Chapter Fourteen
Rhael
The walls did not bleed when I struck them, even though I had wanted them to.
Stone shattered beneath my fists, cracks spiralling across the black stone looking like spiderwebs.
The impact reverberated up my arm, the pain sharp and immediate but I ignored it.
I even welcomed it, pain was good, I needed pain at that moment.
I snarled and drove my shoulder into the nearest table, sending it across the chamber as glass shattered. Ink splattered across the wall and pooled onto the floor, another chair exploded as I kicked it aside. My wings remained unfurled from my back.
Large black, leather looking, appendages pushed from my back where I usually kept them hidden. However, in times like this I didn't have the strength to focus on keeping them tucked away. Instead, I focused everything I had on the rage and anger I was taking out on anything I could find.
It still wasn't enough. The pain and violence didn't do anything to take away from the anger raging through me. An hour ago, another messenger had confirmed the attack had been pushed back. But Noctharis had once again claimed the lives of people who did not deserve to die.
My people had perished while I waited, negotiated, I had to play King instead of executioner.
I roared, the sound ripping free from my throat likening me to some caged animal rather than a King. The shadows surged in response, clinging to my skin as if trying to pull it free from the muscle. I wanted blood, I needed it.
I needed to see the blood of my enemies, dripping down my hands and pooling at the floor, whilst my sword lay embedded in their chest. I would not be able to relax until the threat was gone. Dead.
I knew I could not protect them yet, my people would continue to die until the bridges I had burned were rebuilt and I was only one step closer which was not even close to enough. I yelled out again throwing a glass against the wall, watching it shatter with a satisfying thud.
We had removed the threat this time, sent them from our lands, tracking them back to the edge of Noctharis.
The cowards had not waited to face us. Instead, they scurried back in the cover of darkness.
The casualties had thankfully been low, with only two of my people missing, but that did not lessen the blow.
The anger had come not long after I had returned. So, I had retreated to my office, deciding to take it out on the furniture rather than some poor suspecting noble or soldier. As uncontrollable as the rage now was, I knew no one deserved that.
I turned only as the door creaked open, my chest heaving. My eyes were red, bloodshot, bruises and cuts over my hands where I had picked up and thrown already shattered glass.
“Leave,” I warned, barely recognising the hoarse sound that was my voice.
“Not until you are calm, brother.” My sister's voice filtered through the silence, soft and gentle.
I turned to see Olesia standing in the doorway. Her brunette hair loose down her back, eyes blazing with concern and almost a fury that matched my own. She took in the damage around me and didn't flinch, of anyone in Vaetharyn, she was used to this.
“You do not need to see this,” I warned. In my mind my younger sister was still too innocent to experience my rage, she was too pure, too gentle. Even though I knew she had experienced it before, heard my rage, I did not want her to actually see it. Not until I was in control.
“Let me help,” she whispered, walking into the room. Her slipper clad feet crunching over the shattered glass.
“No!” I snapped, the word was immediate, absolute. There was no way I would let my sister be involved in this. She was all I had left.
“You do not know what I was going to offer,” she whispered, stopping as she stepped in front of me. Her hands reached to hold mine, I knew her intention. She wanted to heal the cuts I had caused.
“I know enough,” I whispered, my eyes narrowed as I pulled my hands from her grasp. I did not want her to heal me, the pain was the only thing keeping me level.
“You are not the only one here Rhael.” Olesia sighed, waving her hands in the air as she took a step back, relinquishing her desire to heal my wounds.
“You are not riding into enemy territory, you have no place in this war.” I warned, my eyes fixing on hers as I stood a little taller. Olesia had her ways to get me to give in, but on this I would not allow her to be pulled into this war. She was to be kept safe.
“I am not asking to ride into battle. But I want to help, let me do something. Advise, strategize, anything.” She said, looking up at me with those pale blue eyes, dark lashes fluttering as she blinked. This was the way she always was when I told her no, but I wouldn't give in. Not this time.
“Like I did for Averan? That role is more useless than you know,” I muttered, mindlessly picking glass out of my hand. The role of the King's nearest sibling was not as glamorous as anyone made it out to be.
“Averan chose his path. You can choose yours,” she whispered, sounding irritated and exasperated. She was tired of my dark mood, I knew it, everyone knew it
“I am aware, and I watched him die for it!” I snapped my tone harsher than I had used with her before. I knew it was wrong, but she had to learn, this was not a game anymore.
I wasn't the brother who could run around after her and play in the gardens. I was King, and I needed to act like it. She also needed to learn what it took to rule, if she ever found herself in my position, I wanted her more prepared than I had been. Maybe then she would fuck it up less than I had.
“You cannot protect everyone by locking them away.” Olesia told me. She was right, and I hated it.
“I can protect you,” I said firmly, my eyes fixed on hers. Olesia had always been the baby of the family and despite there now only being two of us she still was in many ways.
After Averan’s death, I had made sure she wanted for nothing. She was twenty now, old enough to understand her place in the world, old enough to know better than to keep pushing me.
Yet something in the way she looked at me, as if I was still the big brother who could put her on his shoulders and play make believe to chase away the monsters under her bed, hurt me more than anything.
“If you keep pushing me away you will end up alone,” she cursed anger filtering into her tone mixing with her frustration. Part of me had even expected her to stamp her foot.
Instead, she stood there perfectly still and composed, reason lingering in her words, but I was not ready. I doubted I ever would be. This was too much too soon, too dangerous. I would keep her safe. I needed to keep her safe.
“I will not risk you, you are not ready and I will not lose the only sibling I have left,” I ground out, my irritation rising. She didn't understand, no one would. She had not found our brother's body, she didn't hold him limp and lifeless in her arms.
The images of my brother once again grew in my mind, blinding me to anything else. It was torture, pure and painful torture I would never escape from. My hands flew to my head, pressing into my temples as I attempted to push back the images, the smell of his blood and the way he felt in my arms.
“And that brother, is exactly the reason that you will end up alone.” Olesia whispered with one final sigh, turning and walking through the broken room and closing the door behind her.
I was alone once more and I felt my knees grow weak as I slid to the floor, my back pressed against the wall as I sat amongst the destruction I had created.
In my moment of true weakness, Elara’s face joined the images circling my mind.
Her defiance, even when she should have been afraid of me, and how that day she had run from the hall without a second glance.
Everything about the human had been a distraction since I had gotten her from that fucking market.
I clenched my jaw. Deep down I hated that her presence somehow managed to cut through the numbness I had spent years perfecting.
My thoughts wandered to the way she had stood in the main hall at Lycanthyr. The way she had walked towards me, despite the monsters around her. What concerned me more was the way she felt sat in my lap, the performance she had put on, pressing against me as she let my hands move freely.
I let a curse fall from my lips as the raging hard on in my pants, contrasted with every other emotion I was feeling.
The piercing I had got as a rebellious teenager digging into my pants, causing the most delicious pain.
Quickly I tried to think of anything else.
I did not need to be hard over a woman that was merely a necessary means to an end.
That was the whole reason I had given her pleasure but not taken any for myself.
If I allowed that, I would turn soft and I could not afford softness.
Slowly I stood, taking a deep breath as I straightened, forcing the shadows into stillness, trying to get my breathing under control.
I knew the vampires would come again and when they did, I would need to be ready, alliances or not.
Even if it meant hardening my heart to burn everything to the ground.
Including her. Especially her.