Chapter 5 #3
All that was left was to decide on his entrance.
Should he snap the necks of the paladins guarding the entrance?
Or should he sneak behind the tent and cut his way inside?
In either case, he wanted to wait for Orithyia to harm Aurora again, so he would have just cause to demand her punishment.
Weighing the satisfaction of a violent entrance and the gains to be had with stealth, he chose stealth.
After all, vengeance was a dish best served cold.
Theron slunk behind the black tent and unsheathed his sword, grateful it was sharp enough to cut through the felt like butter. He peeked through the opening at the scene within.
“Not until my leg is healed,” Aurora hissed, leaning against one of the support posts.
Theron frowned. What was this about her leg? Had she even lied about her monthly courses?
“That wasn’t what we discussed,” a pompous Viridian noble with dark hair and fair skin said, looking down his nose at Aurora and sliding a baleful glare at Orithyia. He dressed as if he were going to court, his long silk tunic embroidered with silver thread.
“Surely it would be more sensible to save the healing until after you’ve had a vision. It would be less taxing for both you and the healer,” Orithyia replied.
Healer? Theron looked through the small group.
Clerics couldn’t use healing magic, merely herbs, poultices, and potions.
Nothing they could create would suffice for serious wounds.
The Viridian noble was accompanied by two others, one woman and a man who appeared to be a scribe.
Was the woman a healer? But she wore a soldier’s uniform.
Was she one of the army’s? Theron sneered.
In Viridis, Flora kept the best healers for herself, the second tier served the nobles exclusively, and the least talented were conscripted into the army. No doubt the woman was a hack at best.
“If you put that device on me again while I’m in this state, I’ll die,” Aurora retorted.
Device? Had they repaired the one Theron had destroyed? A pity. This time, he would ensure it was destroyed beyond saving. There would be no more having visions for his enemies.
The nobleman scoffed.
“I have sway with a quarter of the nobles on this march. You would do well to remember that before you think to refuse me what I seek.”
Orithyia gave Aurora a censorious look. His wife looked to be on the verge of tears.
“If you don’t believe me, then look!” she cried.
With some difficulty, she raised the fabric of her trousers and pushed her slit gown to the side.
What she revealed made his gut churn. Dark brown stained the bandages poorly wrapped around her leg.
When those fell away, it took an effort of will not to storm into the tent.
Her leg had been mangled and then put back together by a monster.
Angry sores wept blood and fluids all along her leg, red veins reaching out from every wound. Infected. Badly.
And he’d told her to walk on her own.
Theron was incandescent with rage. The noble backed away from Aurora, his face filled with disgust, as if her infection was catching. How long had she hidden this from him? Those wounds looked days old.
And yet alongside the anger was a profound guilt. He’d been so churlish he’d lost his wits. What kind of healer missed such a severe infection? What kind of husband neglected his wife like that? The kind that put his own wounded pride above her well-being.
“Healer, are you capable of treating those wounds before we begin?” Orithyia sighed, clearly aggrieved.
“I can, Your Holiness. But I won’t have the resources to heal her leg fully afterwards. The infection is extensive.”
“No shit!” Aurora snapped.
“What if you use the device on her other leg? She has two,” the nobleman said.
He was a dead man.
Theron would tear him apart limb from limb, starting with his fucking legs.
“You can’t be serious!” Aurora yanked her clothes back over her wounded leg.
“Would she survive?” Orithyia asked the healer.
“How can you even ask that?” Aurora’s voice cracked, her face paling in horror.
The healer looked between Aurora’s stricken expression and the high priestess’ impassive one.
“Maybe. If I used all my magic to keep her alive.”
Maybe if the healer had even one one-hundredth of Theron’s talent, she might be able to keep Aurora alive.
But if whatever device inflicted those extensive wounds on her leg was used on the other, the healer would need to use their own energies to prevent death by blood loss while also controlling the damage of the infection.
A royal healer in good physical shape might be able to do it, provided they had the stamina to use their own energy for the healing.
But if this hack forced Aurora’s body to take on the physical toll of healing itself, she would kill her.
He must be going soft, because as angry as he was, he wouldn’t allow her to meet such an end. No, he had plans for her, and none of them involved dying in Orithyia’s tent from a botched healing.
“There, then it’s settled. You’ll live. Now uphold your end of this bargain, or I’ll withdraw my support,” the noble said, hands on his hips as he narrowed his gaze at Aurora.
Just say no, you stubborn little fool.
“All I’m asking is for your patience and some decency, Lord Bacus! If I’m healed properly tonight, in a few days, I’m sure I’ll be able to—” Aurora began.
“I’ve waited long enough for the vision I was promised!
Do you have any idea what I’m risking by coming here?
And who do you think you are to speak of patience and decency?
My family’s ancestors were war heroes! Our lineage is hundreds of years old!
You’re no one! Nothing! Our queen did you the greatest honour of your life when she made you her daughter, but not one of us has forgotten what you were.
So give me the vision I’m owed, or I’ll tell the rest of my peers that you’re nothing but the whore of an Aurean dog! ”
Theron’s fists shook with barely controlled wrath. Bloodthirst thrummed through him at the insult to his wife. The gains from framing Orithyia grew smaller and smaller as the need for violence grew.
Only a few more moments and I’ll get everything. Violence. Orithyia’s downfall. Vengeance. Theron held back, but only just.
A tense silence held the lot of them in thrall.
Theron watched the emotions play out on Aurora’s face.
Shame. Anger. Desperation. She looked to Orithyia for aid.
She should never have turned to that snake for help in the first place.
He was her husband. It was he who had healed her every time that wretch had wounded her.
It was he who had been her shield, her champion, her lover.
Orithyia had done nothing but bring pain and suffering to her life.
And yet she turned to the old woman now when she was cornered.
Walk out of there. Where is your pride now? Where is that fire inside you when it matters?
“Remember why you’re here, Aurora. Remember your mission,” Orithyia counselled.
Drakon. All the people she’d lost. She’d come to slay the beast, no matter the cost. She’d told him time and again she would endure whatever it took to kill it.
It seemed his wife was a woman of her word, because she’d allowed her wounds to fester just so she could buy the loyalty of this Viridian scum without Theron knowing.
And she was willing to face almost certain death just for the hope of help from the same bastard who would call her a whore.
Something inside him broke as her shoulders slumped in acquiescence. No. Not his wife. Not her. How dare they break her spirit? How dare they steal her fire!
“Do you consent to using the device to produce a vision?” Orithyia asked.
It was then he saw the device. Bile rose.
Three times as large as the last, there was no other word for it but a torture device.
Inverted spikes ringed a cuff meant to maim and rend.
And she’d clearly worn it once before, if her current wounds were anything to go by.
No one was placing that on her. Not if he had anything to say about it!
Just as Theron pulled his sword from its scabbard to cut the rest of the tent to ribbons, a sharp blade met his neck.
“Back away from Her Holiness’ tent.”
Theron put his hands up and backed up a step. He didn’t have time for this, not when Aurora was about to kill herself for some pompous dead man’s pride. Whoever thought to prevent him from stopping this madness would pay. He turned his head. A paladin had caught him.
“I am the King of Aureum, and your high priestess is about to kill my wife. Lower your blade, or I’ll make you eat it,” he growled.
“Move away!” the paladin commanded.