Kier
My footsteps echo down the empty hallway, and the silence between each step is unnerving. I rarely pay visits to this wing of the castle—the dungeons. It reminds me too much of the visits I’d paid to my father before he was executed.
A soul-rending howl splits the air, and the sound of a desperate plea follows. Lloyd walks ahead, motioning to the guards to let us through. I stare at him and stifle the anger that threatens to build.
It’s been four days since I spoke to Jessamine, four days since I tucked her in to sleep. She won’t even look at me, the ungrateful witch. Or talk to me. For four days, I’ve been on edge, anticipating what she might do next, when she will visit my study again, when next she might taunt and haunt me.
She’s everywhere. The hallways, the breakfast table, the training halls, the gardens, outside my study, the library, every godsdamned place in my castle, and yet, all she’s done, is act like I do not fucking exist. She’s either laughing or joking around with Lloyd, who, for the life of me, I can’t decide if he’s on my side or not. She walks past me and her eyes glaze right over me as she pays her obeisance. I cleared my work schedule to ensure I would be available during breakfast, to prevent a repeat of what happened, but rather than thank me, she acts like the last place she wants to be is around me.
Yesterday, she’d left the breakfast hall in such a hurry, I’d followed. Only to find her in the gardens, alone with Lloyd, resting her head against his shoulder as she read from a book.
Do I hate my best friend? Definitely not, but in the past four days, I’ve thought of several subtle ways of granting him a painless death. The vile thoughts have sent me to the Goddess’s temple six times in the last three days.
I can’t decide if she’s doing this to me on purpose, or if she’s moved her fixation elsewhere. It should be a good thing. It shouldn’t make me feel like my insides are getting torn out every time she gives her dimpled smile to Lloyd. But it does, and my patience is wearing thin.
The guards bow, stepping aside as I walk through. The stench of blood and vomit roils my stomach and the sound of screaming rings in my ears. It’s easy to forget that this place exists. Father had it built so deep into the ground, even if the prisoners screamed for a thousand years as they were being tortured, no one would hear them. I once found it hypocritical of him, but now, I understand his choices. Better to hide the scourge from the people than let them know it exists.
Remis, the warden of the dungeons, rushes to my side. “Your Maj—”
“Alpha,” I correct. “Report.”
Your Majesty. I hate that. It was my father’s title, and my ancestors’ as well. And they were all tyrants. I wanted to be different. Not seen like they were. I wanted to be respected, not feared. So, I stuck to Alpha, cut down the rules and introduced laxity.
Had it been my father to whom Jessamine stood up, he’d have killed her on sight. In the crowd that day, I’d seen the disappointment of the other alphas when I didn’t. Such blood thirst is what I try to rid from my court and pack. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if trying not to be my father makes me look weak; pathetic.
“Alpha,” Remis intoned, lowering his head to speak in my ears. He’s a burly man, seven feet tall, with great mass and strength. He dwarfs me by five inches, but I’d beat him in a duel within mere seconds. It was the only reason he agreed to be the warden, and there was no better man in Neredia to keep the prisoners in check.
And torture them.
“Six dead. Poison and tongues bitten out. There’s only one left and he won’t talk.”
I shoot Remis a cold look. “When given a task, Remis, ensure never to return with a report of failure. It displeases me so.”
His head hunches. “I apologize. I will—”
“There’s no time for that. Where is the prisoner, and what do we know of him?” I ask, walking past cell after cell, occupied by only the most heinous criminals.
“Nothing on the records about him.” Lloyd holds a door open for me. “He is down there. Be careful, K—Alpha.”
Nodding, I step in, hands pushing down to my sword pommel when the heavy door shuts behind me. The torches light the sole path, and I follow, delving deep into my mind, searching for that cold, unfeeling place. I need it for what I’m about to face.
The path goes on and on, and the tortured screams grow nearer. Until I am in an antechamber bathed in red and black. The executioner, Eldris, turns upon hearing my footsteps, and I see the rogue, seated on the chair. His left eye is swollen shut, his nose broken, and the collar around his neck is made of ash, burning through his skin.
My gaze drops, and I note the missing fingers on each hand. There are lash marks along his bare chest, wounds healing and anew altogether. He looks gaunt, almost lifeless. Yet, he breathes, gazing upon me with hatred.
“Alpha,” Eldris greets, stepping away from the rogue.
I settle on the chair opposite the rogue and he lunges, baring his teeth fiercely at me. I arch a brow, noting the locket around his neck, layering atop the collar, and what looks to be a wedding band right beside it. The rusting metal gleams in the light, and when he sees me staring at it, his snarl falters.
“Get the bit out,” I say to Eldris. To the rogue, I ask, “What might I call you?”
“I hope you rot in hell,” he spits, and I duck before the liquid can touch me.
I nod. “That’s a long ass name. Let’s call you I-H-Y-R-I-H.” I retrieve my blade from its holster. “I’ll cut you loose if you tell me who sent you,” I coo. “A name, and you can see your wife again. And your daughter.” It’s only an assumption, but the immediate spark of fear in his eyes tells me all I need to know.
He laughs, and three of his teeth are missing. It’s an ugly laughter, tainted with fear and hate. “We’ve heard of you. We know your truth,” he croons.
I cock my head a little, and in one movement, my sword swipes at his neck, cutting the chain off. He jerks, eyes widening as I pull back. Blood drips from the side of his neck, but it’s nothing serious.
Handing my sword to Eldris, I toss the wedding band to the ground and open the locket. There are two women in it. A blonde with animated green eyes, and she holds a little girl in her arms. I pull out the picture and toss it to Eldris. “Have Remis search the villages in Eldora. Kill them on sight.”
The man lunges, growling and roaring, confirming my speculation. Rogues act alike. Cut ties with their families because I’m benevolent enough to only punish the perpetrator. Today, however, I do not have it in me to be nice. My subjects died, and the council of elders and Alphas demand I act. Raze the villages along the border. Execute all the rogues!
Eldris stares at me in surprise, but he says nothing and walks off quickly. I-H-Y-R-I-H snarls, murder gleaming in his eyes as he tries to cut through the chains holding him. “I’ll kill you!”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my ankle over my knee and prop my head against my fist. “You’re not in the position to make demands. Give me a name, and I’ll give you a head start to find your family before Remis does. You’ve seen his work. They’ll suffer before they die.”
My voice is cold and empty, and when he looks in my eyes, he sees the truth he wants to. His family will die if he doesn’t tell me what I need to hear. He alone will be the scapegoat. I need to make a statement. It’s long overdue anyway.
“Mallory is only five. She’s innocent,” he says, voice breaking.
I smile coldly. “The women you killed were innocent too, but that didn’t stop you.”
“You’re worse than your father.”
My smile widens into a grin even as my insides churn with disgust. “Happy to impress.”
The scent of fear fills the air, and his sweat mingles with his blood. “Please,” his voice cracks as the heavy door shuts. “He’ll kill them.”
“Who?”
His lips shake. “The King.”
“Atticus?”
He starts to tremble. “No. The King of Dawn.”
I sit up at that. Why the fuck would he do that? We have kept to our side for years, sending over offers for a peace treaty. I have tried tirelessly to fix my father’s mistake. He’s starting a war? Whatever for?
“Why send rogues to do his dirty work?” I ask, bewildered.
“We weren’t told why.” He swallows. “Please let me go.”
Sighing, I get out of the chair and walk around his, grasping at the chains. They burn and I wince as I pull on the lock, freeing him. He’s out of the chair, running, falling, rising again, running and stumbling. Blood drips where he falls, and from the nature of his wounds, I can tell he’s not going to last the night. He’s lost too much blood, and the ash mingling with the wounds has prevented it from healing.
He’s a dead man, moving only with the sole conviction of saving his family.
I pull out a dagger from my boots and twist it in my hands, taking slow, deliberate steps as I approach him. You’re worse than your father, he’d said. Oh well, the apple doesn’t fall far from its tree, does it?
He looks back, snarling, crawling with fear and anguish.
“"Please," he whimpers as I catch up to him. My boots scrape the ground, and I drop into a crouch, reaching for the nape of his neck. He twists, at the last second, throwing a weak blow at me. I duck, catching his arm, and his eyes are raw and wild. "Spare Mallory," he pleads. "She's a child. She hasn't even lived yet."
My fingers squeeze around his wrist. “You’re the last of them. The only one I can punish. I’ll spare both your wife and daughter if you slit your throat for me. Can you do that?”
I hear him swallow, and I see it in his eye. His decision. I smile, pressing the dagger into his bloodied palm. It dangles loosely in his grasp, his missing digits making it uneasy. “Give me your word,” he whispers, and I think it’s laughable that he’s making demands after what he’s done.
“You have my word.”
He brings the dagger to his throat and closes his eyes. I wait.
But he doesn’t do it. With shocking speed, he aims for my neck, and I scuttle back to avoid being hit. He lunges again, and I swipe at his neck, my claws jutting out. Blood spills and he chokes, grasping at his throat to stop the bleeding.
I sigh, sitting on the floor beside him as he bleeds to death. He wheezes and chokes, coughing up more blood.
“You never did tell me your name,” I mutter, taking my dagger from the pool of blood forming around him. “Not that you deserve it, but I’ll spare them. I am not my father.”
And when he stops breathing, I reach over him and close his eyes.
The walk back up is silent. Lloyd knows better than to talk to me in this state. Every time I kill, it takes days before I return from the cold, dark place I have fallen into.
Lloyd leaves me in front of my study, and I enter, only to grab a bottle of alcohol that’s older than I am. My footprints are covered in blood as I walk up the stairs, each step weighing heavily on me.
I take the last step, reaching the balcony, the only place in the world I can truly hide and let go. But the scent of black licorice teases my nostrils, halting me in my steps. I raise my gaze off the floor, and Jessamine stands, leaning against the iron railings. Her violet gaze beckons to me. "Hey."
She's wearing a white dress, her hair let down. Even with no makeup on, she's the brightest, most beautiful star I've ever seen. It hurts to look at her, and I stare at my wine bottle instead. "What do you want?" I ask tiredly.
Her gaze flicks to the blood on my shirt and my hands. Her nostrils flare and I expect fear. But I always seem to forget that the woman is fearless.
Lifting her gown a little, she sits on the ground gracefully, and taps her thighs softly. “Come here, Kier.” Her voice is soft, but it sounds like an order. One I’m too tired to say no to.
I hesitate, and she flashes me a wolfish grin, displaying her perfect white teeth. "I don't bite."
Something in my chest tightens at the sight of the dimples deepening in her cheeks, and I find myself walking to her anyway. I sit on the ground beside her, dropping the bottle. "Why are you here?"
She turns her gaze to the starless skies. A cold wind lifts her hair and she smiles a little. “I’ll never let you grieve alone again.” She tilts her head, peering deeply into my eyes. “You’re not alone. Lean on me, Kier. Let me put you to sleep.”