Let the Hunt Continue #2
“We kill them,” I say with the confidence of a young boy who knows what his father wants to hear. “They are in the wrong, Your Majesty. You are the king. They shouldn’t fight against you.”
“That is correct.”
My chest puffs up with pride.
King Andreas stops in front of a cell where a naked, bloody woman is kneeling in the middle of the floor, her wrists chained in front of her. Her back is covered in red stripes, and her hair is bloodied and grimy. A wilted rose is tattooed on her left shoulder, the ink stark against her pale skin.
Four Protectors stand guard on either side of the cell, and they dip their heads towards the king.
The prisoner looks up. Even though she’s bloody and weak, her eyes harden. “You,” she snarls. “You have made a mockery of Esyn’s blessings. You are not Blessed, not with the way you treat the others . . .”
She continues blathering on, but my father ignores her, so I do the same. I watch as the king extends a hand, and dark green, almost black sparks erupt from his palm.
“You will regret this,” the woman continues as my father gathers his magic. “You can’t keep Harvesting power without consequences. The gods will not allow—”
Her words end in a bloody gurgle as the king’s power slams into her, ripping her head from her shoulders. Blood sprays, a crimson rain that reaches me where I stand.
King Andreas smirks at the sight of the dead woman, and then he turns to me.
“Remember this, Andreas. One person may seem inconsequential, but should they rise at the right moment, they can cause a ripple effect that will be felt through the kingdom. This is why we rule with an iron fist: so that no one and nothing can ever stand against us.”
My father crossed the Veil five years before my son Severus was born, but I will never forget his teachings. He was right that day.
One person can ruin everything, which is why I need to find the gods-blessed who is threatening to destroy everything I’ve built.
“Open it,” I command.
The Protectors hurry to obey. The cell door swings open, and I stride inside. The prisoner’s chains clatter as his eyes land on me.
I click my tongue. Shadow obeys the order, flying off my shoulder to perch on a stone jutting from the wall. My eagle stares at the prisoner with disgust, his eyes rubies of hatred.
The swaying man trembles, his gaze flicking wildly from my familiar back to me.
“Please, Your Majesty. King Andreas. I don’t know why I’m here.” Tears stream down his face, mingling with blood and snot.
Gods-damned weakling.
I circle him, a predator watching its prey. “You don’t?”
“No, my king.”
I tilt my head. “What’s your name?”
“Samuel,” the prisoner replies shakily. “Samuel LeClair. I swear, Your Majesty, I’m a good citizen. I pay my taxes, and I’ve never once complained about anything. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
“Is it?” I halt in front of Samuel and lift a brow. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“You mean it, sire? You’ll help me?” The eager, hopeful look in his eyes is fucking pathetic.
“I’ll find out why you’re here.”
Samuel exhales, a broken, pitiful sound that has my blood boiling. “Thank you, King Andreas. Thank you so much. You are so kind . . .”
The chains rattle as I approach, hands engulfed in crimson flames.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he screams. “Please, no.”
He keeps blathering. Pleading, as if I care what he says.
I step closer, looming over him. “I’d tell you this wouldn’t hurt, but then I’d be lying.”
I reach for the prisoner, digging my nails into his face. He screams, and the scent of burning hair and flesh mingles with the acrid stench of piss.
Disgust swirls in my gut. All these unmarked people are the same—weak and useless. They are nothing compared to me.
Samuel wails, frail and thready.
“Hold still,” I tut. “This will only take a moment.”
The prisoner is unmarked and has no trace of magic within him, so he has no mental barriers. Nothing to stop me from using my favorite method of interrogation for those who are born without magic, the easiest way for me to learn all his secrets.
I unleash my power, crimson spearing from my fingers into Samuel’s mind. A scream rips from the center of his being, and his eyes bulge as he claws at the chains.
I pay him no heed as I delve into his mind, desperately seeking the memories I need. I look beyond the way he wept and begged while he was transported here, sift past the soldiers dragging him from his place of business, until I find what I’m looking for.
A hooded couple, entering a dark establishment. The shorter of the two keeps their head down, but there is no mistaking the other.
I growl, my fingertips damp as I press them further into the prisoner’s mind. Fury pulses through me at the familiar sight of blue-black hair and green eyes.
Gods-damned bastard. I should’ve killed him the moment that whore dropped him at the foot of my throne.
I dig through Samuel’s memory with increased vigor. The innkeeper won’t survive much longer, and I need to get all the information I can from him. I pluck at his memories, picking them apart and inspecting every second of my son’s stay at Samuel’s inn.
The Given was there with Gabriel. There are glimpses of her in Samuel’s memory, moments where they spoke.
The Blessed bitch who stole my magic.
I dig and dig until Samuel’s screaming stops, his struggles cease, and his mind turns black. Only then do I withdraw my hands, stepping back.
The innkeeper’s head hangs limply. Rivers of blood stream from every orifice, coating him in crimson. Wiping my hands on a handkerchief, I step out of the cell without a backwards glance. Shadow caws, his wings flapping as he flies after me, landing on my shoulder.
“Dispose of the body,” I instruct the guards. “Then meet me upstairs.”
Standing a few feet away, pressed against the wall with a view into the cell, is every member of my council. Their faces are pale, but none of them flinch as I stride past them. They fall in step.
“Call the captain of my guard,” I tell Samir. “Get the head priestess as well. My son and the Blessed were last seen outside Moorn.”
Samir nods, and I continue barking orders.
The Hunter thinks he can hide from me with paltry magic and conceal the Given, but he’s wrong. I am the gods-damned king of this country, and no one can stay away from me. Not forever.
As I ascend the steps back into Rose Palace, a smile tugs on my lips. Between the messages I’ve been sending the wayward Hunter and this, I am certain I will find them soon.
Let the hunt continue.