Silvern (The Gilded Series) (29 page)

“It seems you must learn the hard way,” Kud says.

He hovers not far away, as if eager to watch Michelle take her last breath. Her body lifts from the ground and swirls in a circle. I latch on to her, wrenching her body to me. The pull is too strong. Her arm slips from my fingers. Screams fill the hall. They’re mine, as the pain hurtles through me in wave after wave. Higher and higher she lifts, and then she’s gone, vanishing into thin air.

I drop to the ground, sobs racking my body. She didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve to meet evil and confront it alone. My hand scrapes across something hard on the floor. It’s Michelle’s butterfly clip, sparkling in the orb’s light. I clasp it in my palm and press it to my chest.

“How could you?” I grit my teeth. “She was innocent.”

“Hand over the orb.”

“Never.”

“It appears you will also be the one to watch him die,” Kud says, his voice booming loud as if talking to someone else.

With dread, I scan the room, trying to figure out who he’s talking to. That’s when a burst of fire rises from the floor, creating a wall barring me from the other side of the room. The shadows hovering in the corners are now illuminated in shades of red, flickering over a long row of bodies chained to the wall. All are skeletons except one that appears to still be rotting.

And Marc.

I didn’t think the pain tearing at my insides could get any worse. Marc’s tangled hair hangs over his eyes, and a jagged cut runs along his jawline, blood trailing down his neck. Without his shirt on, I can see the tattoo clearly, now almost radiating from his skin. The inky vine is an inch from his heart. Though his mouth is bound, I can read the pain mixed with anger flashing through his green eyes.

I shake my head. “No, no, no.” My words come out anguished, pain-ridden, and desperate. But I can’t just watch Kud gloat. I think back to the time I golfed with Dad and how he said all that mattered was what was inside of us. But here in this place, facing Kud, those words feel petty, childish, useless. How could anything inside me overcome this?

“What will be your choice?” Kud asks. “I will not stop with the deaths until you give me what is mine.”

“Never.”

I grasp the orb. Its power surges through me, spreading from my palms through my arms, and awakening every nerve in my body. My skin twists and pulls. I don’t even wait for the full transformation. I sprint toward Kud, and as I do, my body bursts into the form of a white tiger. My paws eat up the ground in seconds and I’m leaping, claws outstretched, toward this demon. My roar fills the room.

Kud dives away with his mouth open in surprise. I fall on him, snapping at his neck, ripping at his cloak. Darkness slips around my body, and despite the brightness of my fur, I’m drowning in an endless nothing. His tentacles wrap around me, choking my neck, twisting around my paws. I snarl and flip in resistance, but here in this endless darkness, I can’t find him. Kud’s cords pull and tear at me everywhere.

That’s when I see it: the Red Phoenix. It flies at me, claws outstretched. I roar, but with the bonds strapping me down, I can’t leap in attack. The phoenix dives at me, eyes dripping blood, and its claws rip across my mane and down my back. That pain in my back from my fall off the
imoogi
pricks at the base of my spine, and inch by inch it returns, burning like fire and creeping its way up my back, immobilizing me. I flick my head and clamp down on a tentacle, ripping it in half, refusing to allow the agony to stop me.

But I can’t hold on any longer. The phoenix had known exactly where to attack me. That hadn’t been an accident.

Soon I’m unable to move. I’m falling again until my head smashes onto the ground. When I open my eyes, I’m lying in a pool of blood. I groan as I survey the giant gash down both sides of my face, down my neck and back. Yet even with the blood streaming down my body, the rest of my skin sparkles like snow on a bright day.

The bloodhounds grovel at my feet, their muzzles pressed to the ground, whimpering from the blinding light of the orb dangling from my chest. A sharp guttural growl erupts from Kud, and he almost smiles.

“Look at you lying there, hopeless. You and your White Tiger orb are nothing compared to me,” he says. “Even with an icon of such power, you are powerless. Hand it over. You don’t deserve it.”

A shot of light breaks from the orb across the expanse of the chamber to the throne. The orb must be trying to tell me something. A hint of steel glints from the tangle of the black iron throne.
What could that be?

Kud spins around to follow the light’s trail. Before he can react, I whip out my bow, and despite my bloody hands, I unleash another arrow into the spot highlighted by the beam.

“Stop!” Kud yells out.

He flings a finger at me. The tentacles swarm my body, like a nest of snakes. Burning, strangling as they twine their way up my body. Even still, Kud’s not fast enough, because my arrow has pierced the iron. An explosion of color erupts from the throne. Smoke billows into the air, and with a resounding clatter, two swords tumble to the floor. The swords I gave to Marc.

The hounds resume their barking, teeth bared. The tentacles snarl around my waist, my stomach. I can’t feel my legs any longer. I’m sure if the tentacles weren’t so tightly woven around me, my legs would buckle from the numbness.

I twist so that I’m facing Marc now. Fear claws my stomach. Choosing not to free myself from the tentacles is a risk. The darkness is so thick I can practically taste it, bitter and burning. I aim, worrying that I’ll miss, which makes my fingers twitch. But there isn’t time for hesitation. The tentacles squeeze around my chest, clawing for the orb.

I draw back on the string and release my arrow. I send out a prayer as it flies across what feels like forever. The tentacles crush my ribs, and pain shoots through my rib cage as if someone had stabbed me. The sound of my ribs cracking mixes with the snarl of the hounds. My bow drops from my hand as I reach for the orb, doubling over in agony.

This can’t be happening.

Breathing is next to impossible, and my vision blurs. The orb pulses in my palm, warm and reassuring. I strike it to the tentacle wrapped around my chest, and with a sizzle, the orb burns my bonds. Smoke curls around me. With a swoosh, the tentacled cords tumble away from my body and snake back toward Kud.

I crumble to the ground, my vision swimming. I press my palms to the floor, trying to focus on Marc. But when I search for where he was hanging, I see he’s no longer there. Panic ricochets through me.

I look up just as Kud raises his sickle above me, the tip glistening.

“Hand it over,” he says, in a booming voice.

“The dragons said the orb would stay with me even into death.”

Then I spot Marc racing across the hall, a sword in each hand. With a cry, he charges, lifting both swords, aiming for Kud.

Kud spins. His sickle clashes against the swords. Fire sparks around them. Undaunted, Marc pushes back with one sword while driving the other into Kud’s belly. Kud screeches in agony but twists his sickle until its tip points at Marc’s chest.

I want to tell Marc to stop. That he will get killed fighting Kud, an immortal. But I am in awe of Marc’s fighting skills. I had no idea he was so good.

Marc shoves against Kud’s weapon and stabs another blow into Kud’s form. Again, Kud reacts in pain, hissing. There must be something magical about these swords. Somehow I stand, trying to think of what I can do to help.

I clutch the orb once again. The power of it rushes through me, almost overwhelming. My body tingles, and my ribs push back into place. At the same time, it’s too hot. Searing pain courses through my mind, and my head throbs so hard, I let the orb fall back against my chest so I can press my hands to the sides of my head.

This must be what Samshin warned me about. Drawing too much power from the orb would eventually kill me. Without immortality, the orb is more than I can bear. But how do I make that choice to become immortal? She never explained that.

Marc screams. Kud’s hounds have surrounded him, biting at his ankles, and he falters, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s beyond deathly pale, more like ghostly. I focus the orb’s power through me to shove the hounds away.

With a desperate cry, Marc hurls the swords through the air. I watch as they spin toward me like shooting stars. I reach out for them, crying out from the pain in my ribs. Their magic sends them sliding into my hands. I swoop them before me in a side-cut, feeling the power of their blades.

“Let him go,” I say.

“With every treasure comes a cost,” Kud says. “He will die, and then your father will be next.”

I charge at him, screaming at the top of my lungs. I twist both swords in the overhand, back-cut move. He lunges at me, but I parry with a twist of my wrist. His sickle suddenly erupts into a fiery blaze, and I’m startled enough that my movements falter. How do I defeat such a weapon?

Darkness surrounds me, so that I see nothing other than Kud’s sickle streaking toward me and my own two swords blocking the cut. I spin and dive, breathless as I barely miss each blow that Kud hammers into me.

I move just fast enough to cross-block a massive blow that sends me to my knees. The sickle presses down on me. I push my swords against it, groaning against his power. Something slides and curls around my ankles and up my legs once again. My stomach turns as I realize his tentacles are at work.

A hound dives through the darkness and sinks its teeth into my shoulder. I cry out in pain as my left arm goes numb. One sword clatters to the ground, and I know I’m defenseless against Kud. For all my weapons, I am a mere mortal. I’m sure Kud will thrust his sickle through my heart, but he turns and looms over Marc. I watch in horror as the sickle bears down on Marc, perfectly aimed at his chest.

“No!” I scream, holding my hands up, dropping the other sword. “I will negotiate!”

The sickle halts, the tip cutting Marc’s skin. Blood trickles out of the wound. Marc staggers backward, panting. The poison must be too much for him. I’m desperate to run to him and pull him into my arms, but that won’t save him. Kud’s hood shifts until it faces me.

“Negotiate, you said?” He cocks his head.

I glare. “Yes.”

“I am not so keen on negotiation. This had better be interesting. You still have a number of family members that could become instrumental in persuading you to hand over your little trinket.”

“Let him go and I accept your proposition.”

“Remind me of which proposition you refer to.”

“I will join you.”

“Jae!” Marc says, breathlessly. “Don’t do it. He’ll just kill us anyway.”

“How pathetic,” Kud says. “Only after complete desperation do you agree to my proposal. Besides, why should I trust you? You have gained some notoriety for slaying immortals.”

“Accept my proposal, or I will use the power of this orb,” I say. “Too much will kill me. If that happens, you will never get this orb or its power.”

“Haven’t you grown clever?” Kud presses the sickle tip deeper into Marc’s skin.

“So your answer is no,” I say and grab the orb.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your actions do,” I snap.

Slowly, Kud pulls away his sickle. “How do I know you won’t run off and change your mind?”

“As long as you don’t touch my family members or friends, the agreement is on.”

Kud pounds the end of his sickle on the floor. “I like this.”

The ground cracks from the impact. The tentacles from his robe swirl about him until a long rice paper roll, a traditional brush, and an ink bottle flutter before me. Words blaze in fire over the paper. I read it carefully. It’s a contract.

I
_______
(Princess Jae Hwa of Haemosu’s realm) do agree to enter Kud’s service. In turn I
_______
(Kud, master of the realm of darkness) agree not to kill or kidnap any of Jae Hwa’s relatives or friends.

“There is no time limit here,” I point out. “I want out after a year.”

“Pff,” Kud snorts. “A year? Hardly. You are mine forever. Letting this idiot free is no small gift. Are not your friends and family worth your life?”

My hand shakes as I grab the brush pen.
This is the right thing to do
, I tell myself. But still, it feels wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Don’t do this, Jae!” Marc screams. “I’m begging you. If you love me, you won’t do this.”

“I love you, too,” I say. “That’s why I have to do it.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Marc says. “Tell her, Kud. Give her another option. This isn’t an option.”

“We went over my conditions already,” Kud says. “This is ridiculous.”

“I won’t be the one responsible for your death,” I tell Marc. “I have to live with the guilt of knowing Michelle died because I wasn’t strong enough to stop her from getting involved. Her death is on me. I can’t have yours be, too.”

“What about your dad?” Marc says. “And grandfather?”

“You will be dead to them,” Kud says. “But they will be alive to you. They must not know you live.”

I drop the brush. “They will think I’ve died?”

“This is my way.”

“That is hardly a fair deal,” Marc says, eyeing the swords, but then he sags to the ground, releasing a frustrated growl as if that final stand against Kud was too much for him.

I eye the paper, imagining Dad, alone on the couch, waiting up for me. And me never coming home. Grandfather will finally break the news to Dad that I’m dead. I think of his golf balls, motivational posters, and origami creatures. My throat burns as I try to hold back my tears. I don’t know if either of them will recover. My death alone might kill them.

“I won’t sign this unless you promise I can visit my family and Marc,” I say. “Every week.”

“You will have every finery I can offer in my world. But your family will be off-limits to you. I may offer rewards for good behavior from time to time.”

I press my hands over my eyes. What should I do? Who is faced with this kind of decision?

“I grow weary of your ways, Princess! Decide now.”

I search my brain for an answer. I look to the orb for guidance, but it doesn’t shine its light. I’m alone in this. This is the only way to keep Marc and my family safe without handing over the orb to Kud. Kud may think he has power over me, but I will never let him. I promise myself that.

“I’m sorry, Marc.” My tears finally break free. “Sometimes losing is the only way. The only power we have.”

I pick up the brush, dip it into the ink, and sign my name.