Chapter II Knight #2
I realize with a shiver there is more variety among the Agnidari than among my father’s courtiers, who all dress in the same fashion, many wearing powdered white wigs coiffed into elaborate shapes. Somehow, no one has ever compared the courtiers to cattle.
I wonder what other lies I was told, and my eyes stray to the throne.
Two Agnidari stand behind my father. I flinch when I see him.
He’s tied to his throne, a gag stuffed in his mouth. Tears run down his trembling cheeks, and his eyes are red-rimmed and stubbornly focused on me.
Whore.
I turn my gaze away, my fingers spasming around the hand holding mine. The Agnidari squeezes back, and I shake my head, even more confused, more frustrated.
“Why are you being kind to me?” I ask, my voice pitched too high, ringing too loudly in the silence enforced by our invaders.
Some Agnidari make sounds, low, hoarse guffaws and huffs. My guard looks at me, face serious, even though his voice is light.
“It’s only common sense to be kind to my future queen, don’t you think?”
I blink at him, then at my father, who screams into his gag, then at the Tyrant who strides in through the open doors, dragging Father Saius by the scruff of his golden robes.
“Got the priest.”
I hiccup, a swarm of insects taking flight in my stomach. I feel sick, because somehow, I know. Only… I can’t articulate what it is that I know except there’s no easy death for me today, that’s certain. The gods have failed me, like they always do.
“Please,” I whisper, turning to my guard, the only person who showed me a semblance of comfort in this room. “Please, what’s happening?”
He grimaces, the tips of his teeth showing, and a new wave of terror pounds through me until my knees shake. My breathing is too fast, too audible. I’m dizzy.
“Get me the princess,” the Tyrant commands, his harsh voice causing a fresh bout of nausea. “We’ll wed before her father.”
Wed. My knees give way, and I remain standing only because my guard puts his arm around my shoulders before I collapse.
“Oh, gods. Any god. Please,” I whisper, but my lips are numb, my throat has closed, and no sound comes out.
“Can I speak with you, my king?” my guard says in a low, calm voice, his watchful eyes never leaving my face.
“Later,” the Tyrant growls, striding over. “The princess. Now.”
“I insist,” the blue-haired Agnidari says softly, and the Tyrant stops by his side, his eyes snapping to my face. “She’ll faint before she says the vows.”
The Tyrant turns away. I just catch the way his shoulders shake with tension or something else before my eyes cloud with more darkness. I’m breathing, I know I am, but it feels like there is no air.
“Take care of it,” the white-haired man growls before stalking away.
“Yes, my king.”
The world sweeps from under my feet. I gasp with the last of my air, and then I’m being carried, my body rocked with long, even steps as people and walls pass by, dreamy and unreal.
A stream of warm air caresses my face, and I choke, then heave in a deep breath, my first in what feels like ages.
“Good. Keep breathing,” comes the calm, quiet voice with a hint of accent.
“You… What…”
“Shh. Breathe. You’re doing very well.”
We’re somewhere darker now, quieter, and then, a door closes, and we’re plunged into complete darkness. A cry of alarm flies out of my sore throat.
“Wait a moment. I had it somewhere here…”
I’m jostled and shaken as he moves me to one arm and maneuvers with the other until a match ignites with a sizzle. The Agnidari looks awkward, too tall for this cramped space. He supports me with a single arm as if I am but a small sack, not a full grown woman. It’s beastly. Improper.
Impressive.
I am afraid, yes. My heart hammers, and traces of nausea still cling to the pit of my stomach. But I am no longer suffocating. His manner puts me at ease, which is ridiculous.
I’d laugh if I had the capacity. The only comfort I have had today was from an invader. Madness.
“What are we doing in a broom closet?” I ask when he lights a small candle and transfers me to both arms again, one supporting my back, the other under my knees. My feet dangle in the air, and I feel inexplicably light.
As if, finally, someone bears the weight of my burdens with me. I’m no longer on my own. It’s a novel feeling.
“I thought you’d be comfortable here,” he says with what I think is chagrin. “The castle’s being searched right now, and you’re in no shape to handle that.”
“Handle what?” I ask with an inappropriate little giggle. “My teachers and servants being raped and murdered?”
I giggle again, even though on the inside, I’m aghast. I can’t seem to control my mouth, though. Still giggling, I gasp out, “Oh, dear. I think I’ve gone over the bend.”
“You are overwhelmed,” the Agnidari says. “But at least you’re alive. Count your blessings.”
My giggles turn into outright laughter so uncontrollable, I have trouble catching my breath.
“Well, I took care of it,” he mutters with a wry sort of resignation. “You don’t look like you’re about to faint anymore.”
“A-Alive?” I manage to gasp out between giggles. “I’ve been be-begging for death! Blessings! Blessings, indeed!”
He huffs with a pained sort of patience, as if he knows there’s no point trying to stop my hysteria even though he hates it. Then he speaks, and it turns out he can stop me, after all.
“Well, the five other princesses he could have married were dead before we scaled the walls of their castles. One was only four years old. Slaughtered by her own mother.”
My laughter dies in my throat. I stare at him in shock, my nausea back, throat threatening to close up. He winces, muttering a harsh word in a foreign language.
“You didn’t know. Of course.”
“What happened?” I ask, trying to sit up in his arms, which proves hard. He holds me tightly, and I refuse to grasp his bloodied shoulder for leverage.
As I wiggle and huff, I jostle him hard, and he hits his elbow on the wall. The Agnidari hisses in pain, baring his teeth, and I freeze completely, newly terrified.
Gods, it would all be bearable except for the teeth. I hate their teeth.
“Just… Here.”
He lets me down to my feet, positioning himself between me and the door. I turn in a circle, searching for a way out, but there’s none. When I look at him, it strikes me again how tall he is. The top of my head doesn’t even reach his armpit.
“Can we do this later?” he asks, rubbing his forehead with a graceful hand, the black claws glossy in the golden light.
“Magnar will start throwing things soon, and then, he’ll throw people.
Your father is high on his list of humans to throw, so if you want to see him again, I’d suggest you go out there, say the vows, and let this be over. ”
“Magnar? The Tyrant?” I ask, swallowing thickly.
The Agnidari nods, and I release a shaky breath. Somehow during all this chaotic interruption, I’ve come to understand what will happen to me. Not death. Not even rape, at least, not yet.
I am to be married to the worst enemy of my people.
“What’s your name, then?” I ask my guard to distract myself from the horrible realization.
He runs his fingers through his hair until a few strands come loose, framing his face. He’s more and more nervous. Meanwhile, I grow unnaturally serene. His hair looks soft. Nothing beastly about it, and the dark blue color is pretty.
“I’m Khay. I am Magnar’s first knight. Look, we really have to go before…”
It’s too late. Something crashes outside, something thuds, and screams break out. Khay says a harsh word I don’t understand, probably a curse, and grabs my hand. We fly out the door, and I desperately try to keep up with his long steps, fear and curiosity propelling me onward.
We burst into the throne room just in time to see my father crumpled into a heap on the floor, his cheek pressed to the marble, his tongue out.
The Tyrant holds it in a pair of pliers, crouching by my father’s side.
He grunts and pulls. I choke on my gasp.
My father releases a horrible, animalistic bellow as his tongue stretches out of his mouth, longer than nature intended.
“Call my queen a whore one more time, I dare you,” the Tyrant says in a calm, quiet voice that slices through the screams. “Go on. Say it.”
My father tries to speak, but with his tongue held rigid all he manages are grunts and whimpers. I walk toward him, barely conscious of my steps, my movements dreamlike, and Khay follows, firmly holding my hand.
“Please,” I hear myself speak as if from a hundred miles away. “Please, let my father go.”
The Tyrant looks up. For a moment, he’s utterly still as we stare at each other, his silver eyes narrow with rage.
Then in one fluid motion, he stands. The pliers drop to the floor with a metallic clang. My father brings his bound hands to his mouth and weeps, curled on the floor like a baby.
I take one more step toward him, but Khay holds me back. The Tyrant watches me, a cruel smirk playing in the corners of his mouth as he slowly comes down the steps of my father’s dais and stops in front of me.
“Princess Caliane,” he says with a small, mocking bow. “Are you well enough to attend your wedding?”
I shake my head. His expression doesn’t change.
“That’s too bad. I hoped your father might see it, but his time is running short. We’ll have to marry after his funeral, then.”
My eyes widen with terror, and I can’t help it anymore. This is too much. A tear runs down my cheek, but at least I manage to hold in the sobs.
The Tyrant cups my cheek and swipes the wetness away with his thumb, bending at the waist until his face is level with mine. “Don’t be sad, my queen,” he says with tenderness that sounds like mockery. “Tell me what you wish for and I’ll make it happen.”
“D-don’t kill my father,” I say in a voice thick from holding back sobs.
“Marry me and I’ll let him live.”