The Cold King (22 page)

The new coldness made her face ache and she wondered how long she had been out. Disoriented and in pain, she followed the lights and sounds of revelry, never leaving the side of the building.

Her ankles ached but she pushed on as quickly and quietly as she could. Eventually she had to cross an open alleyway to reach the tavern and she rushed across as soon as she was sure no one was looking. Holding her breath again she risked peeking into one of the low windows. No Marchello.

Fear spurned her on and she rushed out to the street. The carriage was not waiting for her.

Calia would have to walk that long road again, for the third time. Sharp bolts of pain lanced through head with each heart beat and her ankles felt too large for her shoes. With an exhausted sigh she took her first step back to the castle.

Voices rang out in the darkness and Calia leapt for the cover of trees.

Wetness from the ground soaked into her skirts, making them even heavier and her even colder. Crouched in the scratchy bushes she strained to hear the brothers voices but didn’t’. Cautiously Calia crept back onto the road and began to make her way to the castle. It was a silent walk, other than her occasional groans of pain. The sky cleared enough for the moon to light her walk and she limped along, finally feeling safe.

The palace gates were in sight when she heard the galloping of hoofs. She dove into the underbrush, reopening her cuts as her face dragged against sharp branches.

The riders slowed as they passed her. “She’s got to be here somewhere,” Delmar whispered loudly.

“Oh really? What if she already made it back?”

“She could not have, we would already be dead. Besides, she’s hurt and can’t have gotten that far.”

Calia held her breath and waited. They meandered up to the gates and slowly came back down. From between the barren bushes she could see their faces scanning the woods. She waited until she could no longer hear the hoof beats and then waited several minutes longer.

Sure they were gone, she burst from the trees and ran up the road.

“There she is!” She heard the shout come from behind her.

Calia saved her breath and dove through the gate, slamming it shut behind her. The cobbled courtyard echoed her hurried steps and she leapt for the door at the front entrance.

Frantic, she twisted the knob but the door would not open. “Locked?” she cried to herself before taking up banging on the thick door.

The squealing of the front gates gave away the brothers trying to sneak onto the property and Calia slipped down off the stoop and ran as quietly as she could along the wall. The moon slid behind a cloud and she reached up hand to trail along the stone as she ran. In the darkness and so close to the castle she could not determine where exactly she was. But she could clearly hear the footsteps of the brothers as they pursued her.

“Please, please,” she whispered under her breath. The wall fell away and Calia stumbled into a prickly bush. The smell of the crushed petals let her knew she was in the garden. The moon slid out again and she could see it clearly. Hopeful yet still terrified, she jumped over plants and flowers, forcing herself to move faster and faster. She couldn’t tell if the thudding she was hearing was the footsteps of the brothers or her own blood whooshing in her ears.

The garden opened into a patio she thought she recognized. With nothing to impede her, she ran along the smooth stones, keeping her eyes up to find a lighted window she could scream at.

Suddenly she slammed full force into something much larger than herself. The momentum flung her back down to the ground and her head cracked painfully against it. Stars were bursting behind her closed eyelids and her stomach clenched. With her head swimming so violently she couldn’t sit up but managed to roll to her side and force her eyes open.

A pair of bare legs stood before her.

Calia moaned.

“What are you doing?” a dark, low voice asked. “How dare you?”

Calia painfully raised her eyes up past the perfect calves, up past the towel draped around a slim waist, up to a perfect but scared chest.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his face for the first time.

Scar tissue twisted along his cheekbones and around his eyes. His flesh appeared melted and stirred, worse on one side than the other. She looked to see that the scar extended down, or rather up. ‘His shirt must have caught fire and licked his ribs before gathering force and climbing up to his chest. The heat of it must have melted the delicate skin on his face,’ she thought numbly.

The king didn’t move, just stood before her, dripping wet at the side of the small pool. Warm tendrils of steam rose from its surface and smelled faintly of salt.

Relief flooded her as she realized it was just a bad burn he had been hiding. Not another woman, not an evil alter ego. Nothing but a scar, nothing but pain.

“Valanka,” she breathed, climbing to her feet. It took her a few tries and he didn’t extend his hand to help her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Her head swam and suddenly she remembered how she had got there. She spun around, looking for her would be rapists.

“The store owner’s sons, they are after me!”

The king glanced out into the darkness and saw nothing. His face twisted into angry sneer. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

She rocked back. “Best… what? I was attacked. Didn’t you wonder where I was, why I didn’t come back?”

“Was this all a plan?” he shouted, leaning his scarred face into hers. “To see me without my mask?”

“No,” she protested. Her mind was foggy and slow and when she put a hand to her head to stop the spinning, it came away bloody. “Look, I was attacked. I didn’t mean to come here; I was just looking for help.”

His anger didn’t fade. “No, you planned this. What is this? You hurt yourself just to see me?”

“You’re insane,” she cried. “I was abducted and hurt! They wanted to rape me!”

“Really?” he sneered, snatching his mask up from the table it sat on. He put it in place before turning to face her. “Where are they now?”

“I don’t know, they were right behind me.” Her head throbbed and she grabbed it with both hands, surprised she could not feel it pulsate.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed. “I’ve had servants betray me before, try to get a look at my face before, but never one as brazen as you.”

Calia stumbled on her swollen ankle but kept her feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I just wanted to get away from them.”

“No. No, you wanted to see what was under the mask. And to think I thought I loved you!”

Her heart soared at his words. “You love me?”

“I thought I did,” he ground out. “But you’re no better than the rest. You just wanted to see the beast like all the rest of them did. Well, here I am. What do you think?” He opened his arms wide, baring his chest and the scars that covered it.

Her voice was quiet but honest. “I think you’re as handsome without the mask as I thought you would be. They are just bad scars, they don’t make you a monster.”

He stepped forward, forcing her to look more closely and she could see how tightly the scars pulled across his body. It had to be painful. She glanced at the warm salt water pool behind him and realized he must swim in it nightly to sooth his skin.

“You’re not a monster,” she pleaded. “You’re a man. Maybe cursed, maybe immortal. But can’t you see how good you are, how good you can be? Can’t you see how you’ve changed?”

His face was stone. “My father could have healed these scars. He could have let me die. But instead he chose to let me live as a twisted man forever. And I have done my best to fill his shoes, to be a good ruler, to be the best king I could be. I succeeded until you came along.” He stiffened. “I should kill you for your transgressions.”

“Kill me?” she squeaked. “I came upon you on accident while running from my attackers!”

“Who conveniently aren’t here? Keep your lies to yourself.” He leaned down again. “Leave now, before I decide to take your life.”

Calia bit back a sob. “I can’t leave, they will be waiting for me.”

“So you say,” he bit off. “Leave now or forfeit your life for your disobedience.”

“Because I saw your face?” she cried.

“Because you are insolent! I can’t believe I ever wanted you.”

All the pain in her body could not compare to the pain in her already shattered heart. With one last look at her king, Calia nodded, gathered her strength and limped away.

It took her a long while to find the gate out of the palace grounds but eventually she did. And when she stepped through it, she did not look back.

Chapter Sixteen

“A
re you going to make
your announcement for a new servant soon?” Marchello asked.

The king straightened his mask and checked his cuff links. “I am. This morning.”

Marchello nodded and Valanka hated the sad, pathetic look on his face.

“Whenever you are ready, sir.”

The Cold King took his time, making sure everything about him was perfect. The carriage ride to town to make his announcement would wrinkle his clothes but that could not be helped. He smoothed his hair down and winced as the scar tissue around his shoulder pulled. It hurt everyday but he hid it along with his ugly face and chest.

For a moment the king fretted about his new, unknown servant. They would have to learn how to sew his shirts. For the first several years of his cursed existence he had worn clothes inside out to keep seams from rubbing on the scars. Any irritation burned and chafed.

The mask burned and chafed as well but he had learned to deal with it over the years. They had been lined with felt and silk and fur and feathers. Nothing eased the pain but it was better than having everyone look upon his horrid face.

The king slid a finger along the edge of the mask currently covering his face. That morning he had chosen the diamond mask with the rubies that made him look like a demon. It seemed the most fitting.

Anger and fear and regret had ruled him the last few days, stealing his sleep and concentration. Every knock on the door or creak in the hallway had him jumping up, waiting for her to come back into his life. But every day she didn’t come to forgive him for this latest transgression flamed his unsteady emotions. Couldn’t she see how it had pained him to send her away? How horrifying it was to have her gaze upon his bare face? If only she wasn’t so curious and if only she would come back and apologize for spying! He would forgive her, she only had to ask.

Pain brought him out of his thoughts and he looked down to see his hands clenched into white fists. Irritated, he loosened his fingers and straightened up. He was a man, an immortal and a king. One little girl couldn’t bring him to his knees.

But fear whispered in his mind, reminding him she
had
brought him to his knees and she could already be in the town, telling everyone their brave, magical king was just a scarred monster.

For once he wished he had a mirror to gaze in to reassure himself he looked as perfect as he hoped.

With a sigh he resigned himself to the fact he would always be an incomplete beast and went to down to the waiting butler.

The ride was long and bumpy. He hated it almost as much as he hated his own scarred body. He only had to do it one every so many years but it was almost marked with mourning, or relief, over his deceased servant and dread at including a new person in his life.

The trees passed quickly by the window but not quickly enough.

When Marchello pulled into the town square the king sat for a long moment, gathering his thoughts.

The silent, fearful crowd was already gathered when he exited the carriage. The king ignored them as he made his way to the town square.

He stepped up and looked over his people. Women cried and clutched their children and men snatched their hats from their heads and clutched them to their chests. He waited for a moment before speaking, trying to recall his standard speech. His mind failed him so he bluntly said the first thing he could force out.

“I require a new personal servant. Send the one you choose and I will receive them in my throne room tomorrow at dusk.” Again he gazed over them with his hidden eyes, gave a curt nod and stepped down from the platform.

Marchello was waiting for his nod, letting him know it was alright for him to leave, and the king gave it. He would walk home, just as he had every other time and he turned his back on the town.

But then his eye caught on one slight figure by the tavern.

The crowd skittishly parted for him but the girl disappeared inside before he could reach her.

The tavern was teaming with people and gossip that all stilled when he entered. The king ignored it all and searched the sweaty mass for what he thought he had seen.

His breath stopped as she came into view, rolling a massive barrel before her towards the bar. As he watched, the bar man casually stuck his hand down to clip her behind the ear.

Her. Calia. His Calia.

Only then did she lift her eyes, but she didn’t see the king. Her dark stare was focused on the man who had clipped her and she didn’t back down when he raised his hand again.

Valanka crossed the room in an instant, his mind a blank fury.

Finally the bar man noticed him and slowly lowered his hand. He blinked furiously and cleared his throat. “Can I get you a drink, Your Majesty?” he asked in a creaky voice.

Calia froze and then slowly turned.

The king’s stomach turned with horror and shock as her face came into view. Her perfection was marred with scabs and bruises. One cheek had been split and a dark goose egg showed at the edge of her hair line. She had been badly abused and his anger rose dangerously.

“Who did this to you?” he hissed, ignoring all the open eyes and ears around them.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes but wouldn’t look down either. “I already told you.”

He swallowed hard, thinking back to that awful night. “You attackers? From the other night?”

“Yes. Excuse me, I have work to do.”

The king didn’t move out of her way. Instead he dragged a finger along her lip, wiping away fresh blood. “And this?”

“I deserved that,” she said flatly, glancing at the bar man.