Sin Eater's Daughter 2 - The Sleeping Prince (27 page)

“No. No. They were dreams. They weren’t real.” My blood freezes. “No.”

He answers with a grin like a nightmare. “I’m a vitasmith. I can create life, Errin. So I did. I used your brother’s blood and made two little simulacra. I told him I’d protect them, and as long as I did, you’d both be safe. I called one Errin, that was you. And one was Trina. Trina was my favourite, actually. Easier to play with. Malleable.”

My ears are filled with a high-pitched sound as the puzzle clicks into place. The doll in the dream. He showed it to me. He said it was me. It was real. And… Oh Gods… Sweetling. My mother said it when she was under the curse. Except there is no curse. There is no Scarlet Varulv. It was him all along. He made her like that. He made her do those things to me.

He smiles again as he watches me put it together. “I liked to play with my little simulacra. There was something poetic about doing it during the full moon. Something mystical, like in the stories. I didn’t tell Lief; I don’t think he’d approve. But I do get bored.”

I turn my head, tears falling down my face. All those times my mother went for me. It was him. And all my dreams. He was there inside my head. I feel bile burning in my throat. “Why?” I ask in a small voice. I should be relieved Mama isn’t cursed, but this is worse.

“I was
robbed
, Errin.” He strokes my face with his thumb before turning it back to him. “Of my life. Of my inheritance. Snuffed out at barely twenty-two years old. I have spent five hundred years asleep. I woke to
nothing
. The legacy my family spent generations building is ash, scattered to the wind. I was promised a kingdom
,
” he snarls. “I was promised the greatest kingdom the world had ever known. And I will have one. If it means cobbling one together from the ruins of Lormere and Tregellan.”

His eyes bore into mine, lit with madness, made worse when he begins to laugh. “You should be thanking me. You of all people should be welcoming me. Look at you.” He pushes me away, holding me at arm’s length as he examines me. “You have nothing. You live governed by rich, ignorant men and women, liberals with no respect for tradition, or history, or hard work. They took your mother away and locked her up. They killed your blood, Lief told me. Your great-grandfather died at their hands. You should have always lived in a castle. I will give that to you. I will restore things to how they ought to be.”

I stare at him. “How they ought to be?”

“Mine.” He smiles wolfishly. “All mine, under my order, and at my pleasure. I told you, I have to scotch the nest, Errin,” he says gently. “That’s what you do with an infestation. It’s what we should have done in Tallith, instead of calling for the rat catcher. I see that now. Burn at the source.”

“You’re a monster,” I whisper.

“I’m a king. My father told me a king can rule through fear, or through love. Fifty years from now, the people will love me. They won’t remember this – and those who do will consider it the necessary dark before the dawn. When they have prosperity, and security, and know their place, they will be content and they will love me for it. But until then, I’ll rule through fear if I have to.”

He smiles at me lasciviously. “And then I will begin again. I will use Silas, and the chosen few I save, and I will breed new alchemists. I will find the last of the Sin Eater’s line and I will mount her head above my throne, I will have her hair woven into a crown, have her teeth strung on a chain as a necklace. And when I am safe I will make these lands glorious, Errin. Like Tallith was. And even you will learn to love me for it. You will give me your fealty. You and I, and Silas and Lief, and whomever else I deem worthy will stay with me in these lands and be a court. For ever.”

He kisses me on the forehead, pushing my hair behind my ears. Then he pulls me so close that our noses touch. I can taste his breath, faintly metallic, faintly rotten, decaying, like the smell of his golems. “I have been asleep for five hundred years, save for when I woke to eat the hearts of silly little girls like you. I ate the heart of my own son to give me the strength to make my golems. And if you don’t shut your mouth and kneel to me, I will eat your mother’s heart, and then your brother’s heart. I will find everyone you’ve ever known: your childhood best friend, your first sweetheart, everyone who was ever kind to you. And I will rip their hearts from their chests and eat them while you watch.”

He smiles viciously. “And I will make Silas create Elixir until he’s nothing but rot. I will have him make it, and I will pour it from the window in front of you both, and then I will make him do it again. The more you defy me, the worse it will be for everyone.”

“Why do I matter to you?” I say, my voice breaking.

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I can. Because I slept for five hundred years and now I want some sport.” He lets go of my arms and looks at me expectantly. “So make your choice.”

I don’t look at the screen Twylla is hiding behind.

I kneel.

“Dance with me.”

It’s the stuff of dreams, to stand in the arms of a handsome prince while he smiles down at you. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb moving lightly across the bone as we dance. There’s no music, but we don’t need it; this ball is just for us two, intimate and full of promises. He’s happy; I can see the light of it in his eyes, the way his gaze rests on mine before it lowers, flickering down to my lips and then back up. His body asks a question now; his fingers press lightly into my flesh when he draws my face to his.

When there’s no more space between us I lower my eyelids. Then I stab him in the throat with the knife I stole from my breakfast tray this morning. It’s blunt, but I put all of my body into the strike.

He staggers back, his eyes wide, and I curl my hands into claws, watching blood cascade down over his blue velvet collar, staining his shirt.

He pulls the knife out of his neck and plunges it into my stomach. I crumple to the floor as pain explodes across my body.

No. No.

Blood spills over my hands as I hold the hilt, instinct telling me to tear the knife out of my abdomen, to get rid of the thing that’s making my vision blacken at the edges. I’ll die if I pull it out. Maybe it’s better that way.

I test the handle, and then his hand is wrapped around my jaw, forcing my head back and my mouth open as he pours liquid into it. He clamps my jaw shut. “Swallow,” he hisses and I do, screaming when he pulls the knife roughly out of me.

By the time I look down the blood has stopped, the wound is closing, I can see it through the tear in my red velvet dress. I slump to the ground, lying on the floor of the ballroom in a puddle of our mingled blood. He lowers himself to the ground next to me.

“This has to stop,” he says finally, close as a lover. “Why do you keep doing this? I’ve given you everything; you live in a castle, for crying out loud. I’m retrieving your mother; I reunited you with your brother. I feed and clothe you. I ask for nothing from you, save your company. What do you want from me? Because frankly, Errin, this is getting boring.”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

“Ahhh, but I’m fond of you.” He smiles at me.

“Because I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He speaks softly, his voice a caress. “You can’t. Look at me, Errin. What do you see?”

I look away and then his fingers are on my chin, forcing my head around. I look at him. His golden, hawk-like eyes, his silver-white hair. His handsome, hateful face.

“You’ll despise me for ever because I wear his face,” he says. “And as much as you hate me, you can’t help but want me a little, because I look like him. Same eyes, same hair. Same smile.” His lips spread into a grin – that grin – and I know he’s beaten me again. “It kills you. Every time. And that’s why I can’t let you go. So you will learn to control yourself, or I will deal with it, my way.” His expression deadens, becoming as guileless as any predator’s and my stomach lurches again.

“Clean yourself up.” He stands without offering me his hand. “I think we’ll ask your Silas to dine with us tonight. What do you think of that, sweetling?” I stay silent, my heart beating strongly as I wait for the punchline. With Aurek there’s always a punchline.

“Of course, he’d have to be carried. And fed. It would be quite unsightly, really. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind though. You wouldn’t, would you? You took care of your mother when she ailed; it’s not so different. Of course your mother still had the use of her arms and legs, though she chose not to use them. Whereas poor Silas … he has no choice.”

“Stop…” I whisper, my mouth filling with the strange taste that heralds vomiting.

“I’d like to see it.” His voice is deeper, as though the idea pleases him. “You, cutting his meat, raising a fork to his mouth. Waiting for him to chew and swallow. Wiping his mouth for him.” Each word is like a needle, puncturing me. “I don’t know how far the Nigredo has advanced up his legs. Last I knew it was below the knee, but now … it could be up to his thighs. I wonder whether he’ll choose to stand or sit for the rest of his life? What would you choose, Errin? Sitting or standing?”

I can’t help myself; I vomit. Heaving and gagging as my stomach empties itself on my ruined dress, on the floor.

He takes a step back and I can hear the disgust in his voice. “You’re a mess. Go and bathe. I’ll have a new dress sent for you to dine in.”

His boots stalk away, his footsteps ringing across the ballroom. Then they squeal against the wooden floor as he turns back to me.

“Ah, I am a fool. I can’t invite him for dinner. He won’t have time. He has to make more Elixir to replace what I used on you. Still, I suppose he won’t mind, seeing as it saved your life. Take her to her room,” he orders a hidden person in the corner of the ballroom.

The door clicks neatly behind him as he leaves and salty tears join the mess of blood and vomit on the once-beautiful dress.

Silently, the servant appears from his station in the shadows, dressed in a rough grey tabard and matching breeches. He stands over me, his dark eyes full of sympathy. His hair is shorn close to his skull, his jaw set as he offers a hand to help me up. I knock it away. I want no help from a coward who bends his knee to the Sleeping Prince to save his skin.

Like I did.

“Forgive me,” he says, stepping back to give me room to stand.

I haul myself up and smooth down the dress. I wonder if it was one of Twylla’s, and then I wonder how she is, where she is. I hope she got away, far, far away from here. I look down at the gown and crumple the skirts in my fists. I wonder if she ever danced in this room.

I walk slowly from the room. Even though I’m no longer injured, my mind is telling me to be careful, that I’m still hurt. The guards at the door don’t look at me as I pass. The servant trails behind me, his presence an annoyance all the way down the corridor. When we reach the south tower, he makes as if to escort me up to my bedroom. I try to slam the door in his face but he wedges himself in the gap.

“Move,” I order, and he shakes his head, holding a finger to his lips and pointing down the stairs.

“I said move.” I say it louder, but the servant stands his ground, refusing my command.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispers. “Please. I have but a few moments. You’ll want to listen to me.”

I look at him, then shrug, turning away as he closes the door.

“Well?” I ask, looking back at him.

“Is Twylla still alive?” His eyes are wide, his body leaning towards mine with the earnestness of his question. “Do you know where she is? Please. If you know anything…”

“As if I’d tell you, traitor.”

“Are you still a friend to her?”

I stay silent, watching him.

“All right. Are you a friend to the Sleeping Prince?”

I look down at the ruined dress.

The servant nods as though I’ve spoken. “Why did you stab him? You know it won’t kill him.”

“Because it makes me feel better,” I spit, immediately wishing I could control both my tongue and my temper.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, the corner of his mouth twitches as though he’s holding back a smile. “Or is it because you’re trying to collect some of his blood?”

“What?” The room seems to shrink and I glance around, looking for something to defend myself with.

“I’ve heard about you. You’re an apothecary. I know what Tregellian apothecaries can do. I know they can break potions apart, find what they’re made of.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

His eyes lock on mine. “You always try to hurt him in a way that will make him bleed. Always. I think you want his blood to test. To take it apart. To find a way to stop him. And I want to help you.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“What if I said I knew a way out of here? What if I promised to help you get what you need, and then to get out of here with it? Would that change things? I can get you out of here, Errin. Whenever you wish.” He pauses, looking at me from the side of his eye and taking a deep breath. “It used to be my castle.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and then I look at him, scouring his face. Yes… Yes, in the tilt of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. The curly hair is shorn, and the clothes are simple and tatty, but now I see it: that face looking down from the back of a white horse, so many moons ago. “We all thought you were dead.”

“One thing I learned from what happened to the Tregellian royal family is that if there are those at your gates who mean you ill, you have two choices. Run, or die. And a dead king is useless.”

“You mean to take back the kingdom?”

“If a Sleeping Prince can awaken, then surely a dead king can?” He smiles without moving his mouth at all. Something in his eyes conveys a big, bold grin. I find myself grinning back.

“Why not indeed, Your Majesty?”

“Call me Merek,” he says. “All of my friends do.”