Five #2
I take a breath and go to the door when Declan unlocks it, Rohan walking parallel with me until he grunts, the chains stopping him. Yet still, he strains against them, veins popping in his neck as he tries to step closer to me.
As soon as I’m at the doorway, Declan grabs me roughly.
“Watch it,” Rohan growls, the sound bouncing off the walls.
“Oh, I’ll watch it alright,” Declan says before he slaps me across the face. Fire licks up my cheek and a roar fills the space.
“I will kill you!”
“I would like to see you try.” He grabs me again. “Come on, elf, the king awaits.”
“No!” Rohan bellows, pulling against his chains to try to get to me.
I whimper in fear, my eyes locking with his furious and panicked ones.
He’s snarling and growling as I’m dragged from my cell and down the long corridor by my arm.
I try to free myself, my legs shaking, but Declan suddenly turns, grabbing my hair and I cry out.
“Alara!” Rohan shouts.
I’m dragged up a set of stairs, Rohan losing it as the door shuts behind us. I miss a step, scraping my knee and Declan roughly pulls me along, my scalp stinging.
He opens another door at the top and the sudden onslaught of bright light has me shielding my eyes, dots dancing in my vision until it clears.
Guards line the walls, masks in place, watching us pass by. We go through another door and into a larger room. Two women are on the floor, scrubbing the stone, and a man is cleaning a window. They never once look our way, keeping their heads down, shoulders hunched.
“Hurry up,” Declan demands, quickening his steps.
We enter through another door, this one leading to a hallway and round a corner into another one, then another.
This one has a purple carpet down the center, and sconces light the walls, heavy drapes covering the windows. Various pictures decorate the space, depicting battles and bloodshed.
One is of an elf burning, her pointed ears showing through her hair, her mouth open on a scream.
I shiver at the horrid image.
Declan stops me in front of a set of double doors, finally releasing my hair and nodding at the guards on either side of it.
He knocks on the white wood.
“Yes?” I freeze at the sound of the king’s voice, fear making my stomach roll.
“I have the elf, my king.”
“Enter.”
My knees give way, and Declan grabs my arm, holding me up before dragging me into the room.
I’m thrown to the carpeted floor, my hair covering my face. I don’t dare look up from the thick, patterned rug.
I hear plates being scraped, notice guards standing at the sides from the corner of my eye.
“She is smaller than I remember,” Halen says, and I tremble, my fingers digging into the rug.
Declan grabs me again. “Stand up in front of your king.”
I get to my feet, eyes darting wildly around the room.
Golden chandelier, deep purple drapes, light from the window, servants between guards, a long table in the middle full of food.
But it’s the figures at the table that have my breath stalling in my lungs.
“Sit,” King Halen gestures to an empty chair. I don’t move. I can’t. “Now!”
Declan grips me and hauls me over to the table, shoving me into a padded seat two spaces away from the king, and three spaces away from the others. The separation makes me feel even more on display.
I rearrange my dress, still bloodied and torn, hands shaking.
“An elf?” a woman further down asks. “How did you manage that?”
“I have my ways,” Halen replies. “After years of trying, I have finally acquired one. Alive.”
“Congratulations, my king,” a man says.
“Yes, this is worthy of a celebration.” Another says.
I feel eyes boring into me, so many eyes. How many people are sitting at this table?
“Eww,” a girl says, and I glance her way as she crinkles her nose in disgust. “Daddy, she’s horrid.”
She’s young, maybe sixteen. Her blonde hair is curled perfectly, and the dress she wears is a lighter purple with ruffles at the end.
“Violetta, don’t be rude,” another man interjects from the king’s left. He’s a little older, wrinkles around his eyes.
“It’s fine, Ivor. Not to worry, Violetta,” King Halen says. “She will be bathed, and yes, we finally have an elf in our midst.”
“She’s rather distasteful,” another male says, and I look across the table at him, and the man next to him. They could almost pass as twins.
The one who spoke has blonde hair swept back from his face and dark blue eyes, the one next to him also has blonde hair, but his is a little messier and his eyes, one gray, one blue, are stormy. They flash for a moment before dulling again.
They both have the same nose, chin, even the same eye shape, but the one with the mismatched eyes feels deadlier than the other.
“She will help us with what we want to achieve, Nathanial,” the king says to the one who spoke. “She isn’t to be your wife, so it’s no matter if she is to your liking or not.”
“True.” Nathanial takes a drink, gazing at me.
“Are you ready to be married, Prince Nathanial?” a woman asks.
“It is father’s wish,” he replies. “Alexandar and I have apparently run out of time.”
“It’s good to settle down,” she says, eyeing them. “My daughter—”
“No need,” the king interrupts. “I’ve already found them suitors.”
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “I apologize if I’m speaking out of turn, my king. My husband and I thought after some conversations we had, that Franchesca would be a match for one of the princes.”
“I understand, Lady Marcell, but unless there is an unfortunate event where their suitors are indisposed, I’m afraid Franchesca will have to marry elsewhere. Don’t you have a son, Lord Caswell?”
“Oh yes,” an older male replies, picking up a goblet. “He is of age.”
“See,” the king gestures. “Set Franchesca and Albert up for courting.”
“I… of course, my king,” Lady Marcell says, looking down at her plate.
“And what of the elf?” another asks.
“She is to work alongside me for the foreseeable future.”
“Aww, she won’t be in The Games, Daddy?” Violetta asks, while my stomach turns.
“Oh she will, just not for all of them. Can you imagine the coin it would bring in?”
I breathe as quietly as I can, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment.
Take me back to the cell. Someone take me away from here.
“I want to see her in all of them,” she goes on, brown eyes sparkling as she looks at me. “We can see how much she heals.”
“She isn’t here to be cut apart,” Ivor replies.
“Shame,” Nathanial mutters.
“Now, children, we’re close to what has been in the making for years. The elf will help us.”
They all eye me and I shrink back.
“And what of the war at the borders with the elves?” Alexandar asks.
“Kill them all,” Nathanial says with a shrug, and my heart stops, eyes going to him. “We don’t need them.”
“Of course we don’t need them. They do have their uses though,” King Halen says, smirk on his face. “We can use this one in our negotiations, that’s why contracts have been sent. Isn’t that right, Alexandar?”
Contracts?
“Yes,” the man with the mismatched eyes responds.
“Maybe we should speed things along. Set up another meeting. One isn’t enough when you can have them all. Let her know we don’t have much patience.”
My throat tightens.
“And what do we do with her in the meantime?” Nathanial leans back, drink in hand. “Are we allowed to use her?”
A servant comes to his side, offering more wine and he takes the bottle, shoving her away with a scowl.
“No,” Halen says, his fork scraping the plate. “You can’t touch her yet, too soon to break her like that. I told you she is needed for a task.”
Nathanial grins, his teeth glinting in the candlelight. “This certainly gets interesting.”
My hands tremble in my lap at the look in his eyes. It makes me sick.
Rohan is related to these people?
“Uncle, is Savron coming today?” Nathanial asks.
“I think he’s helping at the Enclave today, making sure things are in order for the bets to begin,” Ivor replies.
“I see,” Nathanial says, jaw ticking.
“There are many preparations for The Games this year,” Halen says.
“We are very excited,” Lord Caswell raises his cup. “This year is set to be the most generous in coin.”
“Will I be able to wear my new dress, Daddy?”
The king smirks. “Of course, sweetheart. Only the best for my favorite girl.”
She beams at him, bouncing in her seat.
Alexandar places his glass down, then stands.
“Where are you going?” His father asks.
“To prepare to go to the border.”
His father nods in approval and Nathanial frowns.
“I’ll go with you.”
Alexandar pauses. “You know she won’t hear anything we say if you’re there. She hates you.”
“She hates both of us,” he corrects.
“I’ve known her longer.”
“So?”
Alexandar smirks. “I’m the better brother anyway.”
“Fuck you,” he hisses, glaring at Alexandar as he leaves.
“That’s enough, Nathanial. You can help prepare the guards, and then find a slave girl to fuck.”
“Father—”
“Enough!” he booms, slamming his hands on the table, causing me to jump, and the guards around the room to tense.
Nathanial stares at his father and then slumps in his seat. “Fine.”
“Good.” King Halen rises and comes around to where I sit. I shrink back in my seat. “Let’s go, elf, there is much to do, but first, you can bathe and change.” He pauses and eyes me, his smile is full of malice. “It’s time to start The Games.”