Chapter 32
Daisy
The door opened, and a masked and robed figure walked in with their head bowed.
Another entered behind, their faces not visible within their hoods.
They peeled off to the sides, making way for the king to follow on their heels.
From his neck to his ankles, he wore a strange black bodysuit with a light sheen.
A deep red robe was draped over it, dusting the ground as he walked.
In one hand he held an obsidian scepter, and balanced on his other palm was the diamond chalice.
He didn’t say a word as he covered the space between them. His magic flowed over her, its vileness seeping into her pores. Her heart quickened as he stopped in front of her. He held out the items he carried, and his minions glided forward to take each.
“Hmm.” The sound sent disgust shivering across Daisy’s skin. His gaze took in every inch of her. “I have always detested humans.” He held out a hand. One of the minions supplied him with a whip. Her breathing grew shallower, but she didn’t show her growing trepidation. “Detested, but desired.”
He slung the instrument. Steel-tipped leather sliced across her skin. She sucked in a breath and trapped it behind her teeth. The garment the guards had supplied tore. The pain flared as blood welled up.
“So beautiful.” He swung it again. “So breakable.”
Fuck this guy was the worst. He was so concerned about breakable. She wanted to turn those words against him.
She fell into the pain as it rippled across her body. Fell into the feeling of him slicing her flesh.
She wasn’t like most humans. Lexi had given her the gift of the gods. Now, she wasn’t any more breakable than fae. Than him. She’d proven it in those games. She would prove it still.
“You do not deserve life, most of you,” he said, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. “You are good for only amusement.”
He hit her harder, high and low, her arms and face.
Her legs. Her feet. Blood flowed down her skin, covering every square inch.
Pain made her woozy, but she held on to it like a lifeline.
If she felt pain, it meant she was alive.
It meant she could still fight. And she would.
She was a captive at this moment, but they would eventually release her.
They would move her. She would be ready for it.
“Your kind needs a ruler.” He was breathing heavily when he finally stopped. “I will be that ruler. But by then…you will be dead. Turn her.”
Fear punched a hole through her middle, but she didn’t react. They might find that knife, but she could still kill with her bare hands. Zorn had made sure of that. When this king didn’t have his magic, they would be equals.
Only worry about that which you can control. For the rest, wait…and be ready to move.
The chains pulled at her wrists, stretching her, and she let them. The excess was hooked on a peg so she’d stay put, and she waited for them to find the knife.
Steel sliced across her back. Liquid dribbled from the cuts. Again. Again. The cool air touched each slash, elevating the sting to something worse. Like salt being poured into the wound. It kept her grounded. Kept her tethered to reality. To this world.
She could hear the king’s excited breathing, heavy even over the sharp sound of the whip. Lacy bits of fabric stuck to her wounds, soon numbed from the harsh treatment. Any moment they would find that knife, still stuck to her skin. Hiding behind material that was slowly but surely being cut away.
The bottom of the garment waved as it fell from her body. The instrument continued to work. The top followed shortly thereafter. No clothing covered her now.
The knife stayed put.
It should’ve been on full display. Yet there was no mention. The lashes kept coming.
She reveled in the pain. Bathed in it. Her mind wanted to sink away to save her consciousness, but she wouldn’t let it.
Instead, she clung to the thoughts of those she loved to keep her strong.
To the fact she would be a hero, come hell or high water, and Mordecai would be so mad at her for sacrificing herself to achieve it. Pettiness for the win.
When he was done, sagging with the effort, Daisy was covered in blood. It ran freely down her skin in a wash of crimson.
“Yes,” the king said, surveying his work. “Good. Take her to the bed. I’ll have her there.”
Her wailing barely made a sound now, having been forced out of her somewhere along the way. Her fatigue silenced her voice. That was just her body, though. That wasn’t her mind. And when the mind was strong, the body didn’t matter.
It wasn’t as eloquent as Zorn might’ve said it, but whatever. It worked.
The minions released first one manacle, then the other. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of her own blood. Her body quivered.
Okay, maybe the body mattered a little bit…
They bent and reached for her, their hands stained with strands of black. The king lay on the bed, nude and prone, waiting for her. It would become his deathbed. Somehow.
She closed her eyes, feeling the magic of the room. Feeling the eddies and flows, twisting and bending from a few areas but tranquil and smooth in another.
The diamond chalice.
It had come alive because of her. It had called to her in the Court Hall. It stood by now, ready.
It had damned well better be. It had ultimately gotten her into this mess.
The hands grabbed her, but she focused on the diamond chalice. Felt it. Reached for it with the magic it had gifted her. Had cursed her with.
Its bright, hot pulse in her middle made her sob.
The heat expanded, filling her up…and then overflowed.
It pushed out onto her skin and coated her.
Blanketed her. But it didn’t heal her. Blood still cascaded down her torn flesh, dripping in places, oozing in others.
If she used it to heal that, the king would know she was more than he suspected. More than a mere fragile human.
The pain dulled, though. Numbed. Her energy sparked as the hands picked her up from the floor.
The minions tried to steady her on wobbling limbs.
She let them, breathing deeply, feeling the life flow down from her middle and into her aching limbs.
The pulse grew. Blossomed. With it, so did her strength.
She took a step forward, using the minions to steady herself. Mumbling nonsense. Her head lolled; she was acting now. Her sobs made her hiccup.
“Please,” she whispered, balancing her body. “Please.”
“Yes,” the king cooed. “Beg. That’s right, human, beg for your life. I will grant you your wish…if you pleasure me.”
He was lying. She could hear it in his voice.
Taunting her, as the royals liked to do.
As Tarian had warned her about. Trained her for, though she didn’t need a lesson to know this king was full of shit.
Growing up had taught her not to trust people like him.
He wasn’t even a fae anymore. He was something that needed to be exterminated.
“Do you want me to let you go, human?” the king taunted her.
“Not at all…” she said, ripping an arm away from the minion on the right. “I’ll do it myself”—she snatched her knife from its sheath—”you miserable fuck.”
She spun on newly strengthened legs and dragged her blade through the air. It opened a red line across the minion’s chest.
He started as the knife turned into a dagger, her favorite weapon. She withered both of their magics, then turned and stabbed Minion Two through the heart. Back again and she evaded a punch. These things didn’t have any weapons.
Slipping behind him, she grabbed his hood and tugged it lower, over more of his face. Her knife sliced across his throat.
Magic, the king’s, ballooned in the chamber. She latched on and sucked it in as hard as she could. He didn’t get to stay in control. He didn’t get to fight like he normally might. He would learn what it was like to be at a human’s mercy.
The diamond chalice pulsed power into her. More strength. Speed.
Where had this been when she was crossing the fringe?
The king snarled as he bounced up from the bed. His leathery body was like a badly tanned animal hide covering bone and sinew.
“Fucking hell, you’re gross,” she said, pulling more magic, forcing him into a frenzied state. “No wonder the queen doesn’t object to your finding different bed partners. She probably encourages it. She doesn’t want to touch you.”
The king ran at her, jerky and halting, his hands out like claws. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
He was fast, though. Very fucking fast.
She stepped forward to meet him and slipped on the blood around her feet. Thankfully, because of the last few days, she was used to fighting in such conditions. She righted herself as his body barreled toward her.
She stepped at an angle and caught him with one hand.
The other peppered him with knife strikes.
Stab, stab, slice—she got in as many as she could before he bellowed and turned for her.
His arms caught her skin but slid off, the surface slick with blood.
He’d been trying to create lube with the blood, but instead had made it harder for him to combat her. Suck on that, donkey fucker.
His nails clawed down her arms, leaving fire in their wake.
She gritted her teeth and didn’t bother acting this time. She would never act for him again. She’d kill him or he’d kill her. There was no other outcome of this fight, not since she’d yanked at his magic.
A loud thump hit the chamber doors. The doorknob jiggled as someone tried to get in. Another thump, someone ramming it with their body. She had to get this done before they got in to help the king.
“You…will…fuck-ing…die,” she grunted as she yanked back his hair and stabbed at his throat.
He spun at the last moment, so fucking fast. Thank the miserable gods he was out of his mind with frenzied panic. He wasn’t relying on skill or training, just animalistic brute strength and manic clawing.
She yanked more on his magic, as hard as she could. She stabbed at his side. His nails raked down the side of her face, and she took the pain as she lined up another strike. A normal person would’ve gone down, even a fae. This creature wouldn’t succumb to the destruction.
She grappled one-handed to ensure the other held on to the knife. He grabbed her throat. Another slam hit the doors. Wood cracked. They were forcing their way in.
His hands squeezed with incredible strength, cutting off her air supply. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She pummeled him, holding his shoulder for leverage. Black spots danced in her vision. Still she stabbed, ruining his chest. She hit his heart and still the fucking creature would not go down.
Why isn’t he dying?
Her lungs burned. Blackness crept closer. Blood drenched them both.
She went after his neck with more force, trying to sever his head. Her knife turned into a saw.
He ripped her down, and they fell, but neither of them quit. She sawed into his neck. The diamond chalice fed her strength. It was the only reason she was still conscious.
The door burst open. Time was up.