The Damned

Alaric swore that one day, he’d burn the Court of Revels down. He’s set fire to their pretty gilded moonstone palace. He’d take every small bit of precious hope from them, just as they had done with him.

Breathing deeply, he silenced that small part of his heart that longed for Zia’s warmth and touch and laughter.

She was gone.

And the only thing he could do now was avenge her.

His quest for revenge hadn’t been an easy one. Entry to a party at the Court of Revels was reserved for members of the royal families and high-ranking nobles.

The rest of Umayan? They had to suffer without wine and dance and entertainment. Slogging away for the bare chance of surviving life.

Alaric had this one chance to make everything right. To satisfying the hungering desire for vengeance that grew inside him every day.

He had swindled and cheated to get here. It was time to put his effort to use.

Alaric plucked a goblet of rose wine. Drinking would make him seem more inconspicuous.

At least until he assassinated whoever had been responsible for Zia’s death.

“Hello, sir!” A bubbly voice sounded from across the room, breaking his focus on devious scheming.

Alaric looked and sucked in a breath when he saw a tall, slim brunette with strings of crimson pearls crisscrossing at the neckline of her cerulean silk and foam gown. He wasn’t in the mood for fancy, obscenely rich noble girls vying for his attention. Especially when he had come here with a veritable mission.

Perhaps she was addressing the fop in raven-black behind him, the one who was adjusting his expensive tie every few minutes. That would be a blessing.

Alaric took a long swig of the wine and turned away.

A light tap brushed his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, but I do believe you’re ignoring me.” Good lord, how had she managed to flit to him so quickly?

Alaric concealed his sigh and swiveled around on his heel. “My lady, forgive me. I don’t recall ever meeting you. So you can understand my hesitation when you addressed me moments ago.”

“Ah, yes.” The woman extended her hand, speaking again only when he shook it firmly. “I’m Zia.”

Alaric staggered back, his hand dropping down, down, down, to the deepest pits of hell. Were there evil forces at work? Mystical powers that sought to turn him mad and raving like his beloved?

“I’m Alaric. I’m sorry,” Alaric gasped, “it’s just that you bear the same name my lover once did.”

“Did?” Her eyebrows quirked up. “I do hope you didn’t part on bad relations.”

“No,” he said. “She was invited to a revel. Here. And something, whether it was the magic or partying, drove her mad.”

“Mad? What are you implying?”

“The local police found her with blood covering her entire body. She had clawed herself to death.”

Zia swallowed. “I’m terribly sorry. It must be painful to be back here again.”

“Yes, I suppose so. And seeing someone with my beloved’s name here was a shock. Take my advice. Leave. Before something tragic happens.”

She laughed apologetically. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Zia is the sixth most popular name in Umayan. Parents flock to name their daughters after the goddess of blessings.”

“You really should leave,” Alaric paused, “Zia.” He tested the unused name on his lips, and somehow, it didn’t sound as foreign as he’d expected.

“I can’t. I’m looking for something very important,” Zia said matter-of-factly.

He resisted the urge to throttle her. “A husband or wife can be found in other courts.”

She let out a pealing giggle. “Oh no, I don’t think I’ll be interested in marriage for the next few years. You see, I’m looking for my heart.”

Alaric gaped.

“Don’t be so surprised! I’m sure you’ve lost your favorite trousers or pocket watch once or twice. I’ve just lost something that’s a little more…vital.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alaric said. “Don’t trifle with me.”

“I’m not!” Zia retorted indignantly. “Put your hand here and feel.”

He placed his hand on her chest—cautious to not venture further down—and indeed, instead of a healthy heartbeat, a damning silence awaited him.

Alaric snatched his hand back.

“How are you still walking? Still breathing. Living.” He tried to keep the shocked amazement out of his voice, miserably failing.

To that, she gave him a mysterious sort of smile, the type that slithered on his bones, leaving a phantom kiss. “Perhaps I dream of having a heart once more. Perhaps that dream is the only thing that keeps me going.”

“Don’t give me flowery metaphors. It’s not possible to live without a heart.”

“Really? Then how am I doing the impossible?”

“I have no clue.” Alaric stammered.

“Well then, you’ll help me find my heart, won’t you?”

“I guess I shall,” he said, utterly dumbfounded.

“First step. We search the castle. Be discreet and come with me.” Zia offered him her arm, which Alaric took warily.

They walked nearly in sync, their steps pitter-pattering across the room and into a narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?”

“The queen’s private chambers. They say she eats hearts for pleasure. Tries to find sustenance or some other wretched thing in them.”

Alaric inhaled sharply. “Good lord. She won’t be in there, will she?”

“She’s in the throne room. No need to worry. Her infamous reputation traveled so far that I heard of it in my lands. If anyone has my heart, it’s her.”

They arrived at the end of the corridor. Zia pulled Alaric in the room, shutting the door and latching it.

“Zia? Why latch the door? What are you not telling me?”

Her eyes turned a wicked, villainous, cold grey.

“Give me your heart. Carve it out for me.” Zia rummaged in the folds of her dress, finding a knife. “Or I will. You choose.” She tossed the sharp weapon to Alaric.

“What?”

She clucked exasperatedly. “Dear Alaric, would you like me to repeat myself?”

“This is how my Zia died, isn’t it?” Alaric roared. “She clawed herself to death to give you her heart. You’re the queen. And a monster.”

The queen shrugged. “That’s just another word for a prisoner. And I am one to this curse. Regardless, you’re taking too long. I’ll finish up the job.” She tugged another knife, this one somehow hidden beneath hazel locks at the nape of her neck, and threw it into Alaric’s chest.

He fell to the floor, looking up to see the queen smile coldly.

She lifted her palms, letting mauve streaks paint her body in glittering shades of purple. The color whirled around her in terrifying torrents.

Shimmering tresses shortened into clipped, brown waves of hair. Skin tightened and loosened, wriggling rapidly to cover a more-prominent nose and higher cheekbones. Zia’s dress flew and spun and shook, till it was no longer a gown, but a light azure doublet and a pair of trousers. The pearls at her neck shrunk and flew to her fingers, forming rings encased in silver. The purple disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Alaric closed his eyes. He was going to die. In a matter of seconds or minutes, depending on whether the gods were feeling merciful today.

“Open your eyes. I don’t think you would like to live the rest of eternity while blind.”

Confused, Alaric blinked, just in time to see a hand plunge into his chest.

And suddenly, he was floating. Above his body, which now bore a gruesome, gaping hole.

Alaric tried to move. His feet were rooted in place. The world, or rather, the bright, garish red dome that allowed his head only a few inches of space was thin and solid. He could break through it. Perhaps.  

A shadow tapped at the surface of the dome. “You can scream. You can rage and try to break your new prison. But you’re trapped, just as I am. For all of eternity, at least until my heart returns.”

Alaric loosed a silent scream. The air reverberations slammed back into him with damning force.

He watched his body disappear, dissolving into bronze and obsidian sparks.

A sigh shook his world. “I thought you might be the one. The one heart to free me. I was wrong. Pity.”

Alaric pounded his fists against the dome.

The same man from earlier, the fidgety one donned in the tie and raven-black, slunk into Alaric’s view. “What’s your name, lad? The royals’d flay you alive if they saw you in this private chamber. You lost something?”

The monster, witch—whatever it was—turned to face the noble. “Oh yes. I’m Alaric. And I fear I’ve lost my heart.”