32. Chapter Thirty-Two Xander #2
The king’s chest heaves with labored breaths, a hand running through his hair as he growls his frustration out with every exhale.
Fists curling and uncurling at his sides, he turns towards the three of us, the feral rage in his hazel eyes one I’ve only ever seen once before.
The scars at my back twinge with a phantom pain beneath his stare, and as he rushes towards us, I know whatever is about to happen won’t be good.
“Sword!” he shouts, pointing to my sheathed weapon. I slide it free, barely having time to turn it over in my hand when he yanks it from my grasp. “Turn around.” Terror balloons in my gut, my eyes flicking up to the king’s. But he isn’t talking to me.
“Wh-what?” Jerrick asks, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.
“Turn around!” Lifting the sword, he points it directly at Jerrick’s neck, the Trusted guard’s steps faltering as he hesitates for another second before turning.
“Your Majesty,” Simon cuts in, his demeanor far more calm than I would have expected, “we can strategize—”
My throat closes as King Dolian swings, the blade of my sword colliding with the golden armor covering Jerrick’s back, ushering a resounding vibration of noise into the room.
“I’m done talking,” the king grunts, drawing the sword back.
Muscles twitch in my legs and fingers, the urge to stop him nearly overpowering my instincts.
It’s not that I particularly care if Jerrick gets hurt or dies—an extra spot in the Trusted for me to fill with a man of my own would be preferred.
It’s that I know the king won’t stop until blood is shed, and while he might take his frustrations out on Jerrick’s metal-clad body, it won’t be enough to satisfy the bloodthirsty look in his eyes.
He’ll turn his attention elsewhere, like toward two specific prisoners in the dungeon.
Jerrick’s body jerks forward as another hit comes, the king using the weapon more like a club than a blade of steel. With each swing, not only does the ringing in my ears intensify but the frown growing over Simon’s face does as well.
“The fucking prince has her,” King Dolian shouts between swings, metal-on-metal punctuating his words.
“They infiltrated my kingdom and stole my bride, and they will fucking pay!” Jerrick holds himself as still as he can, enduring the king’s anger as each hit comes harsher than the one before.
A sweat breaks out at King Dolian’s temples, but he doesn’t relent.
Not until Jerrick finally stumbles forward, dropping to his hands and knees as his shoulders lift with heavy breaths.
“Sire, let us discuss this,” Simon tries again, stepping forward.
King Dolian snaps his head in the advisor’s direction, spittle flying from his mouth with each full exhale, and the older man raises his hands in supplication, bowing his head.
“Hope is not lost. We now know with certainty where the princess is—”
“And what of the act of war committed by the Mage Kingdom?” Returning his attention to Jerrick, he drives the heel of his pristine boot into the Trusted’s side, sending him sprawling onto the ground.
He raises the sword overhead, and I suck in a sharp breath as it barrels down in a short arc, slamming over Jerrick’s chest. The force knocks the wind out of him, and he coughs and rolls to his side as King Dolian’s lips peel back from his teeth.
“She thinks she can run from me? From her destiny? She is meant to be at my side!” He pounds his free hand against his chest. “She belongs to me!” His voice echoes, and I wonder just how much can be heard beyond the thick double doors.
Simon steps calmly towards the king, hands clasping behind his back. “We will get her back. I’m sure Imelda can be broken further—” King Dolian growls at the old woman’s name, but Simon continues. “And then there is the shifter…”
The rest of his words become drowned out by the reckless way my heart beats.
Even with my anger towards our last interaction, a fate left in Simon’s hands is one that no one deserves.
But his words seem to have spurred something within King Dolian, and without relinquishing the sword, he walks towards the exit.
“I’ve had enough talking. It’s time to send a message. One that Her Highness will not be able to ignore.”
Leaving Jerrick groaning on the floor, I quickly follow Simon and the king, brushing off the curious gazes of those we pass as panic throttles my heart.
It amplifies as we continue towards the dungeon and turns my hands shaky when the king breezes past the first set of stationed guards and then the second, not slowing his furious pace as he descends the stairs loudly.
I pass Simon to catch up to the king, earning a grumble from the advisor.