves, I suppose?” he interrupts, raising one perfectly arched brow.

“Yes!” I blurt, clutching the shield of a lie. Thank goodness. “Exactly. Charity. Good deeds. Very… slave-like of me. I saw them being brought in earlier with the Alpha, so I wanted to just do something nice for those poor souls before they meet their deaths.”

His eyes drag over me like a touch. I can’t tell what color they are. Blue? Green? It’s difficult to tell whether or not he even believes me. 

He, then, gestures for me to follow him up the narrow stairs. “Walk with me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

We start walking. It mostly consists of me trying to catch up with his long regal strides all while managing to leave at least a distance of two feet between us.

“I used to sneak down here as a boy, tossing bread crusts to the prisoners. Thought I was a hero.” His boots echo softly through the unending path. Was it always this long? “Turns out I was just a pest with a soft heart.”

“Hm-hm.” Can I leave already? 

Where is he taking me? Not to Kane, I hope.

No one is nice in Blackhollow. Nice gets you flayed. Nice gets you disemboweled. Nice gets your head on a stake. 

My mind races. Where have I seen him? I squint, watching the back of his head. 

All of a sudden it clicks. The first day.

My first day here, when I was dragged in chains through the courtyard, he stood beside Kane. That’s where. 

Oh. He’s as much of a bastard as Kane then. 

We reach the top of the stairs, at the guard's post. Jabari, flushed, barrels toward me, fist raised. “You lying little cunt!”

The man lifts one hand. Jabari freezes like a dog called to heel.

“Easy,” the man says easy but the command is unmistakable. “I sent her to test you. Booze and women? Really, Jabari? You failed spectacularly.”

Jabari’s mouth hangs open. “Lord Draven, I—”

Draven.

Kane’s uncle. The pieces finally slot together.

Draven plucks the dungeon key from my limp fingers, twirls it around one finger. “I’ll ensure the prisoners are fed. You—” he nods at me, “—go back to your cot before someone less forgiving finds you.”

He walks me down the servants’ hall in silence and stops when we reach the door. “Be more careful. The Alpha won’t be so lenient if he catches you sneaking around.”

He turns around to leave but I stop him with a question. “But why? Why help me?”

He pauses, then smiles. I swear it feels genuine this time, “Because you make me laugh. No one in Blackhollow has had good humor in years.”

“I see.”

“Oh, and nobody could have seen the slaves when they were brought in. Alpha Kane took a different route. The back of the manor. A shiver runs down my spine. “Whatever you’re doing, do it reasonably. Here is not a place to get rebellious.”

He pulls a disappearing act before I can blink. The Alpha’s uncle just caught me in a dreadful lie.

My stomach doesn’t take kindly to that. 



The first lash of Greta’s cane slices across my shoulder blades before I’m even fully awake, a white-hot line that rips a gasp from my throat and yanks me upright on the cot. 

BITCHH!!

“Ah!” I cry. 

The second follows immediately, then a third, the old woman’s voice rising in a shrill crescendo that could shatter glass. “Lazy, wayward slut! Didn’t scrub a single pot, did you? Out all night spreading your legs for the guards, I wager!”

I am going to rip her tiny, skinny skull from her shoulder and make a nice jacket out of her old scaly flesh. 

Gonna make a cup out of her bones.

I taste blood where I’ve bitten my tongue. “I’m sorry—” I start,  but the apology is a reflex.

It’s the opposite of what I want to do to the old hag.

“Shut up! How many fucked you? Huh?” Another strike comes, sending pain blossoming in my side. “You whore!”

I surge forward and catch the cane mid-swing, then I yank Greta so close her sour breath fogs my face. 

Her eyes bulge, watery and yellowed, as I twist the wood until it bites into her knuckles. “Touch me again,” I hiss, low enough only she hears, “and I’ll make sure this hand never holds anything heavier than your own tongue.”

Greta’s mouth falls open. “Demon. You demon!”

I laugh hysterically, flinging the cane to the other end of the room. “Joining the club, hag.”

“The Alpha would hear of this!”

A timid knock interrupts us. A young maid peeks through the door, “Someone’s here for Nyx.”

I release Greta so fast she stumbles, shooting me a glare. 

My heart does a stupid, traitorous flip. Kane? I immediately squash it flat. I smooth my torn dress, wipe the blood from my lip, and step into the corridor.

It’s not Kane.

I don’t know if what I feel is relief or disappointment when I see Sable waiting by the archway, sunlight catching the red in her hair like fresh flame. 

She looks like light.

This woman is gorging. 

She beams when she sees me, then clears her throat. “Chore for you,” she announces, loud enough for the lingering maids to hear. The grin she flashes me is pure mischief. “There’s so much I need you to help me clean, maid.”

I grin. She’s a bad liar. And I hate to admit but a part of me brightens up at the sight of her. I curtsey, “Yes, my lady.”

“Come with.”

We’re barely three steps down the hall when someone yells. “Stop right there.”

That whiny, pitcher voice. “Gods…” I groan. 

Daciana.

She glides toward us in a gown the color of fresh cream. The diamonds on her neck wink. She looks every inch the untouchable Luna.

And I despise her to bits. 

All the maids drop into bows so low their noses almost brush stone. Sable curtsies with theatrical grace,  I follow a beat late, making sure she notices.

Daciana, frowning, slides her gaze over me then flits to Sable. “Where do you think you’re taking my maid, Lady Sable?”