47. Lukene
J ostled awake, I sit up abruptly, confusion swirling in my mind as I take in my surroundings. I’m being pulled along on a makeshift cot, crafted from branches and secured with vines. As I blink away the remnants of sleep, I spot Reign at the front, her expression strained and exhausted. A gash above her eyebrow trickles blood down her face, stark against her pale skin. My heart sinks at the sight as I realize we are right outside of the cabin.
“You dragged me all the way up the mountain?” I ask, my voice hoarse from sleep and concern.
“Barely, but I did it,” she pants, her breath coming in labored gasps. I go to rise but she places a firm hand on my shoulder, a mixture of urgency and tenderness in her touch. “Careful! Your shoulder is injured. We need to get you inside. I made a poultice and bandaged you up, but I kind of bled all over your wound when I was doing it. I need to clean it out.”
Standing, I stretch my arm tentatively, surprised to find no pain at all. I rotate my shoulder, testing it further—still nothing.
“What did you put in the poultice? I feel nothing. No pain at all, and the effects of that sap from the Tremon should still be lingering,” I say, glancing at her with a mixture of curiosity and awe.
“Just leaves and plants. Come inside. Let me see it,” she replies, determination flickering in her eyes. I follow her into the cabin, my heart swelling with gratitude.
Once inside, I sit on a sturdy chair while she unbandages my shoulder. I take off my shirt, revealing smooth, unmarred skin. The wound is completely healed, as if the magic of the land itself has woven its threads of life back into me.
“I don’t understand. There was a hole through your entire shoulder,” she gasps, her mouth agape in disbelief.
“It is said that this land is blessed by the gods and goddesses. The plants must have been imbued with their magic. That’s the only explanation,” I say, my voice steady. “Do you have any left? We need to clean your head wound.”
She shakes her head.
“Well, sit still and let me clean it up,” I insist gently. I rise to grab a large pot, filling it with water and bringing it to the fire to heat. Within minutes, the water is steaming, and I bring it over to the table, dipping a cloth in it before returning to her side.
As I carefully wipe her tired face, I notice the scab forming on her wound. “How did you manage to get us away from that monster? Did you kill it?” I ask, my tone laced with genuine admiration.
She nods, a shadow crossing her face. “Seeing you drop like that…” Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head, seemingly lost in thought. “I don’t know what happened. Fire just… exploded from me.”
“Aww, were you worried for me, Prisoner?” My lips curl up as I speak the words.
“No.” She shakes her head as she gives me a close-lipped smile. “I just don’t know my way back to the palace.”
“So, what you’re saying is you need me?” I cock my head, grinning mischievously.
“Not at all.” Her smirk transforms into a full smile, and I can’t help but feel the warmth radiating between us.
“Lies,” I tease, watching as amusement flickers in her eyes. “Lying to your prince? Tsk, tsk, tsk. That just won’t do.”
“You need to work on your thank yous. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt,” she shoots back, her playful tone mingling with the underlying tension.
Chuckling heartily, I recall the first time I’d said those words to her, the banter sparking an electric connection.
The sun barely begins its ascent, casting a soft golden glow across the horizon, when the wyverns finally drop us off at the base of Serpent’s Reach. The journey has been long and arduous, filled with the constant thrum of wind and the rhythmic beating of the wyverns’ wings. As I stretch my legs upon landing, I catch sight of a carriage waiting for us, the wooden wheels slightly muddy from the rain. Kylo, James, and the guard who mans the carriage are deep in conversation, their voices mingling in the crisp morning air.
“It’s about time! The messenger said you were expected last night,” James exclaims, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“Well, we got caught up,” I reply.
Kylo smirks. “Not like that!” I snap, but he puts his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling softly.
“So, what happened?” James presses, his curiosity evident as he leans closer. I take a deep breath, preparing to recount the whirlwind of events. As I explain the entire ordeal to them, I watch Reign’s face, her expressions shifting with every twist and turn of the tale.
Once I finish, Kylo climbs into the carriage first. I assist Reign up, our fingers brushing for a moment, igniting a spark between us that makes my heart race. James moves to step in next, but I stop him, the urgency of the moment pressing down on me.
“Kylo, keep her safe. Take her straight to my room. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Send another carriage to pick us up,” I instruct, my voice firm as he nods.
“Where are you going?” Reign’s voice rises, her eyes wide with concern and fear, the frantic energy in her gaze pulling at my heartstrings.
“Kylo will keep you safe until I get there,” I reassure her, but the uncertainty lingers in her expression. “I’m going to make amends.” I shut the carriage door gently, though the weight of her worries hangs in the air, and I signal for the guard to drive.
As the carriage rolls away, I hear Reign’s voice yelling after me. “What amends? What are you talking about?” Her frantic questions fade as they pick up speed, the sound of her concern echoing in my mind.
Once the carriage is out of sight, I turn to James, my resolve hardening. I explain to James exactly what we are about to do and why. With a determined nod, we head toward the darkened entrance of the Hollows, where answers and confrontations await.
We sit in a dimly lit room, the air thick with tension as we await the warden. My shadows swirl around me, restless and eager, reflecting the fury simmering within. James sits quietly beside me, his stoicism belying the anger that flares in his eyes. Once I told him what had been done to Reign, his allegiance to my plan solidified without hesitation.
The door creaks open, and the warden strides in, his jolly smile fading as he takes in the menacing magic filling the space.
“Prince…” he begins, bowing slightly, his eyes widening at the sight of my shadows. “What can I help you with?”
I rise, my presence filling the room as I draw closer to him. “I have a question for you, Warden.” A smile curls on my lips, but it’s anything but warm. “Do you remember the prisoner, Reign?”
His expression shifts, and I can see the gears turning in his mind. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but I don’t know who Reign is.”
I step forward, my voice low and deliberate. “She is about this tall,” I say, extending my hand to indicate her height. “Pale lavender hair. A furious little thing.”
He chuckles and seems to relax a bit. Perfect. “Oh, 7296. I do remember that one—very well.” He smirks as his eyes dance, and I want to pluck them out of his head. In fact, I think I will.
In one swift motion, I withdraw my blade. I lunge forward, driving it into his eye socket, shallowly as to not kill him—not yet, anyways. The blade meets flesh with a sickening squelch, and he screams, his hands instinctively grasping at his face. My shadows spring to life, wrapping around him, preventing his escape.
“Listen and listen closely, Warden.” James rises, his imposing figure looming over the warden, radiating menace. “Every guard that has ever laid a finger on Reign needs to be brought to this room right now! Don’t tell me you don’t know who they are unless you want to lose the other eye as well.”
With a violent twist, I yank the knife back, the motion plucking his eye from its socket. He screams again, a sound of pure agony, as blood rushes down his face. I relish the echo of his pain, a haunting melody that resonates within me.
“Go on, hurry up!” I demand, pushing him toward the door.
He stumbles out of the room, as I pluck his eye off the knife and stomp on it, feeling it squish under my foot relieves some of the tension I feel, but not nearly enough. No one will touch her like that again. These sick bastards need to be taught a lesson. I will never be able to kill Vanna because she is heir to the throne, but I will punish every single one of the bastards for what they did to Reign. In a way, that heals a part of me—the part that wants justice for what happened to me when I was a child.
Within minutes, the room fills with prison guards, their faces a mix of confusion and fear. James and I unleash our fury upon them, and by the time we leave, we are both drenched in blood, exhilaration coursing through our veins.
The most satisfying part of it all is hearing Big Al’s screams as I slowly cut his manhood off, and then the gagging noise he makes as I cut it into pieces and force him eat it before I kill him.
Once we finish, we leave behind a room steeped in carnage. James appoints a new guard, issuing strict warnings about the behavior we will not tolerate. With that, we make our swift exit from the Hollows, urgency propelling us back to the palace.
As we hurry through the shadows, a sense of grim satisfaction settles over me. I’ve given Reign a form of justice—one that echoes my own suffering. And I will do everything in my power to protect her from further harm.