The Girl Who Belonged to the Sea by Katherine Quinn

Chapter Forty-Two

Margrete

Margrete didn’t sleep,not even as Bash rested peacefully beside her. She merely stared up at the ornate silver ceiling, exploring the fine details and depictions of nymeras and legends.

Her body felt deliciously sore from what they’d done—from what they shared—and while their time together was to come to an end, Margrete would carry this night with her, a final gift before it all came crashing down.

Bash made his choice, too. She knew this the instant he grasped her face and commanded her lips. The King of Azantian knew the dangers they would face should she not relinquish the Heart’s essence, should the beasts straining against their prisons finally burst free.

It would cost lives. Innocent lives. And Margrete simply wouldn’t allow this.

Her mind had been made, but staring at the king, his thick lashes dusting his cheeks and a hint of a smile on his lips, she felt her resolve waver.

Was she not courageous enough to sacrifice herself for so many? Margrete had always believed herself to be a good and decent person with an honest heart—but now, she wasn’t sure at all. She could only see a girl eager to taste her own happily ever after, like some lost princess in a fairy tale from one of her childhood books.

Though she’d found a semblance of a happy ending tonight, it would be as close to it she would allow. How could she hold her head high when her joy cost others their lives?

She ran her hand against Bash’s stubbled cheek, careful not to wake him as she committed his handsome face to memory. Her fingers paused on the curve of his jaw when she heard it.

Margrete.

She flinched, her fingers jerking from Bash’s heated skin.

Come find me, little one, it demanded. The usually deep timbre turned into a near growl.

Darius.

He sounded angry tonight, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d directed his rage at her. She just didn’t know why.

Couldn’t she enjoy her last night a little bit longer? She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the voice and its commands to leave her alone, to allow her to spend just a little more time in Bash’s arms. But he was persistent, and the next time he spoke, there was no mistaking that it wasn’t a request.

Go to where I showed you the truth. To where it all began. Now.

Margrete shuddered at the thought of returning to the cursed throne room. She could still see the blood painting the floor. Because she faltered, the voice—Darius’s voice—delivered one final warning. One she couldn’t ignore.

I will not hesitate to end him.

Margrete’s heart thrummed as dread pooled in her stomach. She didn’t know Darius, not that she claimed to know his twin. Still, whenever Malum spoke to her, she felt only peace.

Now, she felt fear and the poisonous weight of his promise.

Margrete slipped from bed and pulled on her discarded trousers and shirt. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the threat on Bash’s life causing her fingers to tremble.

Good girl,the voice praised, and Margrete grimaced.

She yanked on her boots and took one last look at her slumbering king, then tiptoed to the door. Only one guard had been posted outside, and he was fast asleep. A mug—which no doubt contained wine or ale—sat at a precarious tilt in his hand.

Sneaking past the slumbering soldier, she dashed along the corridor. Her feet were light and nimble as she flew down the staircase.

Soon, the main floor approached. She stepped out, and her boot landed resoundingly on the stone. Tomorrow she would sacrifice herself for an island she’d grown to care about, but tonight, the voice that haunted her demanded an audience.

Padding down the corridor, Margrete kept close to the walls, on alert should one of the midnight patrolmen come near. There was only one close call on her way through the palace. When she heard the sound of heavy boots, Margrete dashed into a shadowy alcove and held her breath as two men marched past. They didn’t spare a look back.

The throne room was coming up on her left. Margrete was about to take that last corner when her feet stilled.

Someone was approaching, frantic footfalls pounding the stones. She sucked in a breath, searching for a place to hide, but there weren’t any alcoves or doors she could slip inside. She twisted around, ready to race back down the hall, when someone called her name.

“Margrete?”

She froze. Turning, she found the last person she’d expected.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at Casbian.

The count stood before her, his raven hair sticking to his sweat-lined brow, a crazed look widening his blue eyes.

“We don’t have much time, Margrete.” Casbian closed the gap between them and grasped her hands in his. “I was just coming for you. I have a plan to get us out of here tonight, but you have to follow my lead and hurry.”

She resisted the urge to yank her hands out of his grasp. “What do you mean you have a plan? How did you escape your guards?” Bash had him heavily secured. If he’d managed to evade them, he must have had help. Something didn’t feel right.

“I was able to persuade one of the guards to look the other way. I promised he’d be well compensated shortly.”

“I still don’t understand,” she murmured, warning bells ringing in her head. He knew nothing about the Heart or Malum or the transference.

“Your father is coming.” Casbian grinned. “He’ll be here soon, and then you won’t be a prisoner anymore. He’s told me all about the Heart, how it’s trapped inside of you, but he has a plan to free you of that burden. You’ll be able to come back to Cartus with me once this mess is all over.” Casbian’s eyes flashed with a nearly manic delight. He appeared unhinged.

“My father…He’s coming?” She could barely get the words out. They weighed on her tongue as her throat constricted.

“You have to come with me.” Casbian yanked on her hand. “Now.”

Margrete fell forward, unable to free herself of his ironclad grip.

“You...you lied,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I believed you when you said you weren’t working with my father.” He’d appeared so sincere, so raw, when he promised he came for her with honor in his heart.

All lies.

“I had to lie to you in case someone was listening,” he snapped, his patience growing thin. “Come on, we have to run.” Casbian pulled on her again, but she dug in her heels, putting all of her weight against him.

“I’m not coming with you! Don’t you understand what’s at stake? Whatever my father has told you is a lie. If Bash doesn’t get the Heart back and call forth its missing essence trapped inside of me, then the gates will unleash the sea’s children, and they will be set upon the world. Thousands will die!” She was screaming now, uncaring if they were overheard. In fact, she hoped they were. There was no way she’d be able to fight him off herself.

Margrete hissed as Casbian tightened his hand around her wrist, and pain lanced up her arm. “I told you I’m not coming!” She jerked backward again, but he didn’t release her. “Please, Casbian, you have no idea what my father is capable of, and if you take me to him, you’re just as evil as he is.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she pleaded with the man she almost married. A man she’d been foolish enough to trust. How wrong she’d been.

Casbian’s upper lip curled, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. His tone was lined with gravel. “This. Is. Happening.” He bit out every word. “Now, shut your mouth and come with me before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

Margrete acted without thought, only instinct.

Fashioning her hand into a fist, just as Adrian taught her, she struck him, using all of the force she possessed to punch him square in that perfect jaw of his.

Casbian bellowed, clasping his hands over his wounded face as shock twisted his features.

Margrete didn’t hesitate.

She took off in a sprint, racing down the corridor for the spiral staircase that would lead her back to Bash. She’d warn him, and, hopefully, it would give him enough time to prepare his men for when her father arrived at their shores.

Her legs pumped, burning from the exertion, and sweat pooled down her back, but she didn’t stop. Not when she knew what would happen if she failed to evade Casbian. He’d take her back to the captain, where he would possess both the physical Heart and the magic she carried inside of her. Then, he might be able to reunite the pieces and make Malum’s heart whole again.

Boots sounded behind her, her name a snarled word on Casbian’s lips. He was gaining ground—

One moment she was running and the next, a heavy body pummeled into her, sending her flying through the air. Her hands shot out instinctively to protect her face from colliding with the stones.

Casbian pushed into her back, using his full weight to hold her still. She opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound escaped, a foul-smelling handkerchief was pressed to her lips.

“You shouldn’t have run,” Casbian panted. The weight of his body stole the air from her lungs.

Margrete tried to hold her breath, to not take in whatever poison drenched the handkerchief, but she failed. Her head grew dizzy as she gasped for air.

She was losing consciousness. Drifting away.

The last thing she remembered was being rolled onto her back and the count’s face looming in her vision, a cruel smile on his lips.

Then the world cut to black.