Chapter 9 The Dark King
Verena
T he gentle timbre of Hadeon’s voice pulls me from my dream, coaxing me back into the waking world. As I stir, he shook me with more urgency until I swat his hand away in annoyance. Before I can ask what was wrong, he presses a finger to his lips and motions toward the trees where the murmur of voices can be heard. His hand found its way over my mouth as if to silence any potential protest, and I follow his gaze with trepidation. The shadows dance and twist among the foliage, hinting at unseen figures lurking within. Every rustle of leaves sent a shiver down my spine and I realize we are not alone in this peaceful glade.
The sun was coming out now and we both gather anything resting on the forest floor before rushing off further North.
“They made it far,” I speak when we are out of earshot, hopefully making it further than they are. “How much farther do we have until we get to the border?” I ask him.
“Another two days at least. We’ll have to find resources soon. Did you pack any food?” I nod to his question before grabbing some rations from my pack with water from a skin.
The farthest I had ever been on foot was maybe an hour from the castle and my mother punished me for it since it’s dangerous. But, it didn’t make it the last .
Thinking back to the day Hadeon saved me as I wandered around the city alone, no matter how hard I concentrate, I can’t remember why I was out there. But it was the first day I truly knew the danger my title held. I was trying to find something, as if I was in a trance, and before I could find it, I was attacked.
My first meeting with Hadeon is a treasured memory to me; he was young and one of the most handsome fae I had ever met, yes, but there was something about him. I wasn’t sure if he felt it too but I know I could sense something familiar about him, something that always made me feel at ease and at home. Having him with me for the past five years has been a blessing. He truly was my only friend, aside from Dryston’s sister.
Five years had passed since everything changed in my mind. I found myself speaking up more, but with each word came a punishment from Dryston. Yet, I refused to let his manipulation control me completely. I was starting to find my own voice and identity, even though it went against everything I had been taught.
And now that I’m finally free? Well, that part hasn’t hit yet, I’m still trying not to die in the woods during the manhunt that has us now running toward our supposed enemy lines.
“Do you know of the king?” I ask out loud, his head jerks toward me in surprise.
After coughing from the piece of food in his throat, he answers, “More than most.” His tone said to not ask further but I needed to know.
“And? What about him? We are going into enemy lines, Hadeon. I need to know if I’m on a suicide mission or not.” A large sigh escapes him and he shakes his head, as if unsure of what to say.
“King Eryx, or the Dark King as some call him, is rumored to hate women. He doesn’t even take lovers, so they say. But once, Eryx saw a woman in trouble at a little pub in some small town. And even though everyone thinks he hates females, he beat the fae male who was antagonizing her so far into the ground his own family couldn’t recognize him. His face was smashed in.” I shiver at the thought, “Not that they wanted to since their son was a rapist.” The faraway look in his eyes was familiar to me .
“Eryx? You speak of him like you truly know him.” I say with raised brows. His eyes meet mine before he shakes his head like he was dismissing his own thoughts. He lets out a light scoff as if I were delusional. I speak again. “Wasn’t he betrothed once before? And she died right? Did he kill her?” I ask, the questions spilling from my lips.
“That’s what the rumors say…” He trails off and I realize he doesn’t want to talk anymore about it. But I wasn’t done this time. I need to know for my own safety.
As we trek on, I continue. “Have you ever seen him aside from the gala? I heard he was hideous but I’ve also heard he’s so beautiful that human women die at his feet from the beauty.”
“What do you think of him? You did dance with the king at the gala.” I scoff at the change in conversation. I don’t want to talk about me. He continues, “He seemed quite entranced with you.”
“I do not know what you are talking about.” He gives me a pointed look at my feigned ignorance.
“Verena, please do not take this any specific way but you are one of the prettiest beings I’ve ever seen. That alone will have given him curiosity. But, your energy and your charisma are exquisite. You’re smart and kind. Not to mention you have never fit in with the Court of Dawn or anyone in Zorya. I am your only friend, no offense.”
“A little taken.” I cut in, giving him a smile.
“ But , it is simply because you do not belong there and they do not deserve you.”
How could he possibly know where I belong? Hadeon grew up in a small Zoryan town. Why would he say these things about his own home? A small part of me wants to second-guess my friendship with him, maybe he isn’t who he says he is.
Growing up in this country, I always felt like an outsider. But Hadeon was the one person who understood me, who shared my feelings of displacement. Our friendship was a refuge from the judgmental eyes and whispers of others. Yet, as I look at him now, I can’t shake off the feeling that he’s been keeping secrets from me. Why is he so distant from everyone else? And why did he risk everything to save me that day? Is there more to our relationship than just friendship? Despite my trust in him, doubts begin to creep into my mind.
“I definitely do not believe the king to be ugly.” A blush creeps up my cheeks as I speak honestly. Hadeon looks at me, brow raised as if to question me. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve seen many Khyrelians. He was different, his energy darker in a good way.” My eyes stay distant as I think back to a couple of days ago. “The urge to dance with him was so strong. I had never felt anything like it. And when we danced?” For a moment, I didn’t feel as if I were in the woods with Hadeon escaping our fate in the Zoryan Court of Dawn, I was back in the throne room, spinning around with the most gorgeous male I had ever witnessed. The same male who complimented me as if he were compelled to do so and-
“And when you danced?” He asked, a playful twinkle in his eye as he gave me a knowing look. I shove him.
“Shut up,” I laugh and brush it off, “I don’t know. It was weird. He was weird, right?” I say, changing my tune and closing off again.
Hadeon laughs lowly, “Yeah. He was weird.” He smirks to himself but we say nothing else.
Every fiber of my being was unsettled by this situation. It left me with a sense of unease that I can’t shake. As I mull over my decision to leave the Court of Dawn, one question plagues me: had I made a grave mistake?
We keep trekking through the woods, changing up our paces and foot steps every so often to keep hunters off our trail. I wasn’t daft enough to believe Dryston wouldn’t send hunters after his prized possession.
The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath our feet are the only sounds that broke the silence between us. The tension in the air was thick, weighted down by unspoken truths and lingering doubts. I stole a glance at Hadeon, his eyes fix ahead with a determined focus, his jaw set in a firm line. Despite the gravity of our situation, a small flicker of admiration sparks within me as I watch him lead us through the dense forest with unwavering confidence.
As we travel deeper into the woods, my mind wanders back to our conversation about King Eryx. The enigmatic ruler had always been shroud in mystery, his reputation precedes him wherever his name was spoken. The conflicting tales surrounding him paint a complex picture that left me more intrigued than ever.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost don’t notice when Hadeon suddenly stops in his tracks, causing me to bump into him. His hand shot out to steady me, and he places a finger to his lips, signaling for me to be silent. I follow his gaze and feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach at the sight before us.
Through the thick foliage, we can see a group of armed men clad in the colors of the Zoryan Court of Dawn. They move with purpose, their eyes scanning the surroundings as they search for any sign of us. My breath catches in my throat as I realized we are dangerously close to being caught.
Hadeon’s expression hardens as he turns to me, his eyes conveying a silent urgency that fuel my determination. Without a word, he gestures for us to change course, leading us deeper into the undergrowth to evade our pursuers.
As we navigate through the dense forest, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs reverberate through the tense silence that envelope us. I can feel the weight of our predicament pressing down on me, a constant reminder of the perilous game we are entangled in.
The sound of footsteps drawing closer behind us spur us to quicken our pace, our hearts pounding in unison with the echoing drumbeats of fear. We dart through the trees, our breaths coming out in frantic gasps as we struggle to maintain our advantage. The intensity of the chase only heighten as the branches claw at our skin and the roots threaten to trip us with every step.
A sudden clearing ahead offered a brief respite, a small pocket of safety in the vast expanse of the forest. Hadeon grabs my hand without hesitation, his touch grounding me in the midst of chaos. Without a word, we sprint toward the open space, our muscles burning with exertion as we push ourselves to the limit.
As we burst into the clearing, a sense of relief wash over me briefly before being replaced by a sinking realization. Before us stands not a sanctuary but a trap, a circle of Zoryan hunters waiting with weapons drawn and grim determination etched on their faces. I turn to Hadeon, panic rising in my chest as I search his eyes for a plan, for a way out of this dire situation. But instead of fear or despair, I saw a steely resolve glinting in his gaze, a spark of defiance that spurs me to stand taller beside him.
As the hunters close in around us, their leader steps forward with a menacing sneer curling his lips. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He taunts, relishing in our cornered state. “It seems the little traitors thought they could escape the wrath of the Court.”
I feel a surge of anger boiling within me at his words, at the injustice of being hunted like prey for a crime we didn’t commit. But before I can retort, Hadeon steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“You would believe that, Dorian, “ I say, recognizing his face from the castle. “But Dryston is not the man you think he is. He is not the king you believe him to be.”
“Traitors will say anything to defy the king. You both should be hung. But I’ll take great pleasure in bringing you back dead instead of alive.” He pulls his sword from its sheath, aiming for us.
Hadeon, sensing the danger, quickly moves from behind me and positions his body in front of mine, taking the brunt of the hunter’s attack. The sword swings down, and I brace myself for the impact, but Hadeon’s reflexes are too quick. He deflects the blade with his own sword, the force of the collision echoing through the clearing. A momentary lapse of surprise flickers across Dorian’s face before he charges at us again, renewed in his determination to capture us or end our lives.
“Escape while you can!” Hadeon shouts at me, pushing me toward the edge of the clearing. I know he is forcing me away from danger, but I can’t leave him behind. With a cry of defiance, I run back toward him. The hunters close in on us again, their weapons ready. But this time, I am ready too.
“Not a chance!” I tell him, before joining the fray of the fight. I use the training he’s given me and put it to good use to help get us out of this alive.
The clashing of our swords against theirs fills the air, a deafening symphony of steel and determination. Sparks fly as blades collide, the scent of blood and sweat permeating the clearing. Amidst the chaos, Hadeon and I form a united front against our pursuers, our bond strengthened by our shared purpose.
Each strike was calculated, each parry a testament to our training and skill. We dance around the hunters, our moves fluid and precise, the rhythm of our blades harmonizing with the pounding of the hunters’ feet on the hard earth.
In the midst of the fray, I caught a glimpse of Dorian, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and hatred. He had not expected this resistance, and the surprise was evident in his struggle. But we will not relent. We press on, our resolve greater than our exhaustion.
As the last few hunters fall, I want to smile in victory, but do not have time before seeing Hadeon’s eye widen at the sight behind me but I move out of the way, ducking and rolling to the side before I can be impaled by a sword. I swipe my sword out in defense, slicing across his legs and when he drops, I stab my blade through his chest, apologetic tears in my eyes before I blink them away.
It is either us or them. I have to keep that in mind.