Was I… crying?

Yes, I was, because he wiped a tear from my cheek and left. Each step of distance he brought between us returned strength to my muscles, yet I remained on my knees, listening to the quickening pound of my heart. Corpses in the corridors or not, I needed to get out of here.

I’d rather be a fool than his whore.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 4

OceanofPDF.com

Ada

I woke with my hands between my legs, three fingers wet to the second knuckle. They stroked at my swollen folds, pushed into my drenched center, and curled inside my channel until—

Mmm!

My lewd moan brought me to my senses, and I pulled my hand from my sex. God’s bones, what was wrong with me? Why would I wake soaked like a harlot who’d heard the clank of coins, writhing and bucking against my palm?

Wiping my fingers on a fur, I rose and glanced about the room. I was trapped between four walls, the only source of light a magical glimmer emanating from the all-surrounding alabaster. Was it night? Day? How long had I—

I shuddered.

There was that noise again.

It had lulled me to sleep, the cacophony of never-ending groans resonating from the hallway. Behind those doors, brittle corpses grunted and wheezed, shedding limbs if they as much as bumped into each other. I’d seen it! If I stepped through there now, they would snap their brown teeth and dig their fingers into the skin of my arms.

I knew.

Because I’d tried.

Twice.

My eyes went to the chemise Orlaigh must have laid out at the end of my bed—washed, starched, the tattered parts neatly stitched together. I slipped into it while my feet returned to the matted trail yesterday’s pacing had left on the ground.

Back and forth I crossed the empty room, my gaze flicking to the door once, twice. Just how many corpses had I seen in the hallway? Five? Seven? Devil be damned, pacing would bring me no answers.

No answers, no escape.

Legs stiff underneath me, I stepped toward the doors. Each grunt rattling from behind shook my heart. Each shuffle of feet trembled those fingers I had reached toward the lever handle. How fast did corpses run, anyway?

I pressed the handle down.

A gap creaked open.

“Dinnea even think about running, lass,” Orlaigh said with a swat of her hand where she stood at the door, surrounded by two corpses, three, five—

She squeezed in and shut the door.

Curse my poor timing! “Are you going to tattle on me?”

“Nay,” she said like the friend I’d thought I might find in her, but what I needed was an ally. “Did ye get enough sleep?”

Enough? Too much?

I sighed, not bothering to ask just how long I’d slept—an hour or a day. “I heard your master say something about another gate. How many are there?”

“Four.”

“And they lead where?”

“To the four realms of man, from the snow-tipped mountains behind the Nocten Gate, where I was born, to the rocky steppes behind the Solten Gate, and everything between.” From where it hung draped over her arm, Orlaigh clasped a dress between her black-tipped fingers and let it fan out in all its shimmering beauty. “Look what me Master made for ye.”

Again this word… Made.

I let my hand run over the dress’s soft train, its hundreds of leaf-shaped pieces gently tingling against my palm. Almost like an intricate filigree of gold, the finest threads of silk veined together in a hundred shades of brown, forming a layer so thin it looked like paper.

When Orlaigh held it out before me with an encouraging nod, I climbed into the dress. “I’ve never seen something like this before. It’s almost as though someone gathered leaves, rolled them, pressed them, and once dry, sewed them together.”

She pursed her lips. “Master wants to see ye.”

My breath caught on the boned bodice she strapped tight around my ribs, ends poking into my lungs until they burned with the foreboding flicker of dread.

Dread and determination.

Even if I had to face the King, this was my chance to stake out the Pale Court. Which way lay the Æfen Gate? When did the King take his meals? Where was his chamber, and when did he retreat there?

“Your skin is turning darker.” I pointed at the smudges of black running along her nail bed. “What’s the discoloration on your fingers?”

“It’s rot, lass. The Pale Court wants to rest me body, but me Master makes it go away before we corpses crumble.”

Up close, rot was… disgusting.

Even so, voicing it would be rude, so I nodded. “It’s how you can go to nearby villages undetected for my food. Helfa knows no villager would trust a corpse who suddenly talks and requests stew.”

“Nay, lass. I learned that when they found me out once, chopping me head off. What we fear most is what we don’t understand.”

Now I felt sorry for her. “The King said no age shall befall my warm body while in his service. What did he mean by that?”

“King of Flesh and Bone,” she scoffed, and a soft smile lined her lips as she pulled a pair of silk slippers from the pockets of her dress, letting them fall to the ground with a thud-thud. “Aye, he had a good laugh when he came from yer room. See, lass, me Master commands all flesh and bone. Time wrinkles yer skin, and he straightens it.”

That took me aback. “So, he controls the dead and the living?”

She nodded.

And it had to be true.

Why else had I kneeled at his command?

I slipped into the shoes made of soft leather adorned with white beads. “Why did he bind your soul and keep you as a servant?”

She competently tugged on the train, as if her fingers had once known how such silk had to fall. “Ach, lass, I stole from me Master.”

“Stole what?”

Her lips pressed into a dark purple line for a moment. “Something most precious to him; its loss so great, it drove the man insane.”

Sounded about right.

“Some treasure?” The woman said nothing, but I kept pestering her for answers, nonetheless. “Is it the reason he cursed our lands? Made it so the dead won’t rot in the ground?”

“It’s no curse, lass.” She reached up and brushed the tangles from my strands. “Me Master simply no longer leaves the Pale Court to ride about the lands and spread rot.”

Ride to spread rot? I’d never heard of that before. But then again, the high priests had burned most books about the King—the stories about him nothing but distorted snippets and fading memories. If Orlaigh spoke the truth and I ran, would the King give chase and bring rot to Hemdale? To John?

One more reason to run.

“It must have been a long time since he left.” Chances were he wouldn’t even bother chasing me, and now I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. “The corpses outside are falling apart. One grabbed me and a finger fell off.”

“They’re old, so very old, and keeping the rot from them takes me Master great effort.”

Or, in short, if I barraged through them with brute force, I might get away. “How many guard the hallway exactly?”

“Ach, lass, I only tell ye these things because ye will find out on yer own, anyway. Dinnae go making things harder on yerself, plotting yer escape.”

“Don’t blame me for trying to do something you once did. My father’s sick, my husband likely trapped in some groanpit until the next full moon. The miller’s wife from the next village over is pregnant with twins and needs care. Even if I fail, at least I can say that I tried.”

She stared at me for a long moment, as if gauging my resolve, and something akin to pity came over her grandmotherly features. “Ye won’t rest until ye tried, will ye?”