“I thought all of you slept during the day.” I'm referring to these magical beings, outside of the human world.

  He laughs at this, “We're not vampires.”

  “Are there vampires here that I should know about?” I'm shocked.

  He ignores me. And I stare at him, waiting. Is that a cut across his face? I blink, and it's gone.

  “Where are we going?” I demand to know.

  “To the catacombs,” He says as if it's obvious.

  “Oh no,” I say. I stop walking, and like a real attachment, he's yanked back to me.

  He blinks, “Is something wrong? I need you to break this curse. The bones should strengthen your power.”

  “I doubt the bones will help. I can't break an old curse.”

  “Sure, you can. They're human remains from people found here. If that doesn't work, then we'll try a ruler's cemetery. But first, I need to make a stop.”

  “Why are the human bones kept in a catacomb?” I ask carefully. I know he's telling me something.

  “Because they crossed over without permission.”

  “They don't get to go back?”

  He shakes his head slowly, then disappears into a building, “I'll be right back.”

  He's in a cemetery house, and it's like I'm dragged right away. I sit at the door because the bond between us makes me stay close. He knows. And he knows that I'll be killed. But not if by him, then who? Maybe I’m wrong to believe that he still needs me alive.

  “Alright, let's go.”

  There's a very small opening that I'm not even sure I'll make it. I stare at it for a moment.

  “How big is it down there?” I ask.

  His face lifts into a hint of a smile, “Big.”

  “Really?” I scoff and move towards the hole in the ground, “Can't you go first?”

  “I believe that the honor is reserved for ladies.”

  “Just this once?” I feel my nerves eating at me.

  “Yes,” he sighs, “but only because you asked nicely.” He rolls his eyes.

  He gracefully gets to the ground and puts his lower half into the hole. Once he’s in the middle, he drops down and disappears completely from my sight. I feel the presence wrapped around me tug. I have to go in there, too.

  I get to the ground in measured movements that don’t quite capture his agility and dangle my body within the whole. But I grab onto the Earth around me. I change my mind and try to crawl out, but gravity is already wearing on me. My arms are too tired.

  I try to get up again, but my muscles have begun to shake. My body locks into place, but I know it’s unsustainable. I need to get out of the hole.

  Something wraps around me and gives me a gentle tug. My arms are failing from weeks of inactivity in prison.

  “Help,” I beg the shadow man, “Will you catch me?” I whine.

  “Yep,” he says, his voice sounding too far away.

  “Promise me?”

  The thing around me tugs harder, and I fall. I let out a scream, and something stops my fall inches before the ground, before setting me down. I’m breathing heavily, and I’ve lost it.

  “What the fuck was that?” I turn to the ruler and realize it’s too dark to see him. I can’t see anything; I can only smell the rotten spring smell of the dirt and the age of the tunnel. A tunnel? No. I try to climb back up to the light, but slide right down the damp wall, completely covered in the clay from the wall.

  “Are you done?”

  “Let me out,” My voice shakes with desperation. I feel the walls closing in around me, “have to get to the top.”

  “Come on,” He sighs.

  The bargain pulls me towards him, and I find that I don’t have to see to follow him. My foot finds a divot, and I fall forward.

  He whips around, and all I see are his eyes. They’re blacker than the cave, but the orange glow around his irises and the yellow flecks of light in the surrounding area make me stumble on the floor backwards.

  “Get it together,” he snarls.

  I try dust off the chunks of mud at my knees and backside, but only feel it smear along my clothes. I rest my hands on the ground, but meet a moving rock. But the shape is not right. I lift it into the very little light that my eyes are adjusting to and scream. I throw it to the ground and am on my feet in an instant. I’d never touched a skull before.

  My legs take off towards the ruler without hesitation, bumping right into him. He stands solidly, and I bounce right off him. He doesn’t catch me, and I’m on the ground again, which I quickly jump up from and smear more mud on myself.

  “If I have to carry you to get through here, I will,” He threatens.

  There are so many bones. Who had the femur next to me? Or how about the fine finger bones scattered about? Suddenly, being carried out of here doesn't sound so bad.

  He blows out a breath of air, then lifts me to my feet, “Wipe yourself off and keep walking.”

  Compared to the floor, I’ll take his temper. I stay right next to him like glue and stumble blindly through the dark. Now the walls are actually closing in, and my hands brush against the walls. Something falls to my feet, and I jump away from it, only causing more.

  I’m cursing with a scream lodged in my throat when the ruler's arms go around me, and he narrowly avoids the wall, me in his arms, and sets me down in front of him. When his hands are off my arms, I shiver. Is that a child’s skull in the wall?

  He urges me forward, but I don't move a step.

  “You either walk behind in front or behind,” He growls.

  I turned to him, “I really don't appreciate this. First, you drag me down here, no warning, and I can't see shit, and you're acting like I'm the one at fault.”

  He has the nerve to laugh at me, “Do you need a flashlight?”

  “Maybe I do,” I cross my arms in front of my chest. A creak scares me away from the right side of the wall, and he laughs again.

  “A cursed court ruler afraid of some bones,” He mutters.

  I stay rigid, and he sighs, “There’s natural sunlight coming up.”

  I can’t take another step. “How far up?”

  “Walk,” he demands, his voice not as sharp as before, “The ground is inclining, so watch your step.”

  I do, forcing one foot after the other. He tells me where to avoid stepping, and now I’m pissed.

  “How can you see?” I cross my arms over my chest again.

  “My power,” He mutters like I should know this.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Sorry, there are no books on whatever you are.”

  “I am a ruler of the Onyx court, part of the arcane four. As are you.”

  “Okay, there's sun, there's you, and there's me. Who is the other ruler?” Distractions. Distractions are good.

  “The Blessed Court Ruler.”

  “Why can't the sun king just go there?”

  “Blessings are gifts in this world. Giving a curse a bouquet does nothing for it.”

  “And why can't you break the curse yourself again?”

  “I control the dark elements.”

  “If you’re like the Court of Hell, then is the Court of Sun like Heaven?"

  “Who says that I'm like Hell?”

  “I thought that's what you represent?”

  He laughs, “Well, I am pretty hot.”

  “Your confidence is unbelievable.”

  “And your slow pace is undeniably slow.”

  “Maybe it's because I don't have the Devil on my side. Unless you tell me your name, I'm going to call you Budapest.”

  He laughs, “Why? So that you can curse me?”

  I roll my eyes. Deep breath. Step over more bones. Think.

  “You do have a name, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I have a name,” he grumbles, and I shrug.

  We get into the area with more sunlight, and I feel like I can breathe again. But that’s before I realize the stench.

  “Don't do that,” He mutters, as I gag. And I believe that I'll be fine, but suddenly I paint the floor, tasting my own stomach.

  “What the hell is that smell?” I ask weakly.

  “You don't look well. Maybe we'll have to come back later.”

  “No, let's get it over with.” I am not coming back here again.

  He sighs, “Alright.”

  He sits in the middle of the opening. I gag again, but there's nothing left to throw up. He gestures to me to sit across from him, and I do.

  He pulls out a container of salt and pours it in a circle behind us.

  “For good luck?” He takes a handful and tosses it over his shoulder. I eye him, but do it too. I need all the luck that I can get these days.

  “Do you always carry salt?”

  “Purification from curses is just what the world needs more of.”

  “Whatever,” I say. He waits, like I'm supposed to be doing something.

  “Feel anything?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then we'll go to the ruler's cemetery."

  “Oh no,” if it smells like fresh death in there, I'll throw up again.

  “Not today,” He shakes his head.

  And I blink, and we're at the hole where we first came in, standing above the catacombs.

  I gasp, then glare at the ruler, “You could have just portaled us in there!”

  “You were supposed to pick up power from walking by the bones,” He shrugs, but I know that he's lying. Was it another mind game? Perhaps an intimidation tactic?

  I continue to glare at him. We walk back to the castle, never straying too far apart. Stupid bargain. I’d like to be further away.

  “Can you just portal anywhere?" I'm still pissed off.

  “Only places that I know well.”

  “Where do you know well?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Bring me back to the castle. Throw me in the cell. I don't care. I don't want to be here anymore.”

  In another blink, we're back, but not anywhere near the tunnels that go to the prison. I don't recognize where we are.

  “We're in the guest bedroom,” He says as I look around.

  “Choose something to wear,” He mumbles.

  I go to the closet and find stacks and stacks of women's clothes. Since I don't wear dresses, I chose a tank top and some bicycle shorts. A nice change from the prison-issued ones.

  “Take a shower,” He says when I'm done.

  “You take a shower,” I cross my arms, “I won't be ordered around.”

  “I will when you're done.” His eyes rake over my body, which is still caked in drying mud. Screw him.

  I stare, and he smirks suggestively, “Unless you want to shower together."

  I turn on my heel and walk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I flinch at the noise and look into the mirror. There are circles under my eyes, and I do look rough. I undress quickly and turn on the water until it's a comfortable temperature. I try to step in, but can't. It's like a tether pulls me back.

  I try again, but realize the problem. I walk out, a towel wrapped around myself, and glare at the ruler.

  “I can't reach the shower. You're too far away.”

  He looks up from the bed that he's sitting on, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I huff.

  “Okay,” He moves to sit against the wall in front of the bathroom.

  I slam the door behind me again and climb into the shower. Should I have locked it? This is stupid. But it's been so long since I've taken a shower.

  The hot water burns as the floor turns brown and orange. I struggle to get the temperature just right, but when I do, I feel tension release in my body. My worries that I carry are temporarily removed as I look through my soap options. There are too many, really.

  They smell like herbs and spices, and I idly wonder if the ruler does too. I choose a lavender option to calm my nerves, mixed with rosemary, and sigh in relief. Next is a hair mask or conditioner to remove all of the tangles, but my hair bunches in my hand, clearly in a knot.

  A sugar scrub has my body glowing again, and smooths out the scrapes I’ve acquired, leaving my skin feeling and looking hydrated. This is exactly what I’ve needed. I shut the water off regrettably and begin to towel dry, taking my sweet time. Maybe being stuck to a ruler has its perks. I wash my face with fancy soap in the sink for good measure and put on the most expensive-smelling lotion before I get dressed.

  The clothes here, even though normal, are silkier, softer than the ones I’ve ever had. Instead of getting into scratchy or stiff fabrics, my body is encased in a soft blanket. Wonderful.

  “You took long enough,” he says without a show of emotion.

  “Your prison can use a shower,” I hiss.

  “It has one?”

  “It does?”

  “You weren't let out or allowed to take a shower?” His eyes, which I can now see, appear to get darker.

  “I didn't think you cared,” I shrug.

  He stands up so he's towering over me, and I take a step backwards. He says nothing but steps around me. The bathroom door closes, and the shower starts. I sigh and sit where he was. I’m surprised by his normality. I suppose that even high-status people have to stay clean.

  I'm bored out of my mind waiting. No wonder he complained. I look around the room and take note of all the womanly touches. Who stayed in this room? Whose exquisite shampoos, lotions, and more did I just use? Whose damn clothes am I wearing?

  I’m at the window looking for an escape just in case it’s necessary, and the bargain somehow fades away. I unlock the window, noting its beauty, and lean out the window to discover nothing but a steep drop. The tether of the bargain stretches tight.

  “Stop that!” I hear from the bathroom.

  I do and sit down next to the wall again. I wait for the shower to shut off and know he's out and likely getting dressed, so I get up again, testing how far I can get. I just barely cross the room and lean so I can grab a book of interest on the nightstand.

  I sit back down with it and begin reading. The door opens silently, and he's standing next to me.

  “You like to read?” He asks.

  I take a card out of his book and ignore him. When I finally look, he's in a towel hanging dangerously low at his waist. I turn back to my book.

  “I forgot to grab clothes,” He sighs, “You'll have to come with me.”

  “Oh.” I get up and follow him through the hallway to what must be his room. He doesn't open the door for me, though.

  “Stay here,” He mumbles, and closes the door. I feel a tug at the tether, but ignore it. A minute later, he's out.

  We walk in silence to the large dining room again. The double doors are open and inviting despite the shadows that consume the castle at night. The chandelier up above sparkles, its lights dimly lit. I allow myself to eat more, having weaker willpower than last time. It leaves me feeling sluggish from the richness of the soup, and then, we have the hearty main course.

  “What now?” He asks, as if talking to himself, when our plates are cleared. We’re both full.

  He leads me through a pocket door into a space that’s still upstairs and opens up considerably. There are more windows than I’d ever expected, and the real estate of his Court is below, the sprinklers on, and not a person in sight.

  “Where do your people live?”

  “To the south of the castle,” He motions behind us.

  “Oh.”

  I find myself sitting on the black couch, analyzing the outdoors below us. He sits across from me. He lights a lamp with a match, then begins going through what appears to be mail, occasionally writing, entering the paper into the mail, and resealing it to be sent out.

  I listen to the crickets down below, and before I know it, I’m woken up by his movement.

  “Bedtime,” is all he says.

  I swallow. What does that entail? I’m wide awake now.

  When we arrive in the guest room again, everything is rearranged. The bed is split, one mattress in front of the wall by the bathroom, in front of the window, and the other where the old one had been. It’s arranged purposefully so that I can get to the bathroom even with the bargain, and I appreciate it. The window blocking has me wondering, however, as he takes that one without a debate.

  “Are there toothbrushes?” I ask him.

  “In my room,” He mumbles, and we make the trip there. Before he shuts me out, he asks, "Anything else?”

  “My dignity back, or to take back this bargain. Either or.” I grumble.

  “I'll keep in mind,” He shakes his head, then disappears behind the door.

  I walk over to the window and feel a tug harsher than ever. The ruler appears right by my side.

  “That window is cursed,” He says coldly, and I spin around and almost fall over from the shock of him being so close.

  “What?” My mind is reeling. Curses in his own castle?

  “Every person that I've known to look out of the window is dead.”

  “Strange coincidence?”

  “Every day after looking, always a death by suicide?”

  I listen and take a step away. He hands me a toothbrush and follows me back into the guest bathroom. I shiver and crawl into my bed when my teeth are clean.