The Key (28 page)

She was safe. No one lurked in the shadows of the room. Still, she stayed in the corner. There was no way she could afford to let her mind focus on this dire situation, so she thought of Snow and her family. She needed to be strong for her aunt and uncle. If she were given the opportunity, she’d try to get word to them to run.

The sound of something being dragged echoed off the stone walls. It
was getting louder. Rema pressed her body into the corner, trying to make herself blend in with the wall. What was coming for her?

A man grunted
, walking backwards, pulling something. He stopped and looked at Rema. She froze, hoping he’d continue by her. Instead, he glanced around, pulled out a key, and unlocked the door. He pushed it open and shoved a six-foot rectangular object into her room before he pulled the door shut, locked it, and sprinted away.

Then she smelled it—straw. It was a bed!
She slid the mattress in the corner and sat down, inhaling the fresh smell of hay. It wasn’t as soft as the feather bed she’d been sleeping in, but it was exceedingly better than the stone floor.

Someone cleared his throat
, and Rema peered across her cell to see blankets being shoved between the bars by her feet. Then, he, too, disappeared. The blankets were made from heavy wool—nice and warm. She placed one on top of the straw mattress, lied down, and wrapped the other one around her body.

Rema was certain
that this was not normal, that prisoners in the dungeon weren’t usually treated with such kindness. So why were the prison guards being so nice to her? Were they acting on orders? Perhaps Darmik was trying to help her?

T
he image of Darmik’s body against hers warmed her face. Rema still remembered the feel of his soft lips, the salty taste of his skin, his hands moving over her body. The feelings that Darmik stirred inside of her—an intense desire and need—she never knew existed. And Rema very much wanted to experience it again. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, ever. She loved Bren, but that was like a friend or a brother. The last thing she had ever expected was to fall in love with Darmik. But that look he gave her after Lennek stormed in, was like poison. Why? Because they had been caught?

The s
ound of footsteps grew louder. Ellie appeared before the cell, a guard standing next to her. The guard quickly unlocked and opened the door.

Ellie entered carrying a tray of food.
“Well,” she whispered with a smile, “at least the wedding’s off.”

Rema threw her arms around Ellie’s neck.

“Careful. It wasn’t easy getting this food all the way down here.”

“Hurry!” the guard whispered.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Rema released her. Ellie set
the tray down on Rema’s bed, gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, and left.

Rema clutched onto the cell bars
, watching Ellie disappear down the hallway. Going back to the straw mattress, she lifted the lid off the tray. There was warm soup, bread, and roasted vegetables. Rema’s mouth watered. Lifting the loaf of bread, Rema found her necklace. She quickly put it back around her neck, where it belonged. With the key resting against her chest, Rema felt a sense of hope. If all was lost, people wouldn’t be treating her so kindly. With hope, anything was possible.

When she finished
eating, she crawled under the blanket. The smell of straw reminded Rema of home—of being in the barn with Snow and talking to him like he was a person, not a horse. Since she didn’t have any friends, Snow got an earful. She remembered all those nights as a child when she couldn’t sleep. Rema used to sneak to the stables, into Snow’s stall, and curl up in a ball in the corner. Somehow being on the straw with Snow’s blanket wrapped around her always put Rema to sleep.

Darmik

Storming out of Rema’s room, Darmik leaned against the wall, panting. His head pounded as he tried to process what had just happened. Rema was the rightful heir to the throne.
Rema
was
Amer
. Bloody hell—the answer had been right in front of him the entire time. But was she the mastermind behind the rebellion?

From the hall,
Darmik heard Lennek ordering the guards to take Rema to the dungeon. Darmik needed to move away from the door before they came out and found him standing here. If Rema was the leader of the rebels...no, he couldn’t think about that right now. Fire raged inside of him. Had she been using him this entire time? Darmik was going to hurt someone if he didn’t blow off some steam. He pushed away from the wall and sprinted to the army’s archery range.

No one was about since
it was getting late. Practice weapons lined the back wall. Grabbing a quiver, he filled it with arrows and put it on his back. Then Darmik found a decent bow. Picking one of the center lanes, he lined up, standing fifty feet from the target. After putting on his bracer, he grabbed an arrow and nocked it. Raising the bow, Darmik aimed, and then released the string.

He missed the center of the target by a couple of inches. Darmik couldn’t remember the last time he missed. He pulled another arrow
from the quiver, nocked it, and released. Again, he missed.

Then h
e imagined Rema standing at the end of his lane, laughing at him. He took another arrow and nocked it. This time he hit the target dead center. After all of his arrows were gone, he felt no better than when he first arrived. His mind couldn’t escape Rema and her betrayal.

When he was kissing her, he wanted nothing more than to protect and love her. He had even been willing to
defend her from his brother and Father. But when Darmik saw the tattoo and realized who she was, he felt betrayed and ashamed. How could he have been out maneuvered? He thought he knew and understood Rema, but he had been gravely mistaken.

What he had once mistook for a feisty personality and tenaciousness, he now saw for what it was—arrogance and pride. His hands clenched into fists around the bow and his jaw locked. Darmik needed to control his hurt, anger, and rage. So he had fallen for her act, but at least he knew better now. And it would never happen again.

He collected the arrows from the target. Rema most likely would be executed, ending the royal line for good. That made his job easier. He no longer had to find the mysterious heir, for here she was, right in front of him.

Darmik spun
and smashed his fist into the wall behind the target. Rema deserved what she got.

But was it an insane coincidence that Lennek chose to marry Rema? Or was it an elaborate plot to regain the throne? The chances were too slim
that it was all an accident, especially in conjunction with the rumors circulating. The plan must have been for her to catch Lennek’s attention, get him to marry her, and then she’d have the crown without bloodshed. It was genius, really. But if that was the plan, then what was all of that stuff between Rema and Darmik? A backup plan? Or did she really have feelings for him? Darmik didn’t know, nor did he care.

He wiped his bleeding knuckles on his pants and returned the equipment. Even though Rema was locked in the dungeon, there was still a lot to be done to maintain control over the
kingdom and quash the remaining rebels. Darmik headed toward the command wing. But why was Rema still playing the part? Why didn’t she come out and reveal her true identity? Perhaps she thought being Rema, an ordinary merchant girl, would garner her more sympathy, and she could avoid being executed. She had to be frightened knowing death awaited her. Darmik shook his head.

“Prince Darmik
.” Arnek slid from the shadows. Darmik had always hated this steward and his high-pitched annoying voice. “King Barjon requests your presence. Now.”

Darmik moved past Arnek.

“He said if you don’t come immediately, he’ll send the army for you.”

Laughing, Darmik spun around. “I am the army.” Arnek opened his mouth to say something
, but Darmik silenced him with a glare. “Tell my father I’m on my way.”

The king presumably wanted to know what part Darmik played in this mess. Lennek probably went to Father and cried about Darmik ruining his plans. Little did Lennek know how deadly the marriage would’ve
been.

Darmik went to the king’s study
, where he found him standing before a portrait of himself, a small fire glowing in the hearth.

“You had to do it, didn’t you?”
the king said as he clasped his hands behind his back, absorbed with the painting. “Lennek deserves happiness. But you had to go and steal his future wife from him.” King Barjon twisted around to face Darmik. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The king cracked his knuckles. Shaking his head in disgust, he continued, “No, of course you don’t. You have never understood how to be a part of this family. All you care about is yourself. You never think of others.”

Darmik bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speak
ing. How could his father accuse him of such a thing? All Darmik ever cared about was this family’s honor and protecting it. Why else would he go around killing for the king, sacrificing his own wants and desires?

The king moved to his desk, his hand hovering above
a whip. Darmik knew there was no point defending himself. After everything he’d done for his father, the king still didn’t appreciate any of it. Nor did he understand his son.

“Obviously we can’t have people finding out
that you betrayed your own family. After all, you’re still commander of
my
army.”

Darmik needed to get out of this room, out of the castle, and away from
King’s City. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m sorry you perceive the situation in such a manner. Your orders, Your Majesty?”

Instead of dismissing him as he’d hoped, the king continued, “We’ll keep your behavior quiet. I don’t want anyone to know what took place today.” The king moved to the window, away from the whip and Darmik. “Lennek
, of course, wants you reprimanded, and he wants Rema publically executed.”

Darmik
shook his head. His brother was a piece of work.

“I can’t publically whip my own son. I need my army strong right now
, and I want you out there leading it.” He spun around to face Darmik. “So I’ve reached an arrangement with your brother. Frankly, I’m glad the whore is going to be executed. I never understood Lennek’s obsession with her. We can find a docile commoner, one that’s easier to control. As for you, you’ll be whipped privately. Then you’ll return to the army where you will remain. Understood?”

“Yes,
Father,” Darmik replied. “Can I leave tomorrow?”

The king
sat on a high-backed leather chair and sighed. “No, I can’t have you rushing off just yet. I need you to stay here until after the execution. That way we can appear unified, and you can make sure the riots in other regions don’t spill into the city walls.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Darmik didn’t care about being whipped, it had happened often enough in the past. Eye on the prize—he was leaving soon.

“The governors are all
complaining about the increasing violence of the rebels. These churls are claiming that an heir is alive. Ridiculous. You’ll need to take care of these insolent fools.”

Which is what Darmik had been trying to do all along
, and he would be doing right now if he wasn’t here to appease Lennek. “Father, who told you the royal family didn’t tattoo their children until their first birthday?”

“Does it matter?” the king asked. “It was a reliable source. Besides, I’ve shown you all my evidence.”

“Yes, but I’m curious. And I want to verify everything. Just in case.”

“Obviously the rumors aren’t true.” The king stood and put his cape on. “But if you must know, it was that crazy old man, Trell. He’s the only other
person that even knows about the tattoos.”

It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water on
him. Trell?

The door
banged open, and Lennek rushed in. He unhooked his cape and threw it over the chair. “You,” he pointed at Darmik.

“Calm down and stop being so melodramatic,” the king ordered.

“But Father,” Lennek began.

The king raised his hand. “The whip is on my desk.  Darmik gets ten lashings here in my study. No one is to know.”

Lennek’s greedy eyes narrowed as they settled on the coiled whip.

Of course
Lennek was going to be the one to whip him. That would definitely make him happy.

“Darmik,” the king said. “You’ll receive your punishment for your actions and then help prepare for the execution. After
that, you are to leave. I don’t want to see you back here anytime soon.”

“Yes, Your M
ajesty.” Darmik felt like a dog. He was useful at commanding the army but that was it. Otherwise, he was a nail in his father’s boot. King Barjon gave Lennek a measured stare, and then walked from the room.

Even in charge of the army, Darmik was still at the mercy of the king. The king sentenced and executed civilians without so much as lifting a finger or understanding the consequences
, and Darmik was the one to carry it out. He was sick of killing their own people. No wonder everyone was rebelling, clinging to the idea of an heir. Anything was better than this monster of a man. King Barjon had made it easy for Rema, or Amer, to slip right in. He was practically handing the kingdom over to her. Once she was executed and the rebel leaders caught, the movement would die down. But then what?

The crack of the whip sliced through the air along with Lennek’s laugh.

“Over here,
brother
. Remove your tunic and undershirt. Then rest your hands on the desk.” Lennek ran his fingers over the leather whip, a malicious gleam to his eyes.

Darmik did as instructed
, his anger scarcely under control. He arched his bare back, covered with scars, ready for the first lashing.

“
Does it make you feel better?” Darmik asked. “Beating up on your younger brother? What would Mother say if she were still alive today?”

There was a hissing noise and then the whip hit dead center on
Darmik’s back, tearing his skin.

“One,” Lennek yelled. He lifted his arm, inhaled, and slammed the whip down again.
“Two!” The hatred in Lennek’s voice oozed.

Darmik
prepared for the third lashing. He refused to scream as the whip came down again, and again, tearing his skin to shreds. He clutched onto the edge of the desk, digging his nails into the wood.

By the eighth lashing, his voice came out in a low grunt.
Blood slid down the sides of his back and dripped onto the floor. With the tenth hit, Darmik’s legs buckled. He forced himself to stand back up.

Lennek kicked
Darmik’s tunic toward him. “Get dressed,” he sneered. “I think I’ll keep this.” Lennek held up the whip, now dripping with blood. “Maybe I can use it around Rema’s neck. I can’t wait to see her body dangle.” He spat at Darmik’s feet and left the room.

Darmik’s head spun. He needed to sit down and have his wounds dressed. Since no one was to know about the whipping, he’d have to make it to the
military compound alone, and then find Neco. He grabbed the water pitcher and drank. His vision swam. Darmik needed to get moving and stop the bleeding before he passed out.

Throwing
on his shirt, the fabric stuck to his back. He stumbled out of the room and headed toward the compound.

He couldn’t imagine Rema treating anyone,
not even her enemy, in such a vulgar manner. Visions of her giving children food flashed before him. Would she make a better leader? Probably. Did that give her the right to rule?

Darmik remembered seeing th
e little girl starving, holding her dead mother’s hand. He recalled his promise to Trell not to kill any more people. He remembered Trell tapping his chest, telling Darmik that the answer lies within. Darmik thought of the image of Rema standing before the window with the key strung on a necklace lying against her chest.