Chapter 66

 

This chapter has been copied from the original and may contain typos and grammatical errors.

~*~

Grasping at sheets instead of Seneca, Gloria twisted awake, energy and rage running through her limbs.

He had lied to her. He had always lied to her, and she had come to know and expect this, but she hadn't expected this to be a lie. For him to lie about Seneca being dead- who would lie about such a thing?

And he had murdered Henry. Like flashes of lightning, she was able to see through the dark of untruth and remember what had happened. She had held Henry as he died. Sweet Henry, who liked to read to her. Who told her that Seneca wasn’t all bad, as if she couldn’t tell that herself. Her clothes hadn’t been burned... they were covered in blood. Seneca had been pinned to the wall, and Blake had steel in his eyes.

She hadn’t started the fire, that must have been Illia.

And Blake. He had Seneca locked in the dungeon, in agony, fearing for his life. Her Seneca.

She thrust the doors open, walking through the corridors in just her nightgown. Where was Blake’s room again? It was in with the Duchess’s apartments, if she remembered correctly.

She grasped the handle, turning it sharply and heaving the door open. It was dark, and Blake startled up in his bed. “Gloria-!” He looked confused. “What’s the ma-”

“You lying bastard!” she shouted, shoving him in the chest. “You lied about everything! Everything! I’m not your blessed princess, stop pretending I am. You took everything from me, and you expect me to be happy?! Have you lost your mind? Or did you expect me to?”

“Gloria, what are you talking about? I love you, I wouldn’t lie to-”

“You told me Seneca was dead.” she looked at him with coals in her eyes. “You told me I was the only survivor, while this whole time you had him here, in the dungeon as your prisoner. You’ve been hurting those I care about and you think you can sleep with me on the side? I once thought I should love you, but I could never do that now. You- you’re a monster!”

He squinted his eyes. “Who’s in the dungeon?” He rose from his seat on the bed, and walked towards her, and she felt the cold finger of fear that prey feels when it’s being hunted. “Seneca? The boy you’ve been sharing dreams with for years?” he took another step towards her, nearly to her. Gloria took a step towards the corner, knowing that she had put Blake between her and the door. “Seneca, the pretender to the throne? That’s who I have in the dungeon? The boy the seer thought was special? You’ve made friends with the false heir? He’s the most dangerous person you could have bumped into, and you became friends with him? You’ve always been naive. So very naive.”

~*~

Montoya knocked on Gloria’s door, hoping to not be seen. “Miss, it’s me. I have news. May I enter?”

No answer came from the other side of the door.

~*~

“Calling me naïve is blaming the victim for the crime. I believed you, that’s on you. But that’s not going to happen any longer. I’ll never marry you, and the line of kings ends here.”

Blake bit his lip, holding back anger. “I grow exceedingly tired of your games, Gloria.” He grabbed hold of her arm, his grip tight as he pulled her along. “Too much rides on your cooperation, too much to lose it now. We’ll see how you feel from your room after a week,” he said through gritted teeth.

He dragged her through the palace and up the stairs, all the while Gloria tried to pull herself out of his grasp.

“Let- me- go!” she finally pulled hard enough to wrench free, making a dash for the other side of the room, trying to get away from him. He was too fast for her though, and strong. He grabbed her waist and hoisted her up onto his shoulder. She clawed at his back, tried to kick and scream, but nothing she did seemed to even slow him down.

Reaching her door, he threw her inside and quickly locked the door behind him. “I’ll let you out when you see that you’ve made a mistake and see things my way!” he shouted. He looked at Montoya, who was standing beside the door, trying his best to not look bewildered. “Make sure that no one goes in and no one comes out. If they do, it’s your head.”

“Yes sir,” he said, but Blake was already dashing down the stairs and running though the palace like a cat hound after a fox.

With shaking hands, he unlocked the door to the dungeon, throwing it open. He looked down the stairs, trying to wrap his head around the situation. Part of him told him to hold back, to be more disciplined and diplomatic, but the larger part of him told him that what he had in the dungeon was too dangerous to be kept alive.

He walked down the stairs deliberately, restraining each step so that he didn’t run down and kill himself by falling.

The pretender. He had the pretender here the whole time, for two weeks, and Gloria had been with him for two months. The odds were impossible, but advantageous. Seneca should have killed Gloria when he’d had the chance if he’d wanted to live.

The pile looked up at him, a small smile on his face, one of resignation and surrender. “You look a bit tense,” he teased.

“You’re stronger than I thought you’d be. Scrawny, for the pretender,” Blake threw back.

Seneca smiled and looked at his hands. “I guess Gloria didn't do what I told her to then,”

“She never does. Not for long,” Blake said as he opened the door to the cell.

“Not to poke the oncoming bear, but as I don’t have many chances left to do so, I may as well,” He looked up, “Has she ever told you she loved you?”

Blake jolted to a stop in the middle of his stride.

“She did to me,” Seneca continued, smiling weakly. “I can’t do anything with that in the time I have left, but- I know that with Gloria’s love I will never be forgotten. She’ll love me far longer than either of us-” he gestured between himself and Blake, “-will walk this earth. And that gives me hope. Because even if- sorry, when- you kill me, death will not stop me from loving her, and no grave will hold me back. You may think that you’re stopping me, but you can never do that.”

Blake looked at him with his shark eyes. “The seer enchanted me to stop interrogating you, but killing isn’t a question,”

He pulled out a blade, and pushed it through Seneca’s chest. “Say hello to your friend for me,” he sneered. “And Gloria is mine.”

Gasp! A cliffhanger! Who, me? I write cliffhangers? No! Never!

Only one little extra pic, here we go:

I thought kissing in the snow was kinda cute, and I'm still sour that snow looks so much prettier moving than still.

This last week was so busy for me, I'm very happy to finally have a few days where I'm not running around with my head cut off. I literally forgot my purse in a theater and I thought I'd lost it forever, and I babysat for a friend over night, and I got my first covid shot, and then I was supposed to have a three day weekend but my coworker called in sick and I was incredibly bitter about it which isn't very grown up on my part but as someone who's rarely sick (Only called in once in the last 4 years and I don't take time off), I don't like being the only one who has to come in all the time.

Anyway, this week is not as busy, so the future looks bright! Well, for some of the characters, anyway.