“What are you doing?” Klara asked, folding her arms.
“Giving you answers in half the time,” he said, and Klara heard the shuffle of removing fabric.
“I was a living breathing reminder of you. The King would never have let me leave. Don’t you think I tried?”
Klara kept her back to him, afraid of what she was about to see. Afraid of how she would react to him.
“Look at me!” It was an order, and Klara hesitated.
“Turn around,” Frendall said softly. Klara tried not to stare at his defined chest, from hours of training and labour.
“I don’t get it,” she said, moving closer. There wasn’t a single mark, and then it was his turn to turn around. There was nothing but perfect flesh and then she saw the faint glow, he was too perfect. The faint shimmer of his skin told her of the glamour.
After years of fighting and training, he should have countless scars or burns if not both. Klara certainly did and most were inflicted by Lilith and Lesser Demons who got carried away during sparring sessions. Klara’s mind drifted to the worst. Sensing her approach and his back rippled as he moved.
“Touch me.”
Klara sensed Frendall’s fear as she pre ssed her hand to his back. Klara couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. The glamour slipped away, revealing the pitchfork branded to the length of his back. Her fingers ran over each spike, moving from shoulder to shoulder. “I tried to escape, to get away from the King’s grief and cruelty after you were sent to the Queens.”
The longest spike ended at the base of his neck. Klara’s throat grew dry at the thought of the once ever-smiling boy enduring hours of torment.
Frendall took his shirt from the bed, “I thought I could find you, so I used a portrait to try and get to you.”
“The fork was your punishment,” Klara said as her fingers grazed his back and she could hear his young screams within her.
Frendall faced her and she dropped her hand. “The King put me in my place.”
“We were kids. He shouldn’t have...” Klara paced back and forth, his screams and the scent of burning flesh moved through her. “He tortured you and banished me to the Queens.”
“The uprising needed to be extinguished. You were safer away from here.”
“Safe? Abadan locked me in the dungeon for the first year. Starved me while Lilith trained me until my bones broke.”
Klara tried to stop the tears from filling her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“You think they deserve loyalty? He sent me away because he wanted me to suffer. A broken Heir is no Heir.” Klara’s bones shook with rage.
“You think he wants rid of you? Grow up.” Frendall grinned, and Klara bumped into the dresser as he came towards her. “I have seen what the King does to those he hates, and it’s nothing compared to merely shaving your head or rough training.”
Klara hated his shaming tone, “Grow up? As if you are any better, Father tortured you and then gave you a promotion. All hail the Commander,” she said, pointing to the symbol on his cheek. Frendall buttoned his shirt and jacket, “The King didn’t give me anything. I earned my place among the Commanders. What have you done to earn your place as Heir?”
“Nothing, I have done nothing, and until he puts me on the throne, I will do what I please. You think he won’t ever turn on you? Those marks on your back are only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Thank you for the concern, but I don’t need it,” Frendall stood over her, and Klara shoved him back with ease. He wasn’t going to intimidate her.
“I don’t pity you. I feel nothing for you,” Klara said.
“Well, we both know that’s not true,” he winked, picking up the emerald gown.
She clenched her jaw as he studied the corset.
“If I refuse?”
Frendall tossed her the gown, “This is why you need to follow the rules. You show too much of yourself. One day the wrong person will see that fiery temper of yours and extinguish it.”
“Is that a challenge?” Klara asked. They studied each other, neither making the first move. Klara wasn’t sure in her weakened state if she could take him. Frendall opened the bedroom door, “Are you getting changed?” He asked, growing impatient. “Or am I going to have to stay and force you?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Think I want to be late and suffer Lucifer’s wrath?”
“Out,” Klara barked, but before Frendall closed the door, she couldn’t stop herself.
“I’m sorry my Father hurt you,” the words spilt out as his screams lingered within her.
“I know my place now, do you?” Frendall smiled for a split second and closed the door. Her mind drifted to their last day together as they had run through the winding Maze of Hell.
She shook away the memories, once she was in Kalos Frendall would take her place, and from what she could see, he was almost there anyway.
“Let’s try out this heart, shall we?” Klara said to the Hounds, looking at her ruined clothes and then to the dress, “mutatio.”
A black smock dress took the place of her clothes, and she embraced her bald head. It was one of the simpler enchantments Eve had taught her, but it gave Klara hope for her new heart.
“Happy?” Klara asked, opening the bedroom door, and Frendall shook his head, “determined to stand out.”
“The King does love it when I make a scene,” Klara said, and Frendall led her from the room.
The eerie portraits mounted on the dark navy walls reminded her of the Queens’ Castle. Some were identical to those on the walls of the Castle except these were gateways to other realms and passages within Hell. The tortured soul of Dorian Grey had painted most of them. He might be immortal, but that didn’t stop Father from enslaving him, just like he had Arthur. She hoped Arthur was okay and that the Queens weren’t making his life too miserable back home. The Manor, the Castle neither feel like home.
Frendall paused at the top of the winding staircase, and she bumped into him.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Malum.”
“Desperate to return?”
“Quite the opposite, I’m sure the Queens have starved the Forest into extinction by now.”
“If you want to get away from them, why not come back?”
Klara paused on the stairs. You make it sound easy.
“All the King had to do was snap his fingers, and I would have come back straight through the portraits, the uprising was quashed, and yet I remained in Malum. In a decade, the King called for me how many times, once? twice?” They continued down the staircase, Klara’s hand grazed the smooth railing.
“Lucifer has his pride, and he wouldn’t go back on his orders. Especially not with the Queens involved.”
“Nobody has the power to injure Lucifer’s pride,” Klara said as she spotted the pillars holding up the second floor. The pillars were made up of the sculpted faces of tortured souls. She’d never noticed how creepy they were until one stared directly at her. From the gleam on the faces, they had been polished recently.
“Must be expecting some important guests?” Klara asked as the Manor shone.
“Don’t change the subject,” Frendall glared. “On your last visit, you wounded him deeply. Can’t have expected to be greeted warmly after causing such a scene.”
“So, I’m to blame.”
Frendall stopped at the last step and spun, so they were face to face as a few steps boosted her height. “You didn’t exactly act like you wanted to stay. You were out the portrait before the sword was raised.” Klara moved past him to the foyer.
Frendall’s words were cut off by the faint howls below them and Klara forgot how close they were to the dungeons. “The King asked me to return to watch him slaughter those who wished to claim his throne. Why would I want to see that?”
Klara kept up with him as Frendall strode towards the right-wing of the Manor, their path lit by the expansive ivy lined windows.<
br />
“To show you that the threat against you is real.”
“From those screams, my Father still favours the right wing for entertaining? That way everyone can hear the threat is real while they eat and drink and not because he derives pleasure from the Torturers getting carried away.”
“The King was showing you his support,” Frendall continued ignoring the distant screams.
“Ten? Twenty?”
Frendall raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry, simply counting the number of times you have defended my Father since I arrived.”
The branding must have brainwashed him as well as scarred him.
“There are real threats out there if you were here you would know that, the King was trying to warn you and those who dared harm you.”
“No, it was a show of brute strength to those who want to see me or anyone else on the throne.”
They stopped walking as two Guards passed by, their uniforms similar to the all-black suit Frendall was wearing. Klara moved closer to him, making sure her words were out of earshot of the walls that liked to listen.
“I have been a threat since I was created; he created the very thing he fears most. Someone to take his place. Do you want my throne? Take it because I sure as Hell don’t.”
Frendall pulled Klara back to his side before she reached the doors. Klara felt the extra eyes on them as their argument awoke the portraits.
“Remove your hand or you will lose it,” Klara threatened, and he released his tight grasp.
“Are you entertained?” Klara said, looking to the portraits’ prying eyes. Frendall followed her closely, his voice quiet as not to stir gossip.
“The King is flawed, but he does care for you, and he isn’t the only one.”
The Doomed waiting at the doors announced their arrival to the room. By the stark look on the guests’ faces, they were late.
◆◆◆
Frendall and Klara were greeted by a long table full of guests in finery, and Klara felt woefully underdressed.
Frendall smirked beside her, “I told you to wear the dress,” and offered her his arm. To decline would stir gossip, so Klara slipped her arm through his. The mouths of a few Higher Demons gaped open as she stood holding Frendall’s arm. Klara could see the fear in their passing thoughts because together they were a force to be reckoned with.
“You’re late.” The King sat at the head of the never-ending table. Despite the two large fireplaces sat at either end of the hall, and the three chandeliers hung from the glass ceiling the room was still dimly lit. When Frendall had mentioned guests, she had thought maybe one or two of her Father’s most trusted, not a banquet. She was still regaining her strength, and it would take the force of an army to handle a room of Hell’s Finest.
They moved towards the silent table and bowed to the King, his chair taller than the rest, the top, marked with his signature three spikes.
“Join us, we have missed you dearly,” Lucifer said, ignoring their late arrival and there is a small round of applause as Klara scanned the table. There was enough food to feed an army. Frendall pulled out Klara’s seat to the right hand of her Father, “It’s a pleasure to see you return home,” a Higher Demon said, and Klara offered a polite smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”
The cascading maroon curtains had been strung back from the floor to ceiling window behind Frendall. From this height, Klara could barely make out the shifting passages of the Maze below.
Lucifer’s supporters and council talked amongst themselves. At the end of the table sat the Higher Demons, then some Elder Creatures followed by a select few Lucifer trusted that Klara didn’t recognize until finally, she looked to Frendall at the King’s left hand.
~6~
A hand went over Klara's and she looked to the offending guest beside her. She recognized the purple-haired girl but couldn't place her name. "How long are you to remain Heiress?" Purple Hair asked, and Klara looked at her empty plate.
"Not long and call me Klara," she said, and the girl about Klara's age looked to the King for permission. Klara studied her Father's reaction as he nodded. Who was she? Another mistress? Klara looked at her bright smile. No too young, and yet Purple Hair held a high enough position to ask Klara such a bold question without so much as an introduction. "What a pity! Hopefully, you will change your mind and stay awhile?"
"I'm afraid my duties in Malum will make this a quick trip," Klara replied, and Lucifer raised his glass, and his guests followed suit. "Still it must be nice to be home," Purple Hair continued, and there is a muttering of agreement amongst the guests.
"Yes, I have longed to return to my Father's side after such a long parting."
"To your daughter's return." A Higher Demon in a silk suit cheered, and agreement echoed around the room.
"Let us enjoy the feast the King has prepared," Klara bowed her head politely as their yellow eyes lingered on her for longer than she would have liked.
With allies and enemies at one table, Klara couldn't tell which was which as they were all disguised in elegant dress, but Klara could sense the sharp claws. She wondered who would be the next to order an assassination attempt. Or, who was reporting this very exchange to the Queens back in Malum.
With Hell's red sun beaming in on them, she knew it would be the Queens feeding time. She looked at the lobsters still in their shells in front of her and figured they are probably gorging themselves on a feast as immense as this one. Klara took a few mouthfuls as Purple Hair drifted into conversation with the Higher Demon beside her.
Klara glanced at Frendall, who seemed deep in private conversation as her Father leaned in closer to hear his Commander.
"Have I missed something?" Klara interrupted, and the discussions throughout the table halted, and the sound of cutlery hitting the plates vibrated around her. Klara hadn't meant for the whole table to hear her interrupt the King's conversation.
The King cleared his throat and stared at his guests. The deafening silence is only broken up by the crackle of the roaring fireplaces and the dull scream of the tortured souls below them. The silence restarted the guests' appetite as all became fascinated by the feast in front of them.
"Well," the King started, pushing his plate away slightly and Frendall refused to meet Klara's eye. There was a glint in his eye that unsettled her.
This can't be good.
"While you were settling in," Lucifer paused to wipe his lips with a napkin. Klara suppressed a smile, what an excellent way to phrase Passed Out.
"I've had time to think about our current situation."
Klara held her breath as he spoke.
"Abadan agrees that maybe it is time for you to return home to the Manor."
Klara dropped her spoon and watched it sink into the slimy green pool of liquid. Abadan, He had talked to Abadan, and she agreed to let me leave.
"I don't know…" Klara froze, searching for the right words. If Abadan doesn't have me in her clutches, how would she garner the King's attention? Maybe Abadan wants me dead sooner rather than later.
"I did not know the High Queen felt this way," Klara said. It was undoubtedly easier for Klara's enemies to reach her in Hell than it was in Malum since Demons, Creatures and Doomed come and go as they please. "We have been discussing it at length since Lilith has signed off on your training. I see no reason why you should remain in Malum until it is your time to take over."
Klara's enemies rarely bothered venturing to the Forest of Malum. Gaining access to the Queen's Castle was near impossible unless they were paid extremely well and had a map. Returning Klara to Hell was a much more effective way for Abadan to rid herself of her ward without self-incrimination. Frendall frowned at Klara, as she went silent.
"Don't you think this decision is a little rash, I mean I still have so much to learn, and there are threats in Malum I want to address." The flames from the fires caused sweat to bead on the back of her neck.
"Abadan is proud of how much you have excelled. Told me how
proud she is that you were able to free the Forest of the Ghouls by yourself. I'm sure you can handle any threat that comes your way here…"
"And got my heart ripped out in the process," her raised voice gained the attention of the other guests. Klara smiled faintly and sat back in her chair. The King's glare forced them to return to their supper.
"I will always have a spare heart lying around," Lucifer laughed as meat juice dripped down his pointed chin. "Frendall has agreed to help sharpen your skills. It's been a generation since Lilith last battled so he will teach you the latest tactics."
Klara glared at Frendall as he winked, taking a bite of whatever Creature was on his plate. Distracted by Frendall's arrogance, she only caught the last part of her Father's sentence, "and then it will be your turn to rule."
The King caught the attention of the entire table. However, the guests snapped quickly back to their private conversations. If they were seen to be eavesdropping, her Father's paranoia would send them all to the Torturers below. Klara couldn't blame them for listening. The King wasn't quiet about the matter.
Rule. He can't mean it. He would never give up the throne. This must be a test. Klara clenched her hands under the table. The King spoke as if he wanted to leave his Kingdom for good. She studied his expression, but there was no laughter in his eyes. The King was serious.
I went to the Beanstalk to get away, not to seal my fate.
"You want to step down. Why?" She asked, trying to sound like a concerned daughter. What of the Queens? She wanted to ask, to take Malum from them would risk my life but to give me Hell would ensure war.
"I'll remain in the wings for a time as you watch over Malum, but it's been a few centuries since I have ventured into the Human World and I miss their sweet frivolity. I have a hunger to shake things up again. My council will always be available to you, should you need guidance." Mischief filled her Father’s eyes. There was nothing he loved more than messing with God's precious Humans.
"Another war?" Frendall asked, picking at his plate. "Overdone. The Humans create their own so often it doesn't have the same delicious stench. I'm sure it will come to me," Lucifer rubbed his hands together in delight, and Klara glared at Frendall for provoking such a thought. War on the Human plane created chaos in Hell. Souls come fast and hard during wartime. As it stands, it was a miracle the system didn't collapse, and that the Ferrier didn't fall into the River from exhaustion.
Crowned A Traitor: A Hellish Fairytale Page 7
