Twin red eyes glowed back at him. “As you wisssh.” Cook vanished in a puff of sulfur.
Bone weary but knowing there was still much left to do before the games could begin in the morning, Rumpel yanked a large hunk of dehydrated pig from a hook. Tucking it beneath his arm, he walked to the juncture of the wall and one of the shelves and depressed a small black knob tucked within a hidden crag. Soundlessly and seamlessly the rock face moved away, revealing a long and winding set of stairs that led deep into the heart of the castle.
Marching down, wall sliding shut behind him, Rumpel walked the almost half mile to the chamber below. The chamber itself was heavily warded by dark magick, not magic. No, that was the light stuff, the happy, fluffy-bunnies and colorful-rainbows stuff the fairies produced. His stuff was potent, deadly, and frightening.
The moment he stepped into the room, the malevolent shiver of chaos and madness tingled upon his flesh. Spelled lanterns glowed to amber life as he neared the iron cage. This room guarded his most valued and treasured soul.
The very reason why he held the games.
A large crow, the size of a small child, blinked obsidian, beady eyes at him. The wickedly curved beak clacked open as the creature sensed food had finally come.
The bars inside the cage weren’t thick, but then they needn’t be as they had been forged in the fires of Delirium. This particular iron was meant to hold back a demone such as he. The creature could never escape.
Kneeling, he studied the haunch of pig in his hand. “You hungry, Euralis?”
The crow cocked its head but said nothing back.
“Yes, I’d imagine you are.” Tossing the meat at it, he watched for a bit as the smoky undulations of the bird’s power seeped through its form, transforming him from bird to child.
The boy appeared to be no more than five, but in truth he was much older than that. His hair was greasy, his dusky skin raw and bleeding from countless sores.
“You’ve been picking at yourself again,” Rumpel chided.
Euralis opened his mouth wide, exposing dripping silver fangs before he tore into the meat with the ravenous, bottomless hunger he always felt. He sawed at the flesh like an animal would, ripping into it and slurping it down.
The boy did not listen to him, just buried his face in the meat.
“I’ve brought another. I think this one may be the one.”
Finally the child looked up, and there was an empty, soulessness in his gaze. The same beady gaze of the bird stared back at him. Flecks of meat clung to his lips as his breathing hitched.
“Yes.” Rumpel stood. “Your madness might soon end.”
The boy screamed, rushing to the cage and grabbing hold of the bars with dirt-grimed nails, shaking them with fury as his cherubic face transformed into a frightful mask.
Clenching his jaw, Rumpel left, drowning the boy back in darkness once again.
Chapter Five
Shayera couldn’t make heads or tails of the man sitting at the opposite end of the long room. The gleaming mahogany dining table was studded with the finest crystal and china, and thickly woven rugs—which felt like walking on fluffy clouds—lay on the opulence of a marble floor full of gold veins. Chandeliers, more massive and heavy than any she’d ever seen, hung from solid beams.
This was a palace fit for a king and occupied by one man.
It actually made her kind of sad.
“Do you not like the stew?” he asked after a moment, watching as she’d allowed the spoon to linger by her mouth for an overly long time.
“No, it’s not that. Actually, it’s wonderful.” It was a thick red stew full of fennel and thyme and even had a hint of rosemary and lavender in it. There were thick meaty chunks of beef and potatoes and the bread was as yeasty and crusty as any master baker in her hamlet could produce.
But it was bothering her that in the entire time she’d been here, she’d not seen a hint or a peep of another soul around.
“Where’s the cook?” she finally asked, glancing up at the walls, which were decorated with countless paintings of glamorous people. But even they disturbed her, for all the paintings were of people so cruelly beautiful that it made one nervous to gaze upon them for too long.
The women wore haughty smirks and dressed in the finest gowns of silk and lace she’d ever seen crafted; they had high cheekbones and wildly red lips, and blazing beautiful eyes of every color of the rainbow. In short, they were what one might term ravishing. The men were equally as attractive, standing tall and proud, all of them with long hair hanging scandalously free, wearing trousers and long coats and looking smugly important, with sharp, strong jawlines and regal noses… In a lot of way they reminded her of Rumpel.
But where they were dressed in their pompous finest, he was in scuffed jeans, boots, and a formfitting T-shirt imprinted with a logo she’d never seen before.