11. Eleven
eleven
The stench down here was like a slap to the face.
Neira had never come to the dungeons before, had never had a reason to. She couldn't even remember the last time she had heard of anyone being imprisoned. It stank of mould, of rotting, of air centuries old.
She couldn't shake the distinct sense that she should not be here. No one should be here. They should turn around and go about their day and be happy-
No.
She would not turn back now. She had sat in that miserable little bedroom for two days before she'd been stripped naked and paraded in front of the entire court, naked and humiliated. And then Erqis had returned her to her own bedroom – much more comfortable but, while he was here, imprisonment just the same.
Neira deserved her revenge, and she craved it. And if it was to be found in these forsaken dungeons, it would be hers.
"Here we are," Erqis announced cheerily, leading her around a tight corner. They stood in the entrance of a wide, rectangular room, with barred cells around a raised, open middle. There was a long table, three chairs, and many hateful eyes glaring from behind the iron bars.
Glaring at her. Not at Erqis, the invading conqueror who had felled their king, taken all of them hostage and had most of the guards killed – her .
Neira's temper flared. It was so damn typical.
At the same time, something inside her shied away at the thought of actually exacting harm on these men herself. She felt like a child when she caught Erqis' sleeve, and stepped close so her voice wouldn't carry.
"I… I’ve actually never killed anyone before."
The look on his handsome face was pure delight. "Why, allow me the pleasure of teaching you! This will be fun. Come."
He wrapped his warm fingers around her cold hand and pulled her along, around the dais in the middle. Three cells had been filled; one held Captain Renger, chained to the wall by one wrist, another a pacing Lord Arwess. The third, a slightly larger one, held the rest of the regiars, as if Erqis' men had almost immediately grown bored of separating the lot.
"Which one do you want to start with?" The king asked. "You don't have to do all your revenging in one day, you know. You can keep a man alive and in agony for days ." He sounded as giddy as a child on their name day. “And there’s plenty of food to keep the others alive until it’s their turn.”
"I…" Her dark eyes immediately latched onto Renger and Arwess. Merryn didn't even cross her mind – the betrayal of the man who had defended her right before that fateful day cut so much deeper than a known coward's.
"No preference, pet? Well. Let’s begin with the easiest one." As soon as the lock turned, Arwess realised what was happening and began to wail.
"Princess! Your Highness, please, you don't understand! We did what we had to-"
"Did you know that cutting out a tongue doesn't actually keep a person from being an annoying cunt?" Erqis told Neira in a conversational tone that was very much at odds with Arwess’ screeching pleas. He pulled his dagger from the sheath at his hip. "It is a lot of fun though. Do you want to try?"
" Now you trust me with a knife?" Neira eyed the dagger dubiously. It was a beautiful weapon, the curved blade slender and sharp, the hilt decorated with small gems and golden whorls.
Erqis winked at her. "Just this once. It’s a special day, after all. Hmm... we’re missing something. Hold on." He sheathed his dagger to pull an open crate from under the long table and dropped it at her feet, then squatted down to rifle through it, soon holding up a pair of tongs triumphantly. "Ah-hah!"
Neira put a hand against his chest before he could approach the cowering regiar. "Wait." Erqis halted. The sudden rush of exhilaration at being obeyed without question made her light-headed. Her fingertips, positioned just so, slid against warm skin where the king's plain shirt gaped open, but her words were directed to the mewling coward who had turned against her. "Why did you betray me?"
"Princess-"
"I want the truth. Now, while you still have the facilities to speak it."
Arwess gasped for air like a fish on land. "You must understand-"
"I'm trying. Start talking."
"We just wanted what's best for the realm! Prince Ramin is king now, he is your father's heir-"
Erqis snorted. "A child is easier to control than a grown woman, right?"
"Yes!" Arwess paled when he realised what he'd just admitted to in his panic.
Icy fury crystallised on Neira’s face. She lifted her hand from Erqis' chest, where it had rested on a thick pectoral until now. Her fingers immediately felt colder again. "I have heard all I need to."
"Wonderful. Watch closely, darling."
Her heart jumped into her throat at the swiftness of his actions, at the casual brutality; Erqis smashed the man across the head with the heavy tongs and while Arwess was still reeling, Erqis’ free hand cruelly grasped his jaw and forced his mouth open. With no regard to any damage he was doing to the regiar's teeth, Erqis jammed the tongs between the rows and when he pulled back, the sinews of his exposed forearm a stark relief under his sun-tanned skin, the man's tongue was caught between the pincers.
"You want to keep a tight hold of this for a clean cut. It’s slippery, and surprisingly strong. I'll hold it for you this time."
She flinched a little when Erqis yanked the straining muscle out further, the regiar's yelp oddly muffled. With his hands chained behind his back, he couldn’t do much more than thrash about.
Erqis clicked his tongue. "Don't stand there like a newborn fawn. Take the dagger. Dominant hand, obviously."
Lord Arwess was trembling, staring at them wild-eyed, drenched. Erqis had one hand on his shoulder, pinning him against the rough stone wall. Neira approached slowly, edging carefully around the crate.
A crate full of torture instruments, she realised. Torture instruments she could use on people she had known her whole life.
Her fingers were trembling; she had to rest them against Erqis' waist, soaking up his warmth to keep herself steady before she pulled the dagger from its sheath. It truly was beautiful. Even in the dim light the gems glinted, and this close she could see delicate engravings on the blade itself.
When she met Erqis' eyes again, he was smiling. "Don't stab me, darling."
For the first time, she didn't want to. This lesson was far more thrilling.
"Set the blade against the top of the tongue and press down while pulling back. You could go from underneath, but you have less control that way and might take the tip of his nose off." Erqis grinned at the trembling man. "We wouldn't want that, right?"
Arwess made another choking sound. Neira's throat felt too dry suddenly, her nerves jittering, but she set the blade carefully regardless.
"Don't flinch," Erqis whispered loudly, head bent close to Arwess' ear. "The princess needs a win. Nice and calm, now, that’s a good man."
Neira glowered at him and then sliced. The blade glided through the muscle easily, drawing a blood-curdling scream from Arwess – one single, deep cut to make up for years and years of small ones she had suffered from this man's condescension, wielded then like the dagger she wielded now.
Gods, it felt like freedom.
Erqis grinned, tossing the tongs over his shoulder with the severed, bloody tongue still pinned in them. His free hand dove under Neira’s shirt to rest on her hip, pulling her to stand between him and a whimpering Arwess.
"Good work," he murmured, his voice against her ear like dark velvet on her skin. "You're a fast learner."
The golden stubble on his chin just barely grazed her neck, the phantom touch tightening her nipples.
She wanted that mouth between her thighs.
As if he knew every thought in her head, knew the reason why she shifted against him, Erqis chuckled, dipping his head to trail his lips along the bared curve of her shoulder. His fingers tightened on her hip. "Cut him again."
"He had only the one tongue," Neira replied tartly, because that was all the defence she had against him. Erqis draped himself against her back until he could press his cheek to hers, his hand sliding across her belly to loop around her fully. She had to lock her knees to not waver in his arms.
"He has more dangly bits, you know. All you need is a bit of bravery and one flick of your wrist."
"You don't have to make this disgusting ."
She felt his laugh against her back more than she heard it. "Fair enough. Cut his throat, then."
Arwess began shouting, but without a tongue, it was only sound. No words. Never again words.
The satisfaction of that was rival to the thrill of Erqis' hands on her.
Neira set the blade against the regiar's bobbing throat, intending to make another precise incision. But as that first prick of dark blood welled on the regiar’s skin, her rage surged, burning through the numb that had settled over her these past few days.
Her father was dead. Ramin's fate was undecided, and Safir with him. Her people, if there were even any left, would have to yield to a new rule – and what would happen to her?
Most of this could have been avoided if this pathetic bastard had just listened to her, had helped her.
She pressed the dagger’s point in, deep, deeper , and then she plunged the blade into the regiar’s throat. Again. Again. Again . Over and over until the gurgling had long stopped and his throat was a dark, minced mess.
"Well then. That's one way to do it." Erqis was watching her warily when she turned to him, the dagger clasped in her hand by her side. Behind her, the body fell to the floor. He wiped a dark splatter of blood from underneath her eyes. "Feel better?"
She could stab him now.
It would be easy if she was fast, and then she'd make a mess of him like she had made a mess of Arwess, and then…
And then?
She was still trying to work out what would happen then when Erqis gently pried the dagger from her numb fingers.
"Yes." Her throat felt raw, like she’d been screaming.
"Do you have one more in you?"
The thought of Captain Renger, the way he had handled her, had delighted in watching her stripped naked, the way he had laughed as he had her dragged from the room to be paraded in front of Erqis...
Neira had never realised how serene white-hot rage could feel. "I do."
"You're a fucking bitch," the captain spat at her when Erqis unlocked the next cell. Arwess had been free to pace, but Renger had been fixed to the wall with a short chain, allowing him a roam of a mere two feet. For the best, too, because he seemed willing to tear his arm off just to get at her. "I should have strangled you when I had the chance."
"What a great idea, actually." Erqis gestured Neira into the cell with a bow that couldn’t have been more elegant if he had been asking her to dance. "Mastering the art of strangulation is a worthy task indeed."
"The art of strangulation?" Neira scoffed. "What makes it an art? It seems rather brutish and simple."
The way the Grey King’s bright eyes glinted spelled trouble for her. Pride locked her knees in place when he reached for her; his long fingers gently wrapped around her throat, his thumb stroking her suddenly racing pulse. It was tender, intimate, as if they were the only people here. The dungeon fell away, and Renger's furious ranting.
"What makes it an art is the variety," Erqis murmured, tightening his grip just enough to make her breath catch. "Knowing where, how hard and how long to press can make someone see stars – or nothing at all."
She swallowed, felt the motion keenly against his palm. Heat flared between them again, feeling so much like fury that they had to be born from the same place inside her soul.
His fingers shifted to the outside of her neck and applied gentle, steady pressure.
"These are the spots you use for recreational activities." Erqis leaned down, brought his lips close to her ear, each word caressing the sensitive shell as Neira stood, frozen in his grasp. "No need to press too hard. Everything goes a little soft around the edges, a little dreamy. You wouldn't believe how hard you can come when your pretty little head isn't quite sure whether or not you’re currently dying."
He loosened his grasp. The sudden rush of blood and oxygen made Neira sway, grasping him for support. Erqis kept a loose grip with one hand on her waist, the other curling around the curve of her shoulder. His lips stroked her neck again and, with how light-headed she suddenly felt, that produced an almost violent, full-body shudder.
"Now, to strangle someone to death – like our good friend Renger here – you'll have to grip a little harder." Fast as a striking snake, Erqis grabbed the front of the man's throat. Renger made a choking sound, his eyes immediately bulging. His free hand came up to defend himself, but panic made him scrabble feebly. "It also takes a lot longer, several minutes, and you can’t relax your grip. It's easier with a rope, of course, or some other strip of fabric, but…"
Once again Erqis positioned her in front of him. He took one of her hands,, lifted it high enough to press a kiss to the back of her fingers, and then led her to take his place at Renger's throat. Her own fingers felt woefully too short to hit all the spots Erqis had shown her, so Neira grabbed her unfortunate prey with both hands.
Emboldened enough to conquer the instinctive panic for a moment, Renger made a desperate grab for the princess’s throat. Whether to choke her in return or try to snap her neck, no one would know, because Erqis tutted with disapproval before, faster than Neira could even track, plunging his dagger into the captain’s shoulder at such an angle, and with such a casually vicious twist, that Renger’s arm immediately dropped, useless, to his side.
"Doing it with your own two hands is much, much more satisfying," Erqis continued, casually tucking an escaped strand of hair behind her ear.
"Strangled a lot of people?" She murmured, trying to find the perfect grip around the man's thick neck. Already, her shoulders ached with the strain.
"I prefer immolation, but you know what they say – variety is the spice of life. Harder, love, he's still wheezing."
He was. Neira frowned and readjusted her grip, but no matter what she did, she couldn't fully cut off the man's air.
"How long does this take?"
Erqis chuckled. "A while. It’s not as simple as it looks. Would you like me to help?"
She didn't. She wanted to do it herself. It was her revenge, after all. With a snarl, Neira stiffened her fingers and stabbed them at Renger’s face. One sank deep into his eye – she felt it rupture, and she could practically taste his scream.
"Gods below, Neira. You're a vicious little thing, aren't you?" Erqis sounded positively delighted. "Remind me to stay out of your way. Here, hold on." He side-stepped her and wrapped his arm around Renger’s neck from behind. Blood was gushing down the man's face, and his sounds of agony were cut off efficiently by the crook of Erqis’ elbow.
Neira huffed, wiping her fingers on Renger's shirt, her gaze fixed on his face. If she couldn’t strangle him to death herself, she at least wanted to watch every second of it.
Erqis had been right. It took a while. Renger's face turned red, then purple, then tinted blue, and still he was trying to gasp for air like a fish on dry land, his remaining eye bulging and bloodshot. Drool poured from his mouth, mixed with blood. His chains rattled as his entire body convulsed, but other than that, it was a pretty quiet affair.
"Thank you," Neira said quietly, without taking her eyes off the spectacle. "I think I needed this."
Erqis shrugged, his easy grin sliding back into place. He seemed no worse for wear, keeping a steady pressure. "A bit of wholesome revenge always cheers me up, too. Don't mention it."
Neira felt the corners of her lips twitch, and before she knew it, she was smiling. Truly, from the heart. She hadn't done that in a long while.
"And, you know…" Strangely enough, there was something like awe on his face as he looked at her. "If you need another reason to smile, there's a cell full of bastards just over there who are practically begging to be murdered. Just as an option."
Neira returned her gaze to Renger's face. His remaining eye had rolled up, his limbs hanging limp. Erqis was the only thing holding him up now.
"I might just take you up on that."