Chapter 15 Fifteen.
A guard shoves a bucket of murky water and a ragged cloth into my hands. The stench of iron rises from it, and the water is already tinged pink with old blood.
“Clean it,” he orders, nodding toward the guillotine.
The palace square is empty now, save for a few guards and me. Eliana has been led away, and while I was still reeling from everything Katniss said, King Sven revealed the true reason he summoned me this morning. I'm to clean up the guillotine platform each time there's an execution.
Right now, I’m to scrub away the remains of Carter, and the blood of his family. The sight is enough for me to puke, but I don't as I fall to my knees and start cleaning.
“Scrub harder. Put your damn back into it,” the guard supervising me sneers. “Or do Fae hands blister easily?”
I don’t answer. Knowing the history between Faes and werewolves has helped tame my tongue and my opinion. It's not me they hate, it's the lineage tied to me. If only there's a way I can show them that my brother and I are different… that we're not like those who had their grandparents in chains then I would have. But I doubt they care enough to listen to anything I have to say.
When I finish, I'm sent to the back of the palace to clean nearly thirty dungeons. I do it without complaint. By the time I’m done, it’s already nightfall, and I’m starving.
A guard escorts me to my room. The gnawing hunger reminds me I haven’t eaten all day.
Back inside, I head straight for the bathroom and run a hot bath, desperate to wash away the stench and dried blood clinging to my skin.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I mutter, stepping into the room naked and grabbing the towel I’d left on the bed that morning.
I return back to the bathroom to wash the dress I wore—my only one. I hang it over the door to dry. The robe I wore last night is missing; Madam Leticia probably took it for laundering.
Wrapped in the towel, I walk to the window. I can’t get too close because of the spell, but I still appreciate the view I’m allowed.
For a moment, I close my eyes and let the silence wrap around me. I whisper a prayer for my brother's safety. Then I pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere far from this palace. Somewhere where my lineage doesn’t link me to the sins of Eris.
Did my parents even know what our people did? Did they agree with it?! They must have known… but what was their stance?
The sudden creak of the door draws my attention. I clutch the towel tighter around me and turn.
King Sven steps inside, carrying a tray. The scent of warm stew and fresh bread fills the room, and it makes my mouth water.
I don’t even have the energy to glare at him tonight, but my mouth still works. “Come to check if your little Fae is still breathing?”
He raises a brow but says nothing at first. He sets the tray on the small table beside the bed with care, then straightens to face me. “You haven’t eaten,” he says, eyes flickering to the towel around my chest. “I thought you might be half dead by now, and I can't have that happening. You need to eat for the child you might carry one day.”
“You could have had one of your people bring it up rather than you.”
“And how am I supposed to bed you if I don’t come personally?”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Why what? Why do I want to bed you?”
“No. Why does it have to be me?” I push. “I hate you, Sven, and you hate my kind, don’t you? Which you have every reason to. I might be your mate for some god forsaken reason that we don't know, but you and I both know you can choose to reject the bond and it also won't change a thing, so why? Why aren't you doing that? You could kill me right now, and it wouldn’t matter. Why go to the trouble of sleeping with someone you hate? I don't get it.”
“I’m not nice,” he says, as if that explains everything.
And it makes me scoff. “Tell me something I don't know. You literally have a book titled A Million Ways to Kill handbook.”
“There’s no bite in your words tonight,” he observes, stepping closer. “I killed the boy who helped your brother escape. I placed a bounty on your brother’s head. And still, no bite. Why?”
“Trying to change the subject?” I ask, forcing myself not to cry again as I'm reminded of today's event and the bounty on my brother's head. I’ve shed enough tears today. All they gave me was a headache. “If you must know, I still hate you, Sven. I know you and you kind are victims of the Kingdom of Eris, but I will never forgive you for taking my parents' life, for killing Carter and putting a bounty on my brother's head. You want my bite, my hatred, my tears? I know that already, which is why I won't satisfy your sadistic cravings.”
King Sven doesn't flinch. Doesn't say a word.
“Answer my question, Sven. And don't try to change the subject this time,” I say, headstrong. At this point, I couldn't care less about how I speak to him.
“And I already gave you my answer before, little Fae,” King Sven's voice is calm. “I need you to give me a child.”
“Yes, but why does it have to be me? You have Katniss, don't you?”
“I can’t give you the answers you want tonight,” he replies. His tone is quieter now, more composed. Too composed. It unsettles me because it feels way out of character. “I’m not nice…”
“You’ve said that already,” I mutter, looking away as I sit on the bed.
“I know. But if I were nice…” He trails off again, the words hanging like smoke in the air.
While I take my gaze back to him as I wait for what he has to say.
“If I were nice,” he repeats, almost to himself, “I wouldn’t have lived past the age of thirteen.”
His gaze shifts toward the floor, not looking at me, not really looking anywhere. The predatory look he always wears slips, just for a second, and I see something else beneath it. Something… broken.
“If I were nice, I’d be buried beside people who begged for mercy and got none.”
My breath catches in my throat. For once, I don’t have a comeback. Not because I feel compelled by his cryptic words. I don’t. But because I don’t understand him. I don't know his story. And I think that’s what frightens me most.
“If I were nice, you wouldn't be here right now with those chains on your ankles because I wouldn't have taken revenge against Eris ten years ago. The thousands of people I've killed directly or indirectly would be alive right now, including the boy you cried for.”
He looks up again, and just like that, the cold mask slides back into place.
“But I’m not. So you’re still here,” he adds coldly.
He turns and walks toward the door but pauses with his hand on the handle.
“Eat, Little Fae. You’ll need your strength for what's to come tomorrow.”
And then he’s gone, leaving only silence and the scent of bread I no longer have the appetite for.
I shift on the bed, his words churning in my mind. It hit me then—he didn’t try to touch me tonight, despite bringing food under that pretence. Something about him felt… different. Quieter. Although, his last statement makes me wonder what exactly is happening tomorrow that would require my strength.
•••
“You might as well suggest I walk out there naked,” I say flatly, eyes locked on Isadora.
The dress she’s given me this morning is absurd. It’s longer than the brown one from yesterday, but made of mesh; so sheer that my entire body might as well be on display. She even had some maid come tend to my hair.
Isadora shrugs. “It’s what King Sven has requested. You’ll be attending the Pegasus today to meet with him. It’s the celebration of the Kingdom of Māui’s freedom from Eris—fifty years ago today. Dignitaries from other kingdoms are here, and everyone’s talking about the first slave King Sven has ever taken.” Her gaze lingers on me. “You.”
“So I’m being paraded at the Pegasus?”
“Kind of,” she replies. “Think of it as a warm-up before the main celebration. Only those within King Sven’s inner circle are invited, including their personal slaves.”
Her words make me think of what King Sven said last night—that I needed to eat, because I’d need my strength for today. I didn’t understand then, and I’m not sure I do now. “What do slaves have to do with a gathering of kings and their closest allies?”
Isadora hesitates. I can see the conflict in her expression as she weighs whether or not to a
nswer. When she finally speaks, I almost wish she hadn’t. “Sex. Dancing. Fights to the death. Voyeurism. King Sven allows his circle to do what they please to you.”