Chapter 17: Seventeen - Fated to the Hollow King

Before the evening meal, I stood in line, waiting to enter the hall. Betta came out, touched my shoulder, and beckoned. I followed her through the twisting halls to a room, her private chambers, I thought. She shut the door and leaned against it. “Where were you?”

“What do you mean?” I breathed.

“This morning, you missed practice. The Warden assigned to guard you couldn’t find you, and someone reported clothing missing from the laundry.” Her dark eyes held mine. “Your behavior has been inconsistent as of late, Gazelle. I want to help you. I want to keep your name clear, but you’re not helping your cause.”

“Is Sacred Mother coming here to choose a new Lead Dancer and oversee the vote for Rift Mother? Is my place here being taken away?”

Betta softened. “Oh, Gazelle. Is that what this is about?”

“And what happened to the other Lead Dancers? Why aren’t they here? Is it true they gave their souls to the dance and died young?”

“Gazelle, you know what we do here. Ask questions, but do not doubt. Right now, you are the Lead Dancer. You will dance at the full moon. What happens afterward can be dealt with then. Do not lose your focus making up ideas of who is coming and for what.” Her voice firmed. “Sacred Mother is coming to the palace to see our progress. We’ve suffered a great devastation. Rift Mother is gone; by all rights, we should all be grieving, yet we must go on. You are a leader here. I suggest you act like it and don’t give Sacred Mother any reason to doubt your skills.”

The tongue-lashing drew me up sharp.

Had I been so focused inward?

I hadn’t once considered how the other dancers might be feeling, how they looked to me for guidance, and I’d ignored everyone. I’d been selfish. I needed to rectify my actions. And in the same breath, I realized something discomforting: I didn’t have a friend in Betta. I couldn’t confide in her. My question about demigods and demons died on my tongue.

I bowed my head. “I will do better.”

“Good.” She gripped my shoulder. “You choose what defines you. Don’t lose yourself now.”

Later, I knelt by my bed, feeling like a shell of myself. I’d forced myself through the rituals, dinner, checking in on the younger dancers, visiting the pools. Verena did not approach me, and I ignored her, wading from group to group instead, asking each dancer how they fared, whether the death sat heavy on them, whether I could be of any use. Every word felt false on my tongue, each nod, every wide-eyed answer only confirmed two things. One, they were afraid of me. The rumors were true. Someone was trying to tarnish my reputation. The second was a question I held close. How could I betray them?

I sat there, clean and dressed, my sheer nightgown clinging to my curves. Tiredness lingered. I needed to sleep, but it would not come. Today, I’d found no answers, only frustration and more questions for Airen. Had he tricked me? Lied to me? Why did I feel different in his presence than I did up here in the light?

My thoughts careened, and since sleep wouldn’t come, I rose and went to the wall, chanting.

Hollow King. Hollow King. Open the way.

The stones shuddered, and the hollows opened, wordless as a whisper. Tossing a shawl around my shoulders, I picked up my candle and carried it into the dark.

Tonight the passageway led me to a bedroom, and my feet sank into carpet. I paused. A creeping sensation came over me.

Airen was dressing. He turned when he saw me and pulled his shirt over his head. “Gazelle.”

His voice was rough yet warm, and something in it shifted everything inside me. Like a lure. I wanted to step forward and be enveloped in his warmth. And that wanting was exactly the thing I had come to fear, that down here I lost myself, my reason, the truths I had held so tightly all my life.

I leaned against the entrance, aware I could turn around and run should I choose. “What’s the difference between a demon and a demigod? Or is there one? They are one and the same, aren’t they?”

He brushed his hair away from his face and moved toward me, slow and deliberate, just like a predator stalking its prey. “What gave you that idea?”

“I went to the Hall of Records and spoke to a Keeper. I read a scroll, the tale of mortals and demigods.”

“Go on.”

“The demigods terrorized the mortals—humans—because they had magic, power. The balance was unfair. So, the mortals prayed to the gods, and they were given a dance, a power over the demigods. The story said nothing about demons.”

“I see. And what proof would satisfy you, knowing that each time I tell you a truth, you go back above and twist it into your own meaning? Must we fight each time? Must I convince you over and over again?”

“I’m not sure what you can give me. I’m not sure I should be here. Every time I come, I feel as though I’m under a spell. You’re using your magic on me, aren’t you?”

“Come,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

I hesitated only a moment, reminding myself that it wasn’t him I feared; it was the truth. I walked across the plush carpet, trying not to stare too hard at his bedroom—his innermost chamber, his most intimate space. Where he slept, dressed, and worked. Was this where he had lain all that time, dreaming? Holding onto memories of a past when he was free? I wondered how old he was, whether he had lived for hundreds of years, or whether he was as young as I. There were questions I had not asked him, afraid of the answer, afraid of what it might mean for me.

At the far end, he opened a door and stood in its frame. Pale blue light spilled from beyond it, a soft hue as though a giant sapphire were breathing. I moved to slip past him, but he caught me, his hand closing around my throat, walking me back against the doorframe. He loomed over me, eyes hard, and within them was something like emerald fire, dangerous and bright. Even though he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to cut off my air, it felt as though I were suffocating, like I couldn’t breathe.

He leaned close, molding his body against mine, lips feathering my ear. “Dare you come to my kingdom, dressed like that, as though you mean to seduce me? You come, and you question everything I’ve built. I’ve given you nothing but the truth, yet it isn’t good enough for you, is it? You gave me your word. Now I sense you going back on it, not once, not twice, but thrice. A bargain is a bargain, yet you question every motive, as if I’m not the one trying to save your life.” His breath was hot against my skin. “You’re making it difficult for me to keep my temper in check, and you don’t want me to lose my temper.”

How did he do that every time? Make me feel so weak, yet so strong? As though I’d come to seduce him. I looked down, realizing the state of my white nightgown against my brown skin. The material was sheer. I’d just come from bathing and hadn’t bothered to put on any undergarments. Even with my shawl, I was suddenly aware of how much he must be able to see. Especially up close. Especially like this.

One of his hands found my hips and gripped hard enough to bruise, as if it were the only thing keeping him from taking more. And it struck me, truly struck me, how much Airen might want me. It took every shred of will to lift my chin while his fingers slid lower, to the hollow of my throat.

“I dressed for bed,” I whispered. “I didn’t intend to dance; I didn’t intend to come at all. But I made a promise, and you are the only one giving me answers.” I held his gaze, feeling defiance rise. “Or pretending to.”

His thumb pressed harder, and I felt the growl that vibrated through his body.

Ignoring it, I went on. “I received some bad news today. Sacred Mother is coming to the palace. Tomorrow. She intends to find my replacement.”

His expression did not change. “And would that be so bad?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “It’s been my entire life. Without the dance, who am I?”

His hands left me, and he stepped out of the room into the pale blue light. “That, you’ll have to answer for yourself. It’s a sorry thing to build an entire life around the idea of one thing. I’d call it an obsession.”

“It’s what I was raised to do,” I protested, following him. “Trained to do my entire life. I don’t know another life without dancing.”

“Perhaps because you’re only focused on yourself and your accomplishments. Have you paused, for one moment, to look around?”

That surge of anger came again. “You’re like the others. They all think me selfish. Crazy. They think something is wrong with me. Some of them believe I killed those women.”

“And did you?” His voice dropped low. “Did you fall into a fit, hear that it was time to retire, time to be replaced, and slay those who might oppose you? Remove you? Did you commit the sin, and are now finding a way to absolve yourself of the guilt by seeking another murderer?”

“No!” I shouted. “No. It wasn’t me. I was here, in the dark that night. With you.”

“Were you? I wasn’t with you that night for more than a few moments before you ran away. I can account for your time here, with me, but not up there.”

“What are you trying to do to me? Confuse me? To make me distrust my own thoughts?”

“No.” His voice gentled. “I’m only showing you what they must be thinking, up above, and what they may do with it. Consider how you are seen, how you let yourself be seen. Think before you move. You must learn to be shrewd, Gazelle, if you mean to clear your name. I have offered to help you, but you don’t trust me. I can’t force trust, and I can’t stop you wondering whether I am what I claim. I have my own ends. I’ve never hidden that from you.” His eyes held mine. “But do not come into my kingdom and accuse me of being something I am not, just like up there they accuse you of being something you are not.”

I’d been wrong. I’d insulted him, and now I saw it. Unsure what to say, I followed him out, feeling the tension stretch between us as we walked.

He crossed the passageway, and as the light grew brighter, I realized we were on a balcony—no, not a balcony but a tier—overlooking a cascade of floors, halls, and passages, and open-air galleries that went down as far as the eye could see. And from somewhere down there was the glowing blue light, casting a shimmering brightness about us.

My breath caught. It was beautiful, beyond anything I could explain. It glowed, and tiny motes escaped from it, like jewels floating in the air, carrying the light near and far. A calm filled me, and I thought, If this is the hall of demons, it is not one of torment or fear, but of peace.

I could live with that.

A feeling came over me, a floating effortlessness, and I thought I wanted to lie down and go to sleep, a dreamless sleep. Or, at last, one full of sweetness, where all the hopes and joys hidden in my heart came true.

Airen kept walking, one hand trailing along the rail. I saw he wore a red ring on one finger, circlets of gold on some of the others. My stomach did a flip-flop, and then he pointed away from the expanse to a wall of glass.

On the other side was another bedroom, similar to Airen’s with plush carpets on the floor, rich tapestries on the wall. And on the bed, wide enough for three or four, a man lay on his side, golden hair spilling down his back. He was a big man, almost a giant, his bare chest rising and falling, his bulky muscles plain even in sleep.

“That is Thadis. Keeper of Arms, my bodyguard, when he is awake. The best warrior in the realm. He has a fierce temper, and when he’s not at war, he likes to indulge, which is often his downfall. I would like him to wake, to amuse me with his boisterous spirit once again.”

I said nothing but followed him. Thadis did not look like a demon.

At the next room, he paused again. A woman lay on the bed, beautiful, with long black hair, a voluptuous body, and pale skin. Her blood-red lips were parted, one hand flung above her head. “This is Vadella,” Airen began. “People called her a witch because she can speak to animals, and they do her bidding. She lived in the hills in the forest, and the wolves guarded her, and the city.”

Vadella did not look like a demon either.

At the next room slept a girl, about the same age I’d been when my family was taken from me. “This is Kiya. She’s a shapeshifter. She can morph and shift to look like anything living. The last person she mirrored was a child, so now she appears like a child in slumber. She changes so often, no one remembers her true face. I don’t believe she does either.”

Another room. A sleeping man with red hair and pointed ears and a thick beard. “This is Becamel. He’s a mason. He shapes stone simply by laying his hands on rock and speaking. He sculpted many of the statues in my kingdom.”

And so it went, room by room. Airen patiently walked me through his kingdom, level by level. Showing me the sleeping demigods, introducing them, and telling me a story of their magic, their great feats. A woman who could weave the future into tapestries. A dream walker who would steal into your dreams and cause chaos. A storm lord who could cause rain, wind, or lightning, depending on his mood.

My steps grew slower as the night wore on, and an apology rose in my throat. I’d been wrong. I’d misjudged him this entire time. Now that I’d seen with my own eyes, it only confirmed it. Demigods had magic, and perhaps they were misunderstood, but should they be forced to sleep for eternity?

They were alive, the same way the people in my city were alive. Should I be the one to deny them life when it was mine to give?

I tried to think from Airen’s perspective. How frustrated he must be with me. How it must gall him when he held the means to compel me, to bend me with his music, yet he hadn’t. He’d taken the time to explain, to show me, because I could not trust his word alone.

I still had questions. I was still uneasy about the demons, but with him, I had no more quarrel.

There were more levels, more rooms to go, but we’d already walked for so long, I felt as though I might drop. My own bed felt far away, so I laid my hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“King Airen, I’m sorry.” The words hurt to say, but they were true. “I was wrong. I let my fears rule me. Please forgive me.”

“I already have,” he said, gazing off into the distance.

When he faced me, there was something behind those green eyes I could not explain. It flickered, then died, and something within me ached to see it again.

“I should sleep,” I added. “But I promise to come again, and we will dance.”

His gaze moved over my face, settling on my mouth. The pull dragged at me, and for a breath, I was certain he would finally close the space between us.

Instead, the world went soft at the edges. I felt myself going—swaying, swooning—and then my legs went out from under me.

He caught me and lifted me in his arms. “Sleep,” he murmured. “Sleep.”