Lord of the Night

Chapter 18: The Rogabeast

The doors clanked shut and fused together with a hiss.

Even though I had wanted the High Prince gone, the sudden aloneness hit me hard. Rage gave way to despair, crushing my chest like a boulder and sucking the air from my lungs. I gazed out the window at the dark horizon, but the ground was only a black line underscoring the sky.

First Guardian, where are you?

For the first time in my life, I could feel nothing of her power, not even a faint tingle deep below. Was I too far aboveground for her reach? Or did the Demons' powers obliterate hers here?

An aching throb brought my attention to my wounded arm. I had barely noticed the wound in the last few hours, but now the pain was impossible to ignore—and the itch. The Demon's venom was still poisoning me. I wondered if the High Prince would tell the Duchess not to bother healing me after I had foolishly told him I wanted nothing from him. But how could I accept anything from the monster who murdered my mother and Hefgar?

I drew a breath and fought back the rising despair. My mother, Hefgar, and my father would all want me to live.

And they would want me to fight back.

I turned my focus to the cuff locking me to the bed frame. Legends told of Guardians breaking free from handcuffs. I traced the circle of metal, pinched the keyhole below it, and then jerked against the confines, but I only succeeded in carving a throbbing red gash into my wrist.

I glided the cuff along the post as far as it would go each direction, testing my range of motion, and determined I could stand on each side of the bed but go no further. On the side closer to the dresser, I knelt on the wet carpet. Gripping the bedframe with my cuffed hand and leg of the bed with my other, I tugged hard.

The bed slid toward me.

The carpet in its path deteriorated, ripping away under the weight of the bed. I dropped a hand to the carpet and realized it was actually a thick, spongy moss. If I dragged this bed over to the dresser to check what it contained, the moss would reveal my actions.

Footsteps and voices sounded from the hallway. I shoved the bed back into place.

"Duchess, he could be dangerous!" said a voice I didn't recognize.

"Move aside, or I'll show you 'dangerous,'" the Duchess snarled.

I sat back down on the bed just as the door fissured open. The Duchess flounced into the room. The lightning highlighted the white streaking her raven hair and illuminated sleek swaths of her leather jacket and pants. I caught a glint of shiny scales near her feet and heard the swish of the Rogabeast's belly through wet moss.

"Light, please," she said.

At first I thought she was asking me to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, but light erupted through the room without me moving an inch. When my eyes adjusted, the Rogabeast's scales glowed, as though covered in a thousand tiny lanterns. Its head swung my way, and it flashed a toothy, menacing grin.

The Duchess clutched her forehead and moaned. "Sweet dominion, dim the light. Much dimmer."

The light faded a little, as did the Rogabeast's grin.

The Duchess turned toward me and frowned. "You certainly don't look dangerous right now." She strode a couple of steps toward me. Closer up, I saw the red in her eyes and smelled the zaikut and smoke clinging to her clothing and hair. She scanned me, gaze latching on my wrist. "Seems you can't break that handcuff, though not for lack of trying." Her eyes dropped to the floor below the bed. "You can move the bed, but I don't see how that will help you much. You don't want to know what's in the dresser in a consort bedroom."