King of the Woodlands

Chapter 9

The room was like the cave, hewn of darkest stone the color of storm clouds. The floor was made of tiles of marble that were black as night shadows on deep waters, so shiny Lilibeth could see her face in it. Countless columns connected by perfect archways supported the domed ceiling.

Even though there were mullioned windows in the dark room, no sunlight streamed through. The only light in the room was emitted from bright teal torches fastened to the walls. But even the torchlight shied from the elegant planes of the beautiful boy's face.

A tall grandfather clock sat in a forgotten corner of the room, comfortably ensconced in shadows, pecking away at the time like a crow's incessant caws. Lilibeth shifted her attention from the ornate clock to the silhouetted figure across from her.

Her body stopped moving for a second, frozen like a pond in the winter. She went stiff.

The Woodland King rose, the shadows around him melting away. Lilibeth's throat was tight, her heart tripping over itself in a clumsy, frenzied waltz.

The beautiful boy slammed Lilibeth's neck down to the black marble floor. She cried out as her face hit the cold floor, light splintering her vision. She felt quite betrayed and wanted to throw an apple at him, but she had no time to contemplate such things.

Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she beheld the ancient monster, whose tongue could taste dread and fear, whose remorseless heart was so black Death's Mouths spat him back out.

This—this was the face of a thousand nightmares.

His charcoal scales shone metallic silver, his wings vast and leathery like a bat's. He looked at her then, those black eyes drilling into hers. And she couldn't help but think—she hadn't ever seen such dark eyes with so much light in them.

The Woodland King turned to the boy, who had gone still. "What's this?" he asked in a midnight voice. "An elf who climbed high enough to take charge of the sun? A little swamp goblin looking for food?" The dragon glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

Meanwhile, our dearest Lilibeth did not appreciate being compared to a goblin, who were very, very ugly, with wart-speckled faces and brownish teeth and noses crooked as a scythe. But she bit down on her smart mouth. Father's life depended on her cooperation.

The Woodland King sat on his haunches like a cat, his dead eyes lit with terrifying fury. He opened his mouth, revealing rows of sharp pearl-white teeth. Lilibeth kept her chin high, even as she lay sprawled on the ground.

"Do you fear death?" he said, his voice trickling through her veins like warm honey. "No, answer me this question. Do you like life, Lilibeth Faren?"

Lilibeth didn't know whether or not to answer. She wanted to scream, but she'd forgotten how to breathe.

The Woodland King straightened. "Very well. Why are you here?"

The beautiful boy kicked her in the side. "Tell His Majesty, human filth."

"Not 'till you tell me who—what you are," Lilibeth said, stung by his words. She realized that not all pretty people had great personalities (in fact, dear reader, she'd even seen rocks with much better personalities than this beautiful boy). She decided then and there that she most certainly would not marry him. "And I am not filth, by the way."

The boy gave her another mirthless smile. "Well, I'm nothing and everything all at once," he said. "I'm old and true as time."

"Sorry, I don't speak riddle," Lilibeth snapped.

"I'd advise you to tuck that forked tongue of yours between your teeth. His Majesty can be merciful to those who—"

"Begone with you," the Woodland King snarled. It was enough to send the boy scuttling away.