4. The Siege
4
THE SIEGE
S creams .
Loud, wailing screams.
Her eyes shot open. At first, Luella thought it was just a dream, that she was still deep inside her mind and not awake in reality.
A sharp stinging radiated from her neck, as her eyes focused on the dark room, she could make out a hulking shadow looming above her. Her head tilted back, and she felt the sharp point of a dagger dig further into her throat.
Fear froze her.
What was happening?
"You’re awake," the voice said. It was a male.
Luella tried to move backward as panic filled her lungs.
The male tsked. "I wouldn’t move if I were you. I was told to take you as a prisoner, but I’m sure he would understand if I’m driven to kill you if you act out and give me trouble."
"W-who are you?" Luella couldn’t stop herself from stuttering with terror.
Her teeth rattled, the dagger cutting into her neck as she felt the warm slide of hot liquid pool into the dip of her collarbone.
The male had cut her.
Screams from the halls outside sounded, their intensity unrelenting. A cacophony of yells that echoed in tune with grizzly laughter. The noises were sick and villainous. Faintly, Luella heard one cry stand out over the others. A voice that sounded slightly familiar to her. Her lady’s maid. Luella didn’t even know her name, and she was most likely being killed or… worse .
Her screams seemed like death cries to Luella’s ringing ears.
She wanted it all to stop.
This had to be a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare. She was still sleeping, that was it. It had to be. There’s no way this was really happening. Was there?
The shadow leaned over Luella, one knee pressed against the mattress, causing it to dip under his heavy weight. She leaned to the side, into him, and as his large body settled on the mattress, her bare leg was forced into touching his knee. The armor he wore felt stiff and unrelenting.
Leather.
The leather weaves that the army of Serpentis wear.
As allies of Medius, Serpentis and Nix used breastplates and fighting leathers, supplied to them by the craftsmen of Medius. The fae favored iron and metal suits of arms. Materials that were easily found in the mountains and quarries of each kingdom.
So, to feel leather armor in the midst of what appeared to be a siege could mean nothing other than Serpentis had attacked sooner than her father had anticipated. The scouts he had corresponded with could have been compromised, sharing falsified information to have the King’s focus distracted, leaving Solis vulnerable and open to a surprise attack.
Luella felt her face drain of color, her attention on the singular focal point where her bare thigh touched the male’s armored one. The dagger eased up ever so slightly. Imperceptibly, as if he didn’t mean to grant her the reprieve she so desperately desired.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice was too breathy and soft, even to her own ears, and she watched as the glint of teeth was revealed in the male’s face as he smiled at the fear in her voice. She sounded like a prisoner facing the gallows, resigned yet frightened to the marrow of her bones.
He traced the dagger down to her collarbone. No doubt chasing after the blood dripping. He caught it with the tip of the silver blade, placing a rough, gloved hand against her sternum as he released the dagger where it was poised over her. The male brought the blade to his face, scrutinizing the crimson drop that beaded along the silver tip.
"Don’t play dumb, Princess ," the male sneered the title in mock respect. "You know what I want." He closed his eyes as he deeply inhaled the scent of her blood on the dagger. "Steel and iron." He breathed in raggedly, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated to where his hand was pressed against her chest.
"Please," she begged, voice thin with fear. She would have thought he hadn’t heard it if not for the satisfied pleasure on his shadowed face.
"Beg some more," the male leaned down to whisper harshly over Luella’s face. He smelled like freshly fallen snow, crisp and wintery, and that shouldn’t be so tempting… But it was. She breathed in, drawn to the alluring dangerousness of this male.
Luella squeezed her eyes shut. She did know what he wanted; she just didn’t want to admit it aloud.
It felt like she was still stuck in her dreams—a nightmare.
"The Solis fae have an artillery at their disposal. You don’t want to do this." She attempted to be diplomatic, feeling the years of her teachings coming to the surface. None of their teachings included how to reason with a deranged beast of a male who was threatening to kill you.
He chuckled, shifting his hand up to cup the base of her neck in a threat. He could snap the bones there with a mere twist of his large hand, and she would know no more. That quick.
She was utterly helpless.
"I don’t want to do this?" he taunted. "No, you’re wrong. I very much want to do this." He angled the dagger back against her neck, roughly grabbing her bare upper arm.
His grip was so tight that she winced. His fingers completely enclosed her arm. The male could ruin her with a single touch.
Luella was pulled away from the bed, the sheets falling away from where they were wrapped so tightly around her. Now standing, the male towered over her. She looked up, her head barely brushing his muscled chest.
"Come," the male growled.
He pulled her forward into his body. Through the haze of her shock, she was dimly aware of how scantly clad she was dressed. The nightgown barely covered anything; Luella might as well have been nude.
She roughly tried to free herself from the male’s vice-like grip, tugging her arm backward in vain. He merely doubled down with his grip. A soft sound of protest was torn from her throat. She wished that she wouldn’t have made such a sound of weakness. Monsterous creatures such as he didn’t deserve to have the satisfaction of hearing her in pain. It would only fuel his ire.
From their location closer to the window, the moonlight illuminated the male’s features, chasing away the jagged edges of darkness that had clouded his visage. His hair was stark white and long; some of the locks were roughly pulled back in braids. Threaded beads of dark copper weaved throughout the braids, and they mingled with the leather thong around his neck, brandishing a medallion embossed with some pattern or crest that she couldn’t quite make out.
The telltale leather armor of the Serpentis and Nix army guarded his hulking frame. Dark pieces of thickly woven materials, concentrated on his chest and lower stomach, with shin guards and tightly wrapped pants, offering flexibility for combat. Twin longswords crossed over his back. The handles stuck out invitingly; their sheaths golden.
His appearance couldn’t be more at odds with hers.
He looked the part of a roughened hunter. Tall and imposing and wicked. And Luella was a mere slip of a female compared to him. An heirus, still.
One of the straps of her nightgown fell down her shoulder, exposing the beginnings of the swell of her chest. Her bare thighs trembled from the rush of night air and adrenaline that flooded throughout her. Where her hair was golden and ears delicately arched, his hair was white, leeched of all color.
She could make out the tip of pointed ears peeking through his braids. That narrows the pool of what he might be. Perhaps a rogue fae, in league with the shifters or humans—or even a mage. As children of demons and fae, mages had the trademark arched ears of their fae ancestry. And the wicked intent of their demon counterpart.
The mages were deadly and known for being more than a little unhinged. With their elemental powers and brute strength, they were unmatched foes. No one wanted a mage as an enemy. And here she stood, with one perhaps looming over her, meaning to do unspeakable things with her.
Was it even worth it to fight? Luella thought.
Death might be better than whatever this male had planned with her.
With the power she could feel emanating off of this male in droves, he was something Luella didn’t want to mess with, this she knew with certainty.
The male freed one of his hands, pushing the hood of his cloak over his head. She watched as he dug into a pack on the side of his hip, pulling free a cloak matching his black one but smaller.
"Be still and quiet. Lest I take your tongue," he commanded.
Luella promptly closed her mouth and stopped any rebuttal that threatened to spill over.
She could wait. She could play his game. For now.
She had to. The alternative was death. Something she had contemplated before, but now that it was staring her in the face, she wanted nothing to do with it.
A constant stream of horror swept through her, growing with every passing moment.
She didn’t want to die…
The male pulled the cloak over Luella, completely covering her body. The end almost touched the floor. He roughly pulled the hood over her head, concealing her identity from anyone who may give her a second glance.
"Still too big," he commented under his breath, like he forgot she was even there. He fussed with the clasp, securing it more snugly with a pin he procured from his pouch.
He shoved her against the stone wall, and even through the thick material of the cloak, Luella could feel it as it raked against her lower back. He kept one of his thick forearms pinned over her chest, securing her tightly with his body weight. The echo of screams was unceasing. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, allowing herself to find a strange sort of solace within the nature of his embrace. The male radiated warmth, and it cascaded over her as she was forced to submit to his authority.
He waited for a beat. Then another. Listening for something unknown to her.
Her ears strained to pick up the sounds that echoed off the walls and bounced within the chasm of the castle. They reverberated up the circular staircase leading to her tower, calling her down to their midst.
She opened her mouth, a question poised on the tip of her tongue. But like he could feel the inhale of breath, signaling the start of words, the male roughly forced a palm over her mouth, leaning into her. Their faces were a mere breath apart. Crisp, icy snow melted against her tongue as she inhaled.
"I said quiet yourself," he seethed.
Luella gulped under the weight of his attention. Her eyes shifted from his ice-blue gaze, unable to hold it for long. "If you value your limbs, follow me. I have no qualms about cutting a finger off to keep you pliant. Pain has that effect. After the screams subside, of course, but I brought a bit for a reason."
And with that, Luella fell utterly quiet. No more questions or even attempts to wince aloud. The male meant the threat. She could tell it in his wild gaze. His eyes were like none she had ever seen before. Brimming with violence. It was a different sort than the kind held in her father’s golden eyes—where her father was passive and calculating, the beast that stood before her held a stare promising profane acts, an unnatural sort of cruelty. They roved over her cloak-laden form, taking in the way her shoulders bunched up close to her ears and her eyes shuttered in the beginnings of a full-bodied recoil.
She still had enough wits about her, in this fear-addled state, to wonder about her parent’s safety.
Luella always knew she was at risk for harm, as the sole Princess of Solis, with her only purpose to be wed and used as royal breeding stock, it would be wise, from an adversary’s perspective, to get rid of her or use her as a means of barter in this treacherous war.
It didn’t mean she had to resign herself to this fate. She would follow this male’s command and bide her time for escape.
He took the lead as he started for the stairs. His grip was an ever-present force against her upper arm. A finger reached out to press against her lip in one last warning, right before he creaked open the wooden door leading down below to the main halls of the castle. The screams grew louder. An incessant buzzing of death rattled breathing and pleas for mercy.
Her eyes tracked over the walls, a few errant splatters of blood painting the stone. It was hard to tell the exact shade in the dim light of the corridor, but it was unmistakable from the tang of iron that permeated the air like a heavy cloud of violence.
Luella’s bare feet slipped against something wet. Blood.
She almost tumbled into the male but stopped herself with a hand against his lower back. The muscles were firm under her palm. A true warrior’s physique.
As they descended further, she took note that all the sconces lining the walls had been extinguished. No light to be seen in this darkened hallway. Her eyes strained, shapes jumping out at her from the darkened recess. Shadows played with her fear. Every step taken was one of trepidation.
"Help me! Please ."
The words echoed to Luella’s ears as they reached the bottom of the steps. The voice was feminine—high and strained, as if a last pleading call into oblivion.
A grand door stood before them, and Luella craned her head to see over the male’s broad shoulders. He waited, hands poised over the swirled, levered handles attached to the door.
A wet thud echoed, synonymous with a crackle of deep laughter and a cut-off cry. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears as her breath stuttered. Blood welled from the center of her lip with how hard she was biting down in an attempt to stifle a twin cry, mourning the life she knew was lost. The iron tang of blood grounded her.
Icy eyes glinted as the predator before her turned, tucking her head closer into the expanse of his chest. The male’s arm brushed the crown of her hood, pulling it tighter over her head, as he fiddled with his own cloak, pulling his dark hood over his hair, obscuring the white, braided hair that would act as a beacon in the darkly shadowed halls.
They both appeared as wraiths, skeletal figures who lurked in the shadows of the feared Silva Noctis, cloaked in darkness with dripping maws of jagged teeth. You didn’t know they were upon you until it was too late.
And this stranger was as deadly as a wraith as he prowled the halls. With his bulging muscles and hardened figure, she knew he would be the victor in a fight.
This is what they were up against—they never even stood a chance…
The door groaned loudly as it creaked open. The hunter crept forward, urging Luella onward with his unyielding grip. Keeping her head tucked firmly into his chest, he shielded her eyes from the sights around, as one arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other brandishing one of the longswords on his back.
And just like that, Luella was led onward to her fate.
From the corners of her eyes, she saw a female in a rumpled, bloodied dress splayed on the ground. The hem of her dress was hiked up around her thighs, bloodied hands imprinted like tattoos on her skin.
Luella grew ill at the sight, nausea roiling her in her gut. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the urge to expel her meager dinner—and wine—Luella pressed her nose into the male’s chest, breathing in his refreshing snowy scent to ward off the fetid death that permeated the halls.
The female must have been an heirus—through the shadows, Luella saw a face softened with youth. Her eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing. She was gone. Her soul somewhere… other.
Luella sent up a quick prayer to the gods. Perhaps the female will be welcomed warmly into the realm beyond with a maternal, comforting embrace.
Black tangles of hair fell around her neck, bent at an odd angle. Blood pooled from the female’s mouth, and Luella could see white bone poking through her broken neck. Luella whimpered at the sight.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She pressed her face into her captor’s chest, allowing him to lead her, stumbling after him, barely holding herself up under the crushing weight of grief and horror that clung to her like shadows. She felt a rumble under her cheek as if warning her away. Or urging her closer to him.
Still, Luella did not speak.
Silence came easy to her. As did the obedience. She spent her life tucked away and forced into compliance, after all.
A commotion down the hall sounded out, disrupting them from their quiet trek.
The hem of the male’s hood brushed hers as he leaned down closer to her face. Blue eyes like the purest of ice pierced her as he warned, "Stay." Violence tinged his words.
Luella nodded, eyes wide. He released her with reluctance, switching his weapon to grasp it with two hands. The blade glinted in the darkness.
The male started toward the sound of the noises; a song of clashing swords and ordered yells of soldiers.
With his attention diverted, Luella slowly backed up.
One step. Two. He didn’t notice her slowly slipping away. She froze, waiting for him to turn and direct the sword at her chest in retribution for her disobeying his order to stay. Or even follow through with his promise to cut off her fingers or cut out her tongue to silence her.
But his focus was unwaveringly trained ahead of him.
Was it time to make her escape? She could find her parents. They could flee with their lives.
She waited with a trembling breath, legs quivering as she steeled herself. The male rounded the corner, and right before she lost sight of him, Luella chanced it.
A deep breath.
Spinning around before she could talk herself out of it, the soles of her bare feet hurriedly padded against the stone flooring, which quickly turned into marble as she entered the grand halls of the main entryway. The wind from her pace tangled her golden hair and blew back the sides of her cloak.
Heavy footfalls pounded behind her.
He was close.
But where the hunter was all brute strength and lethal force, Luella was lithe and coy. Her movements were precise. His, thundering and uncouth. For all his might as predator, she was the prey. Sometimes, there were advantages to being prey—to being small and wily.
Luella ducked down into a corridor. A small passage that led under the stairs to the network of mazes the serving staff used to go from one room to the next.
Her chest heaved in exertion, but she forced herself silent with a hand pressed harshly against her mouth. Eyes closed tightly, and head tilted back to press against the wall, she waited for the sound of the male’s footfalls to pass her little nook, signaling she was in the clear.
Please, please, please, she begged.
She froze completely as she felt the quiet thrum with a presence. The male stopped right near where she was tucked inside the passage. She didn’t want to back further up and risk alerting him with the movements, so she held her breath.
"Come out, come out, little Princess. It’s not too late to come to me without punishment." The male was so close to her that she could almost reach out and touch the vibrations in the air from his angrily whispered words. "But the offer won’t last for long." The taunt trailed off as he moved on, searching for her with fervor.
Held breath escaped her in a softly whistled whoosh .
Luella debated her next move, measuring the weight of staying put versus moving. Fear voiced an opinion of hunkering down onto the floor and giving up completely. But her soul screamed for vengeance, thinking of the herius, left to rot on the castle’s floor. And the many others she did not see.
Her teeth ached from the force in which she clenched her jaw.
For those who had their choices ripped from them, Luella would fight. Because they could not, she shall.
Pulling the hood back on her head, her features were once more concealed.
Just as she used to dance over the ruins and play a pretend game of chase with her shadow, she now played a much more dangerous game. One of predator and prey. Hunter and hunted. Strong and meek.
In a mirror of her past, she lithely stalked across the rough-hewn stone. This time, not a memory of what once was a grand structure, her feet danced over the glory of the current monarchy.
She slipped out of her hiding spot and ghosted past a fluttering tapestry displayed proudly in the entryway to the castle. Two curved staircases led to either wing. The foyer in which she stood was littered with bodies, blood congealing on the floor. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Passing by servants and soldiers alike.
It had become too quiet in the castle. The sounds of war and battle cries had died down, just as the souls who fought to protect this place and the innocents who were caught in the crossfire.
Luella was only an heirus, untrained in the art of battle. As much as she wished to seek revenge, she knew she could not. Not without giving her life in forfeit. She resigned herself to flee and search for survivors along the way.
Hope bloomed in her chest as she remembered that the boat could still be at the docks in just a few short hours, leading to Syreni.
The plan formed in her mind, giving her purpose: get to the docks and lay in wait until the ship arrived.
The moon grew lower and lower in the sky, as it was only a little while longer to the golden safety of morning. If Luella escaped, she could seek aid and get the ship’s crew to send word to her father’s scouts. There must be a plan in place for situations such as this. A coded message or keyword to alert them to what had happened.
With renewed hope fueling her, she altered her direction, now heading straight to the double doors leading to the gardens outside.
Maybe if Luella had been more cautious, she would have heard it. Or sensed it… If she wasn’t so overcome with fleeting hope, it could have turned out differently.
Before she had a chance to react, a hand was roughly placed on her shoulder, tugging the hood of the cloak back so harshly that she felt some of her hair rip free from her scalp from the force.
Luella let out a strangled yelp.
"Well, look at what we have here. We caught ourselves a princess, boys."
Her eyes landed on three males, all ragged and blood-soaked, with the leather armor of the enemy wrapping their lethal frames.
She stumbled back, hands closing around the air as she desperately wished for a dagger of some sort. Never mind that she couldn’t wield one if her life depended on it—which it did.
One of the males licked his lips, brushing a rough hand down his scraggly beard. His ears were rounded, but she caught a glimpse of wildness in his dark eyes.
He growled, "You don’t think the King would mind if we broke her in, do you?"
They all laughed, and her heart pumped furiously in her chest.
"Stay away from me," Luella commanded, but her voice shook, giving away the fright that gripped her.
"Oh, look," the one who caught her remarked. The male had red hair and a jagged scar that cut through his eye and up to his temple, leaving a mottled appearance in his pupil. "It speaks."
Her hands shook as the males surrounded her. Prowling closer and closer, closing in on each side. One at her back and two at each side.
Her eyes darted around the room, flitting across a few soldiers on the ground. A wicked, curved dagger lay haphazardly near the staircase. The blade was coated in thick, dark blood. It was deadly. If Luella could reach it, she might survive this.
One of the males followed where her eyes landed, a challenge sparking in the air as his lips curved up into a grin that was just as wicked and deadly as the dagger. "Fuck, I wanted a fight." A meaty hand reached down to… adjust his crotch, and Luella grimaced as the male groaned low. "It’s always better when they fight back. It makes everything so much sweeter." Each word was punctuated by the slow steps of the male.
Luella shook, fingers flexing as she eyed the dagger.
It was either take a chance nabbing the blade or risk being at the mercy of these males. Either way, she was vulnerable.
"She’s mine." The red-haired male licked his lips, and with that, he lunged, jumping for Luella like a wild beast.
She dove for the blade, but it was no use. Kicking and screaming, she landed a weak punch between the male’s legs, scampering on her hands and knees for the blade.
He bent over with a groan, staring at her from a hunched-over position. "You’re dead," he seethed. "I don’t care what the King has to say."
Still scrambling for the blade—she refused to give up or give in—a punishing grip bruised her arms as she was hauled off of the ground like a mere sack.
The bearded male pulled Luella to stand, thick arms wrapping around her chest and forcing her to still. She squirmed in his grip, twisting and kicking out with her legs, but a hand against her chin turned her head up to the bearded male holding her hostage. He stuck his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. His breath was hot and rancid, and Luella wanted to throw up. A shudder wracked her body as the male’s tongue flicked out, skimming wetly over the side of her neck.
"Please," she moaned, turning her head away as much as she was able.
The male holding her laughed. " Please ," he mocked. Fingers roughly brushed over her cheekbones before the male remarked, "An heirus. Has to be. She’s a young one." His tone was contemplative and… hungry .
"Been a while since I had an heirus. They’re always the sweetest." The red-haired male leveled Luella with a cold stare, and the scar across his eye tugged at his brow as his face twisted with evil anticipation.
The grip holding her tightened to the point of crushing pain, and she yelped, her insides squeezing under the male’s unyielding grip. The red-haired male’s eyes roved over her body, lingering on her chest and legs. And before she could blink or flinch, he curled his fist and drove it into her stomach. A pained puff of air was torn from Luella’s lungs, and she curled over the male’s arm banding around her waist, a throbbing ache gripping her from the punch.
Her breaths were ragged as she tried to inhale; it was hard from her bent position and her sore lungs. It felt like the male had punched all the air out of her stomach from the force of the blow.
"Hold her down, Gunnar. I’m going first," he ordered the male with the beard—Gunnar—and his grip tightened even more on Luella’s arms before he threw her roughly to the ground.
"No!" she gasped, feeling like a spectator to her own demise as he knelt over her, ripping the cloak off of her body. The button skittered and clinked against the marble flooring.
The male’s eyes roved over every exposed bit of her. The thin, translucent cotton of her gown barely did anything to cover her shape. Luella lamented her choice of nightwear.
He pulled a knife from the sheath at his thigh, using it to cut a tear down the front of her slip. The jagged cut in the material stopped right at the center of her chest, the tip poised right over her pounding heart. She breathed in sharply and shallowly as she awaited the male to drive the knife into her chest and end it all.
Death would be a mercy at this point.
A strong hand gripped her upper thigh, and the male pulled her closer to him, dragging her over the gore-soaked marble floors. The bottom of her slip fell to her stomach as he parted her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut from the exposed position. She could do nothing but wait for it to be over.
Luella had hoped he would kill her before violating her. But what warmth did a dead body offer?
Just as his hand crested the junction of her thighs, fingers threatening to press where no one had ever touched before, Luella felt a warm splash against her face before a heavy weight fell on top of her.
Her lips pinched at the spray on her skin. She smelled the tang of iron, and the wetness was thick and hot. Her stomach roiled in protest.
Cracking an eye open, she brought a shaking hand up to wipe her face. Her hand came away red with blood. The weight on top of her rolled to the side, groaning in pain.
Through the roaring in her ears, she heard a voice, one now familiar to her and deeply threatening in tone. "Do not ever lay a hand on her."
One of the males laughed, a nervous tinge making the edges pitch higher than normal. "Prima," the third male said. He had been quiet to this point, but the dully excited sound of his voice made her ears tingle with shock and fear.
She wanted it all to be over.
Watching through half-cracked lids as her white-haired captor stalked forward, death was like a promise in his icy, blue eyes. He pointed his sword at Gunnar, where he still lay on the ground. Her vile attacker was rolled to the side where Luella could not see his face clearly, but blood pooled underneath him, adding more red to the once-white marble floors.
"What do you think the King would say if he knew you three tried to take what isn’t yours?" A white braid fell over his shoulder as he reached back to place his free hand on the hilt of his other longsword, brandishing it with a flourish. Her first captor—now turned savior—held one weapon in each hand, the glinting steel tips pointed at the two remaining males. "I wish I could drag this out, but I have places to be, you understand?" He grinned savagely before tacking on a quiet, "I’ll take pleasure in killing you."
And with that strange declaration, he lunged.
In a flurry of metal and the wet thuds of bodies falling, it was over as quickly as it had begun.
A detached finger landed on the ground near Luella’s leg, and she jerked back at the sight of the bloodied appendage, the start of a gasp on her tongue.
She had heard of stories of males coming home from war with vacant eyes and listless expressions, but she had never realized the weight of tragedy and death until it was staring her in the face in all its gory glory.
She stayed lying on the ground, blood from the fallen bodies soaking into her gown, turning the white into a sick red. If she didn’t know any better, she would have assumed the material was made to be such a scarlet shade.
But Luella did know better.
Pressing her body further into the floor as if trying to meld herself into stone and marble, she heard her captor’s footsteps as they pierced the once more silent space. The sounds of her ragged breath filled her ears with buzzing.
He crouched near her head, eyes flitting down to her rucked-up gown and exposed thighs. A purple bruise was already blossoming along the highest point of her legs in the blurred shape of a hand. His eyes grew even colder, jaw tightening with tension and fury.
The flash of thick tattoos along pale wrists grabbed Luella’s attention as he shifted his hands to right the hem of her nightgown, touch gentle as he smoothed the blood-soaked fabric to cover as much as it could. One of his fingers pressed against a shallow cut on her breastbone. A spark of tingles ignited where his finger trailed against her skin.
The male lifted a hand to reveal smooth, unmarred flesh. Drying blood crusted her fair skin, but no sign of the thin cut that had been etched into it.
He healed her.
A mage then , Luella distantly thought.
If she had any reservations, they were quashed under his healing touches. Combined with his savagery and arched ears, it was clearly evident this male was a mage. And a high-level one at that.
No wonder the males had been so fearful of his arrival.
Through the pounding in her heart that echoed throughout her body, she remembered one of the males calling him Prima —a title Luella was unfamiliar with.
"I should have prolonged their suffering," he commented, fingers still brushing patterns over the soft, bloodied skin of her chest. "Depraved creatures taking things that don’t belong to them. They deserved far worse than they got."
He gripped her shoulders, pulling her from the ground. His grasp was surprisingly gentle, and Luella found herself leaning into his touch after the nightmare she had experienced.
He set her on her feet, and before she could react, she was once more taken off guard by her lack of reflexes and training.
Would she ever learn?
A large, uncompromising hand gripped her throat. She choked, trying to inhale, and the male flexed his fingers. Her windpipe threatened to crush under the weight of his strength.
"If you ever think to flee me again, I will not grant you mercy as I am now." The predator leaned down, eyes level with hers as he spoke, his hand squeezing in warning against her neck. "Nod if you understand," he prompted.
Luella nodded quickly. The action was not doing anything at all to dislodge his grip on her.
He must have seemed satisfied with whatever fear he saw on her face, for he rubbed a thumb once down the side of her neck before releasing her.
She staggered back, eyes catching the three mutilated bodies strewn about the foyer, joining the already sordid collection of fallen soldiers and servants.
"Are they… Are they all dead?" Luella whispered, eyes falling to her blood-soaked feet.
She flinched back as his hand fell to her wrist, spinning her around forcibly.
"Yes. Or they’ll soon wish they were," the male mumbled the last part under his breath, and the final fragments of her heart that were held together by sheer force of will alone, shattered completely.
Harsh hands squeezed the joints of her wrists together, looping a thick and coarse rope around them. He knotted it tightly, pulling on it to make sure it was secure. He attached the long length of rope that bound her wrists together to his belt loop, giving it a curious look before he nodded once. It must be satisfactory, then.
Luella felt worse than cattle being led to slaughter.
The male turned for the doors, giving a tug on the braided rope. "Come," he ordered.
She stumbled after him, dodging errant limbs and pools of blood as she was led to the doors. They banged open with a crack, letting in the soft, glowing gleam of dawn light.
The grounds were a massacre, just as the inside of the castle had been. Smoke trailed into the sky distantly. Fires lit to burn pyres of bodies or the ruins of houses.
She turned her nose into her shoulder to stop herself from throwing up from the revolting odor of charred flesh.
As she was led forward by her captor, she cast one last glance back to her home of the last nineteen years. Tall, arching spires stood proudly, waving the crest of Solis to the villages below the cliffs.
An arcing trail of fire lit up the early morning dim, a fire-tipped arrow shooting precisely through one of the flags. In one second, it was gone, the material quickly being eaten away by the flames as more arrows followed suit, catching the centers of the Solis crest and burning away any traces of her kingdom.
Where once a proud and pious kingdom stood, now laid to waste. With burning flesh and roaring flames and wicked assailants gobbling up every last bit of their history. Their lands. Their dignity and honor.
And finally, a tear spilled over. One that had been held back with might for the last few tormented hours.
The floodgates opened as another crystalline tear followed.
Another.
And another.
And so, she wept.