Page 115 of Bloodgrove

The King laughed. “What of the moon child? What of the beast?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“Liar!” the King thundered, and suddenly something seized Will.

No—his body moved without his command. With stiff steps, he left his hiding place and entered the vast cavern. His fingers released the revolver, and it fell to the floor. Only his eyes remained under his control, searching frantically for an escape.

Albatross! But his lips remained sealed, unable to offer another word.

Then he saw Elodie standing in the center of the chamber. Her white wedding dress was saturated red up to the knees, while spatters of blood covered her arms and chest. No veil concealed her face. She had removed her headpiece and torn away the lace-covered sleeves.

A silent curse twisted her features when she saw Will, but there was no surprise in her expression. At the sight of her, the chains around his heart loosened, and for the first time, he could breathe, knowing she was unharmed.

Will’s body marched onward and dropped to the floor beside the kneeling Wilkinson. The man’s dark skin had gone ashen, and his pointed beard trembled with his quivering lip. But his gaze remained firm, as though he refused to submit to his fate.

Were Will not suffocating from claustrophobia within his own body, he might have laughed at the sight of Elodie binding her husband with the bloodstained remains of her veil.

Wilkinson tried to speak, but Will had already turned away. Whether it was meant to be a warning or merely another insult, he wanted to hear nothing more from the man. Even together in hell, Will would not forget what Wilkinson had done to Elodie.

Only now did he take in the chamber around them. Enormous ribs supported the ceiling as though they stood inside a vast chest. Diffuse light seeped through openings in the muscle and illuminated the delicate web of veins.

But what truly held his gaze was the figure embedded in the wall.

At first, Will thought it was only another living corpse, but the King was far larger. Four arms spread from him like wings, and ribs protruded from the fleshy wall. Unlike the others, he still possessed all his bones. Muscles covered his body and merged seamlessly with the flesh of the cavern.

“Why is our beast hiding?”

The king’s flayed head stretched forward, pulling taut the tendons and veins connecting him to the wall.

Eric entered through another passage not far from where Will had emerged. He appeared unharmed as well, though his suit was filthy, as though he had fallen into the blood several times. He had removed his senatorial robe and suit jacket, and his shirt clung to his chest. His brows were drawn darkly over his grave expression, but he bowed calmly before the King and clasped his hands behind his back.

Compared with the relief Will had felt at the sight of Elodie, Eric’s appearance came as a shock.

“Your Majesty,” Eric said calmly.

“What the hell?” Wilkinson cursed. “I knew there was something wrong with these men! Your Majesty, please listen to me!”

The King lowered an irritated gaze toward him.

“You expect me to believe, my daughter, that you chose this idiot over these two men? That your heart beats for him alone?”

“Yes.” Elodie did not hesitate for even a second.

Wilkinson melted.

From one moment to the next, his bones vanished, and his body sank into the floor. His widened eyes stared up at them as his scream died when his vocal cords disappeared beneath the sea of muscle. Slowly, his eyeballs drifted away to join the swarm of others.

“If you loved him so deeply, why did you not lie and claim to love one of the others, so that his life might be spared?”

It was strange to watch the King play games with Elodie, and Will could almost feel her fury radiating from her in waves.

“Eric. Come closer.”

Eric stepped forward, and to Will’s confusion, his movement was fluid, untouched by the king’s control.

“Your Majesty.”

“My servant, the Red Hand, always spoke highly of you. But you are not from Bloodgrove—and you have already pledged your service to another.”