Acid, rancid and sour, licked at the back of my throat. It swept onto my tongue, making me want to retch as my heart drummed in my ears. My hand reached for the goblet all on its own, nails digging into the material, forming a notch there as the King let wine gulp into it, seasoning the air with its macabre sweetness.

Not alabaster.

Not stone at all.

I’d walked on the dead, slept on them, had bathed surrounded by—

I swung a hand to my mouth, letting saliva pool underneath my tongue. One swallow. Even a drop of it running down my throat, and I would vomit onto the remnants of… people. Mothers, children, grandfathers, compacted into a bed, a tub…

…a goblet.

A goblet he prodded against my lips, demanding I drink from what had been a corpse only moments ago. “I made it just for you.”

When he shrugged and sipped from it instead, my gaze fell to my dress, all blood leeching from my veins until my limbs numbed. “And what did you use to make my dress?”

Another swallow from the goblet. “Take a guess, mortal.”

Skin.

Death covered me from my collarbone to my ankles, safe for where my breast had spilled from a rip in vulgar display. Everything around me spun, and I slipped off his lap, swaying for balance. Out. I needed out of this place.

I staggered down the dais. Blood rushed inside my ears with such force, it drowned out my steps as I hurried to the bridge. Only the King’s laugh overwhelmed it. “Ah, yes, follow the notches back to the safety of your cage.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 6

OceanofPDF.com

Ada

Warm clothes.

Provisions.

Sturdy shoes.

I put on the slippers the King had made for me, perhaps from the hide of a cow, but it might as well have been someone’s son. While far from sturdy, they would have to do. I could still pull some boots off a corpse outside, same with a thick coat to hide from the cold. Provisions, however, proved to be an issue.

Until the door opened and Orlaigh stepped into my cage, as the King had called it. “Breakfast, lass.”

For once, good timing. “I want to bathe.”

With a sigh, she closed the door using one hand while balancing a plate on the other. A plate made of bone—like everything in this crooked kingdom—loaded with slices of bread. It seasoned the air with yeast and the heartiness of butter, the scents strangely familiar in a place this rotten.

One I would escape once and for all.

She lowered it onto my bed, then hooked her hands onto her hips. “Ye dinnae look in need of one to me.”

Yet I had never felt filthier in my life. “Where’s your master?”

“Attending dead beasts.”

Making my chances of escape all the better, no matter how slim it left them. I wouldn’t stay in this kingdom built on death, ruled by a mad… whatever he was. In spite of his determination to keep me prisoner, how likely would he chase after me, leaving a place he hadn’t stepped out of for over a hundred years? Small.

And if he followed…?

All the better.

He would bring rot to Hemdale—if I made it that far. That alone was worth whatever punishment he would come up with if he caught me. What was the worst he could do? Turn me into a chair? Weave me through his throne? He wanted me alive, that much he’d made clear—corpses presumably made poor whores.

I grabbed a slice of bread, since the walk to Hemdale would take at least a day if I avoided the roads, leaving me no time to beg for food at nearby farms. “Will you bring water for a bath?”

“Ach, lass—”

“Please help me. I’ll try to run no matter what, but…” I set my pleading eyes on her, not knowing if I could trust this corpse, but I had no other options. “With your help, I’ll stand a better chance.”

After endless seconds, she cursed under her breath and walked toward the door. “Very well. If a bath is what ye want, I best hurry for water before it cools down.”

I grabbed the bread and pushed it between my breasts for lack of better storage. My stomach hardened when I walked to the door, and not only because of the groans resonating behind the bone. If I told the priests how I’d entered the Pale Court, would they call me mad? Or would they come for the King, finally serving him the justice he deserved?

Three deep breaths bought me a sense of calm no matter how brittle. I reached for the handle, my muscles tensing, readying themselves to fight through seven corpses.

No… not seven.

Six.

One was a cup now.

I pulled the door open wide and jumped back, only to brace my soles against the ground. With a hard thrust of my legs, I let myself slam against the two corpses standing there.

A limb thudded to the ground.

Thud. And another.

Putrid and biting, the stench of what had to be rot crept into my nostrils, making me nauseous, but I wouldn’t let that stop me. I elbowed my way through decrepit bodies, ignoring their groans, the snap of their teeth, those rough nails scratching along my arms, neck, calf until—

The corpse in front of me turned his head with such speed, his tongue slapped against his cheek like a dead snake, all because he had no lower jaw. “Ay-gaaah!”

The moment he reached for me, I ducked. One kick against his shin and the bone splintered, frayed edges cutting through his parchment-thin skin. He flailed his arms for balance, but hit the ground a moment later.

I didn’t look back. Ignored the tremor in my knees, the blur in my vision, the unsteadiness of legs threatening to snap… and ran.

Straight along the hallway.

Left at the first notch.

Right at the two next.

“Ayyy-gaaah!”

My butchered name resonated the hallway, the agony on the corpses’ tone blood-curdling.

Heavy footfalls sounded behind me.

Close. Closer.

My shoes slapped the bone bridge beneath me, eyes nervously flicking to the throne. Empty. My heart matched each beat with panic until…

No!

Sharp pikes of bone shot up from the ground around the dais. I skidded to a halt, the hem of my chemise catching on them, ripping with a hrrk as I turned to the next bridge. Was it the one to the Æfen Gate?

No matter.

Out! Just out!

“Going somewhere, my little mortal?” My heart stopped at the chuckle that followed. No, this couldn’t be. Where was he? “What entertainment you’ve turned out to be.”

The ground shook, lifting and thickening. I stumbled back and fell. Rolled. Rolled again until the chamber distorted into specks of light and dark.

I crawled, squirmed.

A hand grabbed my ankle.

I glanced back.

No, not a hand.

Gray and brittle, a bracelet of bone anchored me to the ground. I kicked it with the heel of my shoe. Once. Twice. The third kick shattered it, and I pushed myself back into a run, arms flailing for balance as I headed toward the bridge.

Any bridge.

More bone roped around my calves, but the force of my thrusts shattered them all. To my left, the King strolled toward me, letting a sense of dread spread through my core. Worse was how he suddenly stopped, a cruel twitch coming over his upper lip.

“You’ll never leave me, little one,” he said as his smirk sobered into a grim line. “Now stop, or I’ll have to make you.”

He could try. “Never.”

Another step.

Crack! Crack!

Pain shot into my legs.

I staggered for an excruciating step, and another, as if on bowlegged stilts someone had set aflame. I fell to the ground, palms sliding over the porous bone, chafing me raw. What had he done? I looked at my legs, feeling my lungs deflate and die in my chest. No, I would run nowhere.