"Fool! You dare—I will kill you!"
The words tore from my throat before I could think.
I lunged, my hand flying to my hair, ripping the hidden pin from its nest of curls. The pin was laced with venom—a poison I had prepared with the healers' help. It was meant to kill him. I drove it forward with every ounce of fury in my soul—
It pierced his tunic. Then his flesh.
I had done it.
I twisted the pin slowly, deliberately, feeling the metal grind against his bone. Blood gushed forth, spilling over my fingers like an offering to the gods below.
For a single, breathless moment, triumph swelled in my chest.
Then his hand shot up and shoved me backward with brutal force.
"Ahhhh!"
My spine cracked against the table's edge. Pain exploded through my body—white-hot, blinding. I crumpled to the ground, gasping, struggling to draw breath... struggling to even move.
I think my spine is broken.
But I did not care.
I had pierced his flesh, and to me, that was all that mattered.
I finally looked up. He reached down, plucking the pin from his chest as if it were a splinter. He examined it briefly, then tossed it aside. It clattered against the stone floor like a dying bird.
The wound on his chest glowed—a soft, white light, sacred and profane—and then it was gone. The skin knitted itself together. The blood dried and flaked away like ash scattered by the wind.
No. What is happening?
I stared in horror as his chest became smooth and unmarked. As if I had never touched him.
He cannot die.
I cannot kill him.
Am I a fool? He is not in his peak period.
This is hopeless.
Run, Aurelia. Flee this cursed place.
I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the fire in my spine, and bolted for the door.
I almost made it.
Before I knew it, my legs were yanked from under me. I hit the ground face-first, my nose cracking against the stone. Blood exploded from my nostrils, hot and metallic.
The guards. The ones who had opened the curtains. They had seized me.
I thrashed like a wild thing, kicking, doing all I could—but it was of no avail. I reached into my hair and found more pins—I had hidden several. I drove the first into the guard's neck.
He grunted. His grip loosened.
I drove another into his throat. He staggered back, hands clutching his neck, blood pouring through his fingers like water from a cracked vessel. He collapsed slowly, heavily, his body twitching as the life bled from him.
Dead.
I had slain him.
The thought struck me like a thunderbolt from Jupiter's hand.
My hands trembled. I had taken a life. A man's life. I had felt his blood on my fingers. I had watched the light fade from his eyes.
I kept looking at my hands... everything became loud in my ears...
I am a monster.
Steady yourself, Aurelia. Steady. There is another.
The second guard lunged. I swung wildly, my arms weak, my vision blurred with tears—when had I begun to weep?—and he caught my wrists.
He was strong. Too strong. His grip was iron forged in the fires of the underworld. I tried to twist away, tried to reach for another pin, but he was already pinning me to the table. My cheek pressed against the cold wood. My arms were wrenched behind my back.
I could not move.
I could scarce draw breath.
The dead guard lay motionless on the floor. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading too fast.
I had slain him. I had taken his life.
I should have felt nothing. He served a monster. He was a monster himself. He deserved his fate.
But all I felt was the weight of his blood upon my hands.
---
He rose from his throne, turning his back to me.
"You are more stubborn than I had divined," he said, his voice calm as still water. "You have sent one of my praetorians to the underworld. A useless life, truly. But now... what punishment shall befall you, little mortal?"
I thrashed against the guard's iron grip, but my voice had fled. Only ragged gasps escaped my lips—my lungs afire, my spine a shriek of agony.
"Forgive me, my lord," I lied, my voice trembling with false contrition. I could not move from this table if I did not act quickly. "Please... I cannot tell what came upon me. I have killed a man. I shall do anything to regain your trust. I am sincerely sorry... please."
I could hear the sneer beneath his mask. Oh, I knew what he wanted. Most men were like this. All they desired was anything inside a skirt.
I would try my best to please him. I had to bring him to his peak.
"Chop off her head."
I choked, the words striking me like a blade.
"I am sorry, Tenebrarum... I am..."
"You know you lack everything called respect," he said, his voice cold as the grave. "Your sister was far finer than you. She would have made a better toy than you."
"How dare you!" I struggled, but the guards' grip was iron. I could not move. "How dare you speak of my sister! You dare not—you all killed her! It is your head that I shall chop off!"
"Then do not chop it," he said softly. "Grind the blade upon her throat. I wish to watch, bit by bit, as her life flees."
I saw the knife approach my neck.
What is life without revenge?
You may call me a fool. But how could I live with all this blood upon my hands? Flavia. The healers. The guards. All of them.
It was better this way.
They held my neck. The knife dug slowly into my flesh. Blood trickled down, warm and crimson.
Is this death? I do not know. I could not bear it.
---
Then the door burst open.
"My lord! A message from the King!"
Tenebrarum raised his hand. The blade stopped. The guards released me.
"My father," he said, his voice sharp. "Speak the message now."
The messenger unrolled a scroll and read aloud:
"My son—I have sent several messages to you. Have you not seen them?
I know you do not wish to return to the palace. I understand your reasons. But you are my successor. I have chosen you. I cannot leave this world without a strong king to replace me.
Come home. And take your place as Crown Prince."
The messenger bowed after delivering the news.
So the wicked dark creature, King Mortifer, is dying?
That was glad tidings indeed.
I wanted to laugh, but the pain in my neck made it impossible. I was bleeding. Dying, perhaps.
"My lord," the messenger said, "shall I prepare the carriage?"
"No!" Tenebrarum rose from his throne, his voice ringing with authority. "As Crown Prince, I shall make a grand entrance."
"Sir, do you mean a ball?"
"Tell my father," Tenebrarum declared, "that I shall not set foot in the palace unless something spectacular is arranged."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"Sir," a guard asked, "what of this coward? Shall we still kill her?"
Tenebrarum glanced at me—a brief, cold look.
"Take her to the estate dungeon. She shall sleep there tonight."
He stared at me for a heartbeat longer. Then he turned.
"Do I not deserve treatment?" I called out, my voice cracking. "If I sleep in the dungeon, I shall die. My neck needs stitching."
He paused. For a moment, I thought he might relent.
He ignored me. And left.
---
I lay on the cold stone, blood pooling beneath my neck, my body broken and bleeding.
"Let us go," one of the guards grunted, gripping my arm.
Two of them dragged me from the chamber, my bare feet scraping against the marble floor. The crimson dress had slipped, torn, exposing more than it covered.
If only I had something—anything—to protect myself. I should not have been disgraced like this.
"I can walk myself!" I managed, forcing my legs beneath me.
"You have a mouth," the guard sneered, shoving me forward. My dress fell further, my breasts exposed to the cold air.
They did not care.
"A very large one," the other laughed, his eyes crawling over my body.
"Young lady, you think yourself strong," the first guard said, his voice low and mocking. "Perhaps the only thing keeping you safe from the prince is these eyes. This face. You are the most beautiful human I have ever seen."
His finger traced my cheek. I recoiled, trying to escape.
"No," he continued, his hand sliding down, "it is these juicy breasts."
His hand cupped me, squeezing roughly.
"Get your hand off me!" I screamed, tears spilling down my cheeks. I could not even fight back. My body was broken, my strength gone.
"Get your hands off her," the other guard snapped. "She belongs to the master."
"Do you think the master will stoop so low as to bed this thing?" the first guard scoffed. "No. But beautiful girl—after the master is done with you, I shall have you."
He continued to harass my body, his fingers digging into my flesh.
"He plans to kill her, fool!" the other guard pushed me forward, dragging me down a narrow staircase into darkness.
"I know," the first guard said, his voice dripping with vile promise. "But even after death, I can find her attractive. As long as there is a hole... my cock shall fit."
I nearly vomited. My eyes grew weak. I was losing too much blood. Everything blurred.
---
They threw me into a dirty cage.
CLANG!
The door closed shut. They left.
I lay there, broken and bleeding, my body trembling against the cold stone.
"Someone help..." I tried to scream, but my voice betrayed me—fading, dissolving into a whisper.
"Take me to the valetudinarium. Save me..."
My eyes fluttered closed.
But then—no. It could not be.
A figure moved in the shadows.
Carla.
My elder sister. At the other side of the gate.
"Aurelia you're alive..."
---
To be continued...