Dark Throne, The

by Raven Willow-Wood

  A smile graced his lips at the very idea. Indeed, she would be a pleasure to tup but even more so knowing that he had a woman who had accepted Fade, beastly wings and all. For Calder knew that meant love was between the pair.

  His smile widened into a grin. He grinned so wide that his face ached with it. The idea of taking the love of Fade’s life, his only chance of acceptance pleased him so deeply that there were no words to describe it.

  He sighed, content and came to a decision. Fade would have no idea of his bride’s location. He’d be searching the Jenderian palace first and foremost, before he split out and sent search parties to look into the local village that was close to the palace. Then, when they failed to find her, they’d spread out. Fade would not think that she was here, in the palace that according to Haden law, as foolish as it was, was rightfully his.

  The irony was so delicious, he smiled again.

  He would endure Heather’s grief and let it pass and when her voice managed to wade through her tears, then, they’d wed. Time was, after all, on his side.

  Fade refused to doubt Heather. He refused to even consider that she’d abandoned or left him. He rejected it, because he knew it to be a falsehood. It had to be. His only concern stemmed from the fact that for Heather to be late, for her to not have shown up at the chapel and for her mother to also be absent… well, Fade put two and two together and came up with the only variable- in some part of the castle, his bride and his mother-in-law had come to blows.

  The palace chapel was but a few minutes’ walk away from the chambers they’d been assigned, Fade made it in less than one as he ran to the room which was beside his own and blasted through the door. He didn’t bother to knock, simply rushed in and saw Setta lying on the floor.

  Her body was limp and lax. Fade had seen too much death on the battlefields not to know when someone had passed over.

  His heart stopped in his chest as he scanned the room, searching for his mate. He was both relieved and terrified, when he didn’t see her. It disturbed him that he hadn’t sensed any danger from her quarter. Of late, whenever she’d been as much as depressed or disturbed or even elated by something, he’d known it.

  Where was she?

  She had to be unconscious. Otherwise she would have contacted him, pressed the sleckil to give him a clue as to her location.

  He could pity Setta’s loss of life, feel sorrow for Henrik who had loved his wife, but all of his concentration was on Heather. And until he knew where she was, he was lost.

  Striding over to the security panel, which rested beside the bell pull, Fade sounded the alarm. A piercing noise rent through the entire palace. He sounded it twice more, the inference being that one of the royal family was in danger. Within seconds, armed, chain-mailed guards barricaded the room. A captain strode in, after maneuvering through the doorway with a kirk in one hand and a broadsword in the other, the former raised to shoulder height and the other held at his hips.

  Cancelling the alarm, Fade winced with relief as the noise disappeared and watched as the captain eventually spotted the Queen and sank to his knees.

  “Get up, man.” Fade shouted. “The Princess Royal has disappeared. The Queen is dead, her daughter still lives. I would sense the loss if anything had happened to her.”

  Before the captain could comment, Henrik suddenly burst in. His eyes darted about, as much as Fade’s had. When he spotted his wife’s body on the floor, a low keening sound escaped his throat. It turned into a roar as he rushed over to Setta’s limp form and dragged her upright.

  The armed men, Fade and the captain merely watched on, completely unsure of how to approach the man who was King, as he rocked his wife back and forth, back and forth like a ragged doll.

  The King screeched his fury, his loss at the top of his voice and Fade could well understand. And as selfish as it was, he needed the King and the rest of Jender’s kingdom to deal with the Queen’s death as quickly as possible. They needed their focus to return Heather to the fold.

  The armed men were frightened by the King’s behavior, not afraid, but unsure of how to act. Knowing there would be no help from that quarter, Fade strode forwards and pressed a hand to Henrik’s shoulder. “She’s gone, Henrik. She’s gone and shaking her isn’t going to bring her back. You need to focus, concentrate. Whoever did this, whoever killed your wife, took Heather too.”

  Henrik’s eyes had been almost blinded by grief, but they cleared a fraction as Fade’s words. “Take as many men as you need, as from this moment, you may act in my stead.” His voice hoarse, he yelled, “Let this man lead thee as though it were my tongue making the orders. You see before you your next King.”

  “Henrik, don’t be hasty.”

  “And don’t you be a fool, man. Go. Fade. Go. Find Heather and bring her back to me.”

  That being said, in a broken voice that splintered on every other word, he buried his face in Setta’s hair and began to rock back and forward.

  Knowing that nothing would move the other man, Fade strode off. “We must search the palace grounds and then reach out into the village. Spread out, do what you must, just find Her Royal Highness.”

  Fade realized that that was the only option open to him, for he had to wait for Heather to sound the alarm. Until that occurred, he was roaming in the dark.

  His heart felt as lost as Henrik’s. Only his mind, his battle-hardened mind, kept him going. He knew what to do and until she acted, he had to go through the motions.

  He would not think of loss, he would not think of her in that same wooden state as Setta was now.

  If he did, then he would not be able to function. And he was of no use to her in that kind of stasis.

  ***

  “You bastard.” Heather’s sobs racked her whole body. They were exhausting, shifting her from side to side on the wide bed. But she couldn’t stop them. Her mother had gone and this bastard had taken her from her, for no real reason. He could have grabbed Heather and dragged her out without murdering her mother.

  But no. He’d taken her life and left Heather motherless once again.

  She’d lost three female figures from her life now. She’d been raised by a woman who had loved her, who had taken on the role of mom, because in Heather’s childish mind, she’d lost both her parents. Then May had died and now, Setta again.

  It was too much.

  She couldn’t cope with the idea of it and her body reacted instinctively. Her emotional pain coming to the fore in physical agony.

  “Why?” she raged. Horror and loss bleeding into her words so that her voice was almost unrecognizable.

  “Because I could.”

  The words were soft with malevolence and filled with cruelty. Heather didn’t think she had ever hated anyone or anything as much as she did this son of a bitch. He’d decided to barge into her wedding day, separate her from her mate and then murdered her mother.

  Even as she thought it, she felt surrounded by a surreal reality. One that made no sense. The decades of her life on Earth condensed down into a matter of days, the horror and loss of being an orphan, the struggle, and the fight for survival as anorexia plagued her mind and battered her body, the constant seeking for money to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world… She’d endured the bullying of high school, fought her way through college only to lose the only thing connecting her to the ground – her aunt. It had all been a mini-war, everyday a fucking battle leading her towards this so-called easy existence, where she was a princess.

  It was like something out of a kid’s movie. A bad one. Because this life wasn’t easy and she wasn’t living her happy ever after, because it wasn’t cushy. Princesses still suffered and she was tired of suffering. Tired of being battered by life. It wasn’t fucking fair.

  She’d had enough.

  Her eyes were swollen and hiccupping sobs still raged along her throat, tearing it and making her feel ravaged by her emotions. She sat up, her limbs wobbly and she peered through the gloom of the room she as
sumed was her holding cell.

  She lay on the bed, which was scented of something that reminded her of lavender, but was probably called something completely different here. The sheets, upon every slight movement of hers, wafted that faint scent. The bed was positioned on a raised dais. It was large and took up a lot of space. There was a small walking area around it and there were carved wooden railings directly opposite her which led to a short staircase and to the ground floor of the room.

  Here, there were cauldrons, pitch black, gleaming cauldrons with bubbling contents that reminded her of Halloween flicks with witches boiling eye of newt to make potions and concoctions to curse entire towns. There were five in all. The central one was huge, almost as large as herself and the other four were smaller, two medium and two small. She couldn’t see the heating source that fuelled them, but she could feel the heat. What with her barrage of tears and the warmth emitted from the cauldron, she was hot and sweaty, her hair clung to her face and the nape of her neck.

  There were bodies wriggling on the floor, each tied up with rope. Moans came from their throat, not only were they in an uncomfortable position, the heat alone must have been torture.

  Beside the cauldrons were a set of shelves, each containing pots and jars with peculiarly colored contents and from the stench of the room, she didn’t want to know what those contents were either.

  Books lined the walls. Old books. In leather, in varying stages of condition. From battered to pristine.

  On the back wall, there was a worktable laden with more books and parchment. Her captor had his back to the table and was sat on a chair, his feet rested upon one of the poor bastards lying on the floor.

  There was a handsomeness to his features, but age and bad living had ravaged his skin and added to his years. It seemed only right that such evil should write itself upon the man’s face.

  “Because you could?” Heather repeated the words softly and let them penetrate her mind, her very soul. She’d been mugged, faced the wrath of thieves and yet, she’d never come face to face with such cruelty. With such easy vindictiveness.

  She wanted to kill him and Heather would. Just as he’d snuffed the life out of her mother’s veins, she’d do the same to him. She vowed it. If she could, she would have sliced a knife across her palm and made a blood oath. This man’s life was hers. And if she had it her way, he wouldn’t be living past the day.

  He didn’t know with whom he was dealing. He thought she was some pampered princess, who’d had help with bathing herself, who needed attendants to guide her through every stage of existence.

  But she wasn’t that pampered miss. She was tough, street smart. Whatever plans he had for her, they wouldn’t be coming to fruition.

  Rage battered her, drowning her grief and need to mourn. It filled her to bursting so much so that her skin felt tight with it. Her body itched with the need to release her wrath upon the man.

  She’d never wanted to harm another human being. She’d defended herself in the past, had reacted to another person’s actions and felt no guilt. But this was more than self-defense. This was revenge.

  “What do you want with me?” she murmured softly, wanting to know why the man had come into her world and thought nothing of destroying it.

  “You are to be my wife.”

  The arrogance of the man astonished her. She blinked at him for a second and had to withhold her laughter. She wasn’t amused, just astounded at his audacity.

  “And is murdering your wife-to-be’s mother the way you usually court women?” she asked, her voice chillier than ice. Hell, it was the coldest thing in the entire room.

  “I don’t need to court you. If you can talk as coherently as this, enough to question me, then you’re ready for the ceremony.”

  “I doubt I’d ever be ready to tie myself to a freak like you,” she spat. “Why do you wish to wed me? Let me guess, because I’m the heiress to the throne. And I thought gold-diggers were an Earth concept.” She shook her head and smiled at his confusion over her terminology. “A gold-digger is someone who seeks material gain as the primary goal from a relationship. I’d say you fit that bill to a goddamn tee.”

  She smiled and raised a hand. If she could recall Fade’s words, then as soon as she triggered the sleckil, a noise would blast out that would incapacitate anyone in the vicinity.

  Fingering the ruby, Heather watched as the bastard’s eyes grew tempestuous as they followed the movement of her hand. He obviously thought she was fondling herself.

  As if.

  He stood and she waited for him to approach her, as he took her actions to be that of an enticement. The sleckil’s location between her breasts must have made him think she was touching her breasts and who was she to sway him from that opinion?

  As soon as he was within a foot of her, his legs brushing the side of the bed, she depressed the button. And found great glee in doing so.

  The sound was worse than she thought. It was strange, like nothing she’d ever heard but her brain could handle the sounds, whereas her captor and his captives on the floor obviously couldn’t. The screams they all emitted added a tandem to the sound of the sleckil. She watched on as they all reacted to the sleckil and she took great pleasure in Calder’s horror at the sound piercing his skull.

  A part of her didn’t want it to be so easy. He slumped to the ground and she assumed he was unconscious. She wanted him to realize it was she who had taken his life. Because she could, just as he’d taken that of her mother’s.

  She wanted him to suffer as his life bled from him. She wanted him to hurt.

  At the same time, there had been no other way for her to fell him. Her grief had made itself known in her shaking limbs and she felt weak from her sobbing. Strong enough to kill him, but not strong enough to fight him for supremacy.

  Her legs wobbled as she climbed off the bed and stood beside it, feeling dazed and weak. She clung to the sides as she walked around it and then wandered around the room trying to find a suitable weapon to end that sorry bastard’s existence.

  On one of the shelves, she saw a familiar marking on one of the bottles and almost as though fate had ordained it, beside it was a dagger with a leather hilt and feathers suspended from the binding. The marking was a skull and crossbones. Now, this man could have been a pirate, but she doubted it. She assumed that the contents of the pot would or could induce death. Just the ticket for what Heather intended.

  Her hands shook as she reached for the pot and carefully unfastened it. Taking the dagger, she dipped the tip into the bright orange concoction that perversely smelt of marmalade, something Aunt May had been very fond of.

  Careful not to let the potion touch her skin, she retracted the dagger from the jar and stalked over to Calder’s limp form. Her threatening pose was weakened by her staggering steps, but no one in the room was to know that she felt close to collapse.

  She wondered if the sleckil had affected her, because her bout of crying had weakened her but not to this extent. Her still evolving body had protected her from the damaging sounds of the sleckil but the parts of her that were fully Elfen must have reacted and because of it, she felt as flimsy as hell.

  Heather thought that only her rage, her sheer fury kept her going towards Calder. And she was absolutely thrilled to see that the man’s eyes were open and that he was staring straight ahead- obviously a prisoner in his own body. Somehow, that gave her more energy. She clambered down to the floor beside him, the knife clutched in her hand and smiled as she raised the dagger and hovered it over his heart.

  “I was never all that good at human biology. Physics, yeah, I understood that, but if I miss your heart that nasty concoction I just dipped the blade into will make sure you die. And I hope it’s horrible, you bastard. You killing, murdering bastard.”

  Tears littered her eyes and rained down her cheeks as she urged her arm upwards and then plunged it down.

  As the knife tore flesh away from flesh, she gasped. Her stomach contents making themse
lves known as she actively ended someone’s life. Blood gushed from the wound and out of Calder’s nose and mouth as she forced all of her waning strength into her arm and continued to press down into the wound.

  It was harder than she’d thought it would be. The movies made everything look easy and her arm was aching with the strength required to plunge through muscle and blood vessels and tissue and flesh. Her aim wasn’t true and she hit bone, she angled the knife and forced the blade between his ribs so that the knife pierced both sides of his body and while she felt sick, she was glad the man was awake to experience this.

  When the knife was buried to the hilt, she realized she was covered in blood. This time, she was sick. She threw up beside the dying man’s corpse and clambered away before anymore of his bodily fluids could touch her.

  The taking of a life was a huge deal but Heather didn’t have it in her to feel remorse, not after what he’d done to her mother. And for him to have murdered her so easily, Setta wasn’t the first.

  She had her revenge, but it didn’t bring her mother back to life.

  More tears flooded her eyes and she slumped, her back half resting against the bed and half curved over so that her chin was almost touching her chest. She knew she had options now that bastard was dead. It had been so easy, so easy to liberate herself from this man’s clutches. While she knew she had choices to make, she wasn’t sure what they were. Her brain refused to function, even her thoughts were sluggish.

  She sucked in a breath and the cooling essence of the lavender from the sheets filled her nostrils. Somehow, it cleared the lethargy a way. Just a tad, so that she could think about her next plan of action.

  She didn’t want to look at the now-dead Calder, whose eyes were open and were dimmed with pain even in death. But she let her eyes glance off his ears. They were Elfen. She knew from Fade that hoonans shared this realm with the Elfen and that there were often disputes between the two factions.

  At least she knew she was in Elfen territory and not hoonan, who were an apparently blood-thirsty lot.