There Are Monsters in the Dark, and I Am One of Them

Viktor

She had fled. With a final, shattering glance, she had turned and run from the very man who had finally allowed his heart to choose, the one soul he had come to believe might genuinely choose him in return.

A chasm of agony opened within him. The Viktor of before, the cold and calculating monarch who existed prior to Natalia, would have been untouched by such a departure. Annoyed, perhaps, by the inconvenience of it all, but never wounded. This, however, was a Viktor remade by her presence. This was the man who found himself seriously weighing her audacious proposals for the betterment of his kingdom, the man who was already laying the groundwork for the schools and hospitals she had inspired. This was the Viktor who had come to treasure his wife, Natalia Ruen.

The pain was a physical thing, a shard of glacial ice lodging itself deep within his chest. The old, familiar callouses began to creep back over the raw wound, a desperate attempt by his heart to armor itself once more. Yet, the fortification was incomplete. He was too fundamentally altered by her to ever fully retreat into that frozen fortress again. His heart could never be entirely encased in ice, but that brought little comfort; the ache was no less excruciating.

Emerging from behind a cluster of ornate topiaries, Markus’s earlier glee evaporated, his features shifting into a mask of startled concern. He had concealed himself, wanting a front-row seat to the unfolding drama, but now he wished he had been anywhere else. He placed a steadying hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

"My friend," Markus urged gently, "you must give her time."

Viktor offered a vacant nod, a mechanical gesture utterly disconnected from the storm raging within him.

"I have to find her."

Markus sighed, a puff of exasperated air. "Did you not just agree to give her space?"

"Help me find her!" Viktor's voice was a raw, ragged command. He broke into a run, and Markus, after a moment’s hesitation, followed in his turbulent wake.

Another sigh escaped Markus’s lips. His friend had clearly been nodding just to placate him. Still, the practicalities of the situation were undeniable. Dignitaries from across the continent were arriving for the ball. It would be a diplomatic catastrophe if one of their esteemed guests stumbled upon the distraught queen before Viktor did. With swift efficiency, Markus dispatched a number of guards to begin a discreet search.

Viktor’s first stop was their bedchamber. It was empty, a silent testament to her absence. He stormed to Jace’s room. Nothing. A frantic hunt began, his long, desperate strides consuming the palace corridors. He tore through the grand halls, his search taking him as far as the kitchens—the very place he had first found her all those months ago. But she was gone. Time bled away as the sun dipped below the horizon, its last light surrendering to the encroaching dusk. The first guests began to filter in for the grand affair, forcing Viktor and Markus to paste on hollow smiles and weave a tapestry of excuses for the conspicuous absence of the Queen of Ruen.

Morgan

To find myself marching alongside that detestable king, a participant in his surprise assault, was a twist of fate so cruel it was almost comical. An all-consuming desire to inflict grievous harm upon him simmered constantly beneath my skin. Yet, I knew the futility of it; his entire army trailed behind us, a sea of steel and grim-faced soldiers. An outburst would only result in my swift death, and the vast military machine would grind on, short one furious captive and one king.

The chilling epiphany had washed over me days ago, terrifying in its implications: my entire existence had been orchestrated from the moment I drew my first, unwitting breath. Every choice, every turn—our attempted escape, my journey into Ethon, my "accidental" encounter with King Stefan—had been meticulously engineered. The question haunted me: Was any part of me truly free? Had I ever made a single decision that was genuinely my own?

And the brute had gagged me! He had actually dared to bind my hands and stifle my voice. A litany of curses and insults clawed at my throat, but the thick cloth wedged in my mouth reduced them to muffled, guttural snarls. Judging by the contemptuous sneer on King Stefan’s face, however, I suspected he got the message.

We had departed from his palace a week prior. Initially, the monster had thrown me into a rattling carriage, bound and alone, while he and his men enjoyed the freedom of horseback. Four times a day, I was let out for necessities, a prisoner in a wooden box until my frustration boiled over and I kicked out a window. After that, I was gagged, shackled once more, and forced to ride on King Stefan’s own horse, perched before him like some grotesque trophy. The humiliation burned. I yearned for an opportunity to use Josias’s poison ring, but the chance of reaching him was nonexistent.

A day's ride from the Ruen Palace, the main body of troops made camp. They were leaving a significant portion of their forces and supplies behind, proceeding as a smaller, more agile strike force to maintain the element of surprise. How we had managed to penetrate so deeply into Ruen’s territory without raising an alarm was a mystery that gnawed at me. During my next meal break, with the gag blessedly removed, I gave voice to my confusion.

"How have we come this far so easily?" I asked, my voice hoarse from disuse. "Why has no one spotted us?"

King Stefan graced me with a predatory grin. "For that, you can thank General Julian Gathersword. It pays to have friends in high places, does it not?"

"You are a monster," I spat. "I despise you."

The king merely chuckled, and once I had finished my meager meal, he mercilessly retied the gag. "I know. And frankly, my love, I couldn't care less."

The army pressed onward. As night fell, I could just discern the faint, glimmering lights of the Ruen palace in the distance. A lone rider, his horse slick with sweat, emerged from the gloaming and approached the king. He had clearly ridden hard from the direction of the palace.

"Your Highness," the soldier murmured, "there is a disruption at the palace. The queen is missing. The bulk of their guard has been occupied with the search for her all day. We have used the opportunity to install a few of our own men among the palace staff."

The king nodded, a glint of pure triumph in his eyes. We moved forward, a silent, lethal shadow creeping toward the kingdom’s distracted, vulnerable heart.

Natalia

I must have remained in the darkness for hours. When the wellspring of my sorrow finally ran dry, leaving only the salt-stains of grief on my cheeks, a cold and unwelcome clarity settled in its place. Viktor’s grand display hadn’t been a confession of love; it had been an act of control. He was merely managing me. He likely wanted to ensure my good behavior for the ball and calculated that a sweeping, romantic gesture would guarantee my compliance. It was a strategy to placate me, to make me feel cherished. In its own twisted way, it made a terrifying kind of sense. That realization, coupled with the fact that I was fairly certain I’d seen a vampire peeking from behind a support pillar and thought I’d heard a werewolf howling in the distance, cemented my resolve. It was time to leave.

With joints protesting stiffly, I rose to my feet and began to feel my way toward where I remembered the stairs to be. My foot connected with something hard.

"Ouch!"

After the throbbing in my toe subsided, I navigated my way out of the hidden passage and back into the forgotten, dusty room. I slid the heavy bed back across the flagstones, concealing the entrance once more, then crept to the hallway door, easing it open a crack. Seeing the corridor empty in both directions, I darted to the nearest shadowed alcove. I was a wreck; my hair was a tangled mess and my gown was streaked with filth. No one could see the Queen of Ruen looking like a common chimney sweep. It was as I was slipping between the shadows of two massive columns that I saw her. A face I hadn't seen in months, a person I thought I might never lay eyes on again.

Morgan.