"This is not an outfit suited for a princess!" says Asher. I swear he's about to wring his hands in distress, and I almost giggle.
There were dresses galore in the wardrobe, but in one of the drawers tucked into the back, I found something better. Black leather pants, boots, and a red corset with a black cloak. I feel pretty badass, to be honest. And though it's not the most comfortable outfit I've ever worn, I'm happy in it. My hair is tied into braids, and I put on red lipstick to match my corset. I just need a sword and I'll be set. Swords seem big here. Fen carries one at his hip. Yes, I definitely need my own sword. And I'll need to learn how to use it.
"I think she looks like the perfect princess," Fen says.
I try not to smile at his compliment. I'm still angry at him for lying to me, but there's so much going on I don't understand. I'm not sure how to feel about anyone right now.
Asher just shakes his head at us and begins walking down the hall. I follow and Fen walks just behind me, presumably acting as guard. I should feel more nervous with him and that wolf trailing after me, but I don't. It's actually reassuring knowing he's there. I don't get to see much of the castle, mostly hallways, covered in murals depicting battles and harvests. Above an extravagant door hangs a giant painting of an older man, his hair black and streaked with grey, his face pale and smooth. He wears a black vest and cape, his buttons gold.
"Who's that?" I ask.
Fen doesn't look at the painting, scowling for some reason.
Asher sighs. "Our father, King Lucien. He could be... difficult, at times, but he was always fair."
Fen chuckles, though there is no humor to it. "Fair to you, perhaps."
"Now, now brother. This is no time for bickering."
"Time for truth perhaps."
Asher shakes his head, turning to me. "Excuse my brother. Our father's loss has affected us all in different ways." He faces Fen. "Let us take the princess to her mother. We can discuss this later."
Fen nods, though I wish he hadn't. I want to know more about what happened to the king.
Asher takes a right down a hall and pulls a thick iron key from his pocket. He opens a dusty black door, revealing a staircase winding down. The path is lit by torches that flicker a blue light, but still I trip, knocking into Asher, who catches me and steadies me before continuing. I hear Fen's wolf growl when Asher touches me, and Asher scowls at the beast.
We descend deeper until we reach another door. Asher opens it, and we walk into a dark hall, full of stone and metal bars.
"I shall wait here and guard the entrance," Fen says, stopping by the door.
Asher frowns. "Of course."
The wolf sits by Fen's feet, ears alert, teeth bared at the dungeon.
It's hot, the stone walls are stained red, and I don't even want to think of what caused those marks. I cough. "Is that sulfur?"
"Yes," he says.
"How disappointingly predictable. A demon dungeon that smells of sulfur."
"It has its uses," he says, but I can tell he's bothered by being called disappointing and predictable. He is the Prince of Pride after all.
There is a sound of clanking chains as we approach a corner, and the largest man I've ever seen appears before us. He's not really a man though. He's at least nine feet tall, bulging with muscle everywhere. His head is bald and his body covered in tribal tattoos. Large black horns protrude from his skull. His pupils are too narrow like a reptile's. His teeth are sharpened to deadly points and when he speaks, his voice sounds like gravel. "My Prince, how can I serve you?"
He doesn't look at me at all, but I can tell he's aware of my presence. I know he sees everything I might do before I even do it. This man-beast terrifies me.
"Please allow Miss Spero to see her mother's soul, and then we will be going."
The demon pauses, uncertainty on his face. "If you feel that is wise, Your Highness?"
"Just do it. I'm in a bit of a hurry and must be on with it."
"Of course."
He leads us through more halls stained with the remnants of their last occupants and opens a barred door, the metal hinges creaking loudly in the eerie silence. The room is large, like an underground warehouse, and full of giant cages hanging from the ceiling yet low to the ground. Each has the glowing ethereal form of a human laying on it. There must be hundreds of them, at least. Maybe more.
"She is here," he says, walking to a cage in the middle.
I shuffle forward, my body shaking. I see my mother's soul, leaning against the cold bars. It is transparent, ghostly, but it is her. She looks the same as her body, and I reach to touch her, but my hand finds no purchase.
"She is not here in form," Asher says. "Only in spirit."