Chapter Sixteen- The Prince in Tatters #2
No. I can’t allow the possibility to sink in that despite his cruelty, he feels something for me. I don’t want him to feel anything for me.
I need to set my sights on getting the Titan’s Kyanite and freeing him.
I need to set him free. The tyrannical and malicious rule of King Dreven has gone on long enough and Prince Aleksander will make it worse.
His thirst for power is mirrored only by his joy of making blood-stained rivers.
My head pounds as I remember Caelthar, another reason to free Thorne.
Not to fight these battles alone, though; I intend to aid him.
I do not want to entertain why I wish to help him and, conveniently, a loud crash jolts me out of my thoughts.
“You know, I would like to sleep toni—” I swing the door open to find the wretched prince halfway out of the bathroom window. Given that I reside on the third floor of the palace, the drop would be rather unforgiving.
I grab the back of his shirt, twisting it in my fingers and wrenching him back towards me.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he slurs.
“A little late for that, Princeling.”
He fights back against me for a moment before he comes crashing backwards on top of me. The back of his head cracks against my chin but he’s the one that says, “Ow!”
I grip his hips with my hands to steady him, but I can’t ignore the way he pushes his ass against my crotch.
“Nope!” I slide him forward between my legs, forcing him to sit up.
It would seem that the need to vomit consumes him in that very same moment as he lunges for the toilet and hurls into it.
Blessed Titans.
He wipes his mouth and turns to me.
“Aleksander wants to see me, ton—no tomorrow night… not now tonight but after the day is done,” he waves around gesturing.
“To torture you again?” I cross my legs and watch him.
He nods.
“So he tortures you to help balance your over-abundance of power because the Titan’s Kyanite can only do so much?” I ask, still trying to puzzle it together.
“So he says,” he leans forward and drops his head.
“Yet you come out of it stronger?” I prod.
“Can’t I explain to you how being born to two Titans’ bloodlines affects my strength at a later time?” He groans.
“No. Explain now,” I demand. He frowns.
“Yes, I am stronger after I heal from the torture. It allows me to use a great deal of my magic so that the Kyanite doesn’t become overwhelmed. I don’t know why that matters, maybe it has a limit.” He tugs mindlessly at the chain around his throat.
“The Titan’s Kyanite is unable to hold the vastness of your power.” I shudder when I come to the realization.
He shrugs like perhaps that’s the case but he doesn’t know.
His power is unlike anything I’ve ever fathomed.
Arcanists use crystals all the time as siphons but that’s only been done by the strongest Arcanists in history.
Even then, they’re usually small pendants worn around their necks…
This Titan’s Kyanite is likely a large column of stone.
“Have you seen it?” I ask.
“In dreams… I think Mother shows me,” he turns around to throw up again. I feel guilty about using his vulnerability to get answers but not enough to stop. He can hate me in the morning.
“How big is it?” I ask when he turns around and drags himself against the wall. He gives me a mischievous grin and starts to undo the buttons of his pants.
“Stop being a sexual deviant!” I scoot closer to him and swat his hands away. I become far too aware of the dim light in the washroom, the cool stone floor beneath us, and the breeze rolling through the window. “Tell me how big the Kyanite is!”
Thorne frowns and rolls his eyes.
“Like your height, but skinny,” he waves his hand dismissively.
My eyes mirror saucers and he has no idea about the implication of what that means.
“Thorne, I don’t think you’re capable of holding all of your power if we destroy the Titan’s Kyanite…” It comes out as a devastated whisper.
“Then I’ll die and I won’t have to worry about it anymore,” Thorne shrugs as I see every broken piece of him in those words. “I will use the power it returns to me to destroy them all.” His eyes turn dark, his voice dropping in pitch as he says, “I will end this Netherhelm and I will die to do it.”
I see then that his hatred for King Dreven is the same as mine. The King and the previous ones before him have let their greed destroy Netherhelm’s values and way of life for its humans and its Arcanists alike.
“But how do we destroy a power source that big…” My voice hitches.
“I haven’t figured that out yet either. But I know that binding magic to crystals is an ancient practice. The Titans did it. There must be a way to undo it.” Thorne seems hopeful, leaning forward and knotting his hands as he talks. He’s sobering up, his power burning through the alcohol.
“It sounds like you and I will need to go to the library and the archives,” I sigh. His face turns serious after he nods in agreement.
“The twins must live; they have the heart to make it right.” He leans closer to me. He smells like dirt, liquor, and vomit, but when he reaches out his hand, I clasp it. “They can undo what King Dreven has done to Netherhelm.”
“Let’s burn it to the ground,” I grin and I almost ask him about Asterin when he squeezes my hand.
Xeusis may have sired their bloodline, but something inside of the sleeping Titan is calling for change. We are Netherhelm’s reckoning.