Chapter Two The High Kings Rage
"To live is so startling, it leaves little time for anything else."
CW: Torture
The burning of Lord Elsmere's brothel reach the ears of the king before Adan had even stepped foot on castle grounds.
She had hoped she could have had time for a quick wash, too at least hide the smell of burning embers on her leathers.
The High King's son; Darius, was already waiting for her at the gates.
If there was anyone she hated as much as the king, it was his son.
Darius was a young ripe prick. The arrogance of being the first born and only prince didn't so much as cover the young heir's cockiness.
The male had the world at his feet, and he fucking knew it.
It oozed out of his very being like a sickness that chocked Adan with every breath.
Not because she was jealous of his station.
She dislike most if not all of the bourgeoisie.
She had very visceral reasons to hate Darius, his vileness not withstanding.
"You're in trouble." He sing-sung with a smirk as he leaned up against the castle gates, no guards insight, no doubt to hide his wickedness that he saved only for her.
She might have called him handsome if she had never heard him speak.
His thick auburn hair rustled in the summer wind.
His strong jaw that steeled when he smiled, illuminating perfect white teeth and strong dimples, the lush mouth that framed it all.
It was the hard, cold reddish brown eyes—almost black—that should have been warm but were pure ice that was his tell.
The fucking sadist.
She straightened her spine and tipped her chin up as she brushed past him. She knew it was a stupid act of defiance that would only get her in deeper, but she couldn't help herself. Her stubbornness is and always was her downfall.
She was whipped back into his chest as he pulled at her wrist, fast enough to rip her shoulder clean from its socket.
She did not make a sound, she knew from experience it was what he wanted.
He like plucking the wings off creatures weaker than him, and hearing them cry.
Even if they were stronger—bigger—he was the heir and prince of Lymia, they were powerless against him.
If only the fear of his father kept them at bay.
"My father is very angry, it seems." Adan wanted to roll her eyes at the prince, and ask when was he ever in a good mood.
She knew the answer and she knew the consequences if she so much as uttered the words.
So she kept silent, her chin still high and her back ram rod straight.
Even as the scent of the prince waved up her nose making her want to gag.
She stayed pulled against his chest, completely emotionless.
Locked behind her mask and her mental walls.
"He has summoned you and his court to the throne room."
Adan's eyelashes fluttered in shock and Darius smirked at her tell.
It was one thing to be summoned in private, but the entire court. Adan stomped down the urge to shiver.
"Yes." Darius's smirk was a wide grin now as he read everything on her face.
He released her wrist and she knew there would be a bruise from his grip.
She moved to turn towards the castle doors and he pushed her forward causing her to stumble slightly.
His dark laugh had her hackles rising. Everything about this male had her entire being wanting to scratch his eyes out.
It was an exercise in restraint that she never acted on the impulse.
To attack the prince was certain death. Death would be better than this life she had created for herself.
The clipped sounds of the princes polished boots echoed behind her, corralling her towards certain doom.
She knew the way forwards to the throne room and let her feet carry her.
All the while she worked hard on her mind, preparing it for the kings power.
She ignored the sneering faces of the court as she walked towards the throne.
The walk was like a death march, one she knew well and that had followed her every day for the last twenty years.
It was just past mid day but the tall walls that held floor to ceiling windows were covered in dark red velvet drapes, block out all natural light.
The only rays of light came from the Undine that were trapped inside the kings ornate chandeliers and the sconces around the room.
The Undine from Shadow House are slaves for their power; light, glowing and warm and used for the purpose of lighting up room, or streets.
Where ever the king deems their power most useful.
It comes as no surprise that they are not stationed in the Loch, but only the most prestigious neighbourhoods in the City of Bones.
There must have been at least a hundred locked in glass cages in this room alone.
All because their previous head of house helped them in a rebellion, and failed.
Their master died and they were all imprisoned.
Adan kept her head forward, until her knee dropped to the hard polished wood floor of the throne room.
Her head dropping with it, her eyes downcast, the picture of the perfect puppet—to be used at the kings discretion.
Her hands hung loosely at her side, waiting her kings orders.
She felt the eyes of the court on her back, burning into her spine.
She was used to it and it was the least of her worries.
They were all spineless fools anyway, sucking willingly from the war machine that fed them.
She ignored Darius's boots planted firmly beside her.
Her knee began to ache before she heard the dulcet tones of her king. The tone as fake as the people behind her.
"I have heard that you found the captain." Cias looked down at his hands covered in priceless jewels of various colours and stones.
She kept her head low as she answered, her eyes pinned on her one boot as the other bent behind her. "Yes, your highness." Her monotone voice filled the silent throne room.
"And that you let him get away." She hid her cringe at the tone change, pure wrath lacing every word. It only grew greater with the ones that followed, "not only did you let my prize get away, you managed to burn down Lord Elsmere's brothel in the process."
This time she raised her head, "It wasn't me—" Darius backhanded her face so hard she saw stars.
She managed to stay up right, locking eyes with the kings.
So similar to his sons, they burned with the fire of hell.
Oh yes, he was pissed. She dipped her head back down, her braid falling down her shoulder in the process.
"I sent you, Adan, because you so rarely disappoint."
Her muscles locked when the shinny tips of the kings boots came into view.
His ringed finger curled around her chin, pulling her head up to look at him.
Her hood long gone, and her mask hung by her neck as her cheek burned, he surveyed her bare face.
She kept her mind blank—giving him nothing.
"Are you not disappointed in yourself." He whipped his hand away in disgust, and she let her head drop again.
"Yes, your highness." She whispered in that meek voice she knew would placate the king.
He merely scoffed, his robbed brushing the wood floor as he returned to his throne. "You might be now, but you most certainly will." He nodded to his son, who's hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her to her feet.
She knew what was to come next, had mentally prepared for it and was already tunnelling inside herself to hid away from the coming pain.
The prince made quick work of ripping away her gloves, and ripped her matching leather jacket from her arms.
Leaving her in a light cream tunic, ripping fabric filled her ears and then cold wind licked up her bare back.
The princes' wind.
Unlike his father, the princes power was seeped in storms, the true name of his house.
He commanded the skies and the weather—but none more than wind.
She knew his power, intimately, has the white scars on her back to prove it.
She might heal quickly, and have the gift of long life, but she knew he could elicit a serious amount of pain.
Darius's wind swirled around her arms, keeping them pined wide as she was dropped hard onto her knees in front of the crowd of courtiers.
Her naked back open and waiting for the king.
She kept her head down, if only to not have to look at the kings court and how they watched and waited with salivating mouths at her torture.
"Im going to enjoy this." The prince's hot mouth whispered into her ear before pulling to his full height behind her.
Her whole body fought the cringe that rolled down her spine at the princes proximity.
It did nothing to help the first lash of his wind as she rocked forward.
She didn't even have a moment to catch her breath as the second lashed against her skin.
All the while she refused to cry out, she hid behind those mental walls as long as she could.
They would eventually always give out, but they would hold her strong for as long as she could hold on.
She had been whipped by the prince before, but never with an audience.
She refused to look up to see their jovial faces.
She took every assault, ever lick of his harsh wind in silence, giving nothing more than a grunt, and marvelled at the silence that met her.
Only the panting breaths of the prince behind her filled the throne room.
He was growing tired, but no less irritated.
He wanted her to scream, he needed it, so he whipped her harder.
Finally she felt her walls fall as her mothers calming voice encompassed her head. Her face forming just behind the darkness of Adan's closed eyes.
Never Behind.
The memory of her mother filled her very being, serving to feed her strength with their house words. Adan lost track of the lashes, and the time. She took each one and held her mothers words tight to her chest, while her hands were splayed wide.
"Enough, Darius." The king spoke in a slow drawl as if the sight of Adan's ruined and bloody back was a sudden bore to him. "Lord Hollow." The king boomed, summoning the head of House Shadow forward.
"Yes. My King." His deep dark voice filled the room. She knew all about the vicious head of house. The demon that could wield fire and ruled his house with an iron first. She was smart enough to avoid the male at all costs. She avoided most of the gentry, it was safer that way.
"You will help my assassin in her quest for the Captain known as Jax. I will not accept failure a second time." His words were absolute.
Blood was now soaking threw her dark pants at the knees, staining the wood of the throne room.
The wind pinning her outstretched hands slipped away and she fell forward with just enough strength to stop her face from slamming into the floor.
Her own blood seeped into her hands, coating them in the hot sticky fluids.
She stayed there until she heard the king remove himself form his throne and exited the room, his son hot on his heels like the good dog he was.
She didn't move until she heard most of the throne rooms occupants leaving. She stood slowly on rickety legs. Blood poured down her back and down her legs, and she fought to keep upright.
A firm but gentle hand curled around her forearm, "I've got you."
She immediately ripped her hand away as if she had been burned.
The action almost knocked herself over in the process but she locked her legs despite the blood at her feet and the pain radiating down every bone.
The adrenaline beginning to fade and she pulled back up her walls.
The edges of her vision began to turn black, she couldn't even bring the strength to turn and look at the male.
"I don't need your help." She spat with quiet venom, even with her body failing her, her mouth still found the strength of fury.
He positioned his hands palms up towards her. She dragged her eyes up and knew those bright green eyes staring back at her and who they belonged to. Lennox Hollow.
"Considering our king just commanded me to help you, I would say otherwise." His dark brows furrowed as he took her in, took in the blood that spread out, threatening to stain his expensive loafers.
"I don't need or want your help." She took a step down the dias towards the exit and to the sanctity of her quarters. Her arms out slightly to help her balance as every step laced debilitating pain up and down her body.
"Honestly, I would rather not help at all, alas." The Lord Lennox sounded bored, and Adan wasn't surprised at all. "My king has commanded me, therefore I am at his whim, I am but a servant."
She looked down pointedly at his expensive loafers, and dragged her eyes back up to his face.
Those green eyes sparkled with amusement.
"I seriously doubt you have any idea what it means to be a servant in our majesties court."
From the tight tailored black suit, the stylish product in his full dark hair.
This male had no idea what it was to go hungry.
Or what it meant to have no autonomy. He was as polished and posh as the rest of the kings well fed court.
His hand whipped out grabbing hold of her face, pulling it closer to his own, the tips of his fingers digging into her cheeks..
She held back the grimace the movement caused.
Until his hold loosened, the pad of his thumb traced over the tattoo on her cheek bone just below her one blue eye.
The tattoo of a heart and dagger, she sneered and ripped her face from his hand.
Shockley enough, he let her go. She raised her chin and did something she never very foolish.
She gave Lord Lennox her back, and limped out of the throne room leaving a trail of blood behind her.
Adan normally covered her slave tattoo with makeup or her mask.
It was a reminder of what she would always be.
The heart was given to her when she started her apprenticeship as a courtesan which was promptly ended by her own choices as she was promptly thrown into the gladiator pits.
When she was soon after placed into the assassins guild called the Sicarri, she was again branded with the blade.
Every slave had a tattoo in the same spot so that they were easily assessed.
So that no one of pure blood would actually have to talk to them.
They would know immediately what their purpose is.
She hated everything about the practise, but she was the only slave she knew of that was allowed to cover her brand and only because the king himself allowed it.
Her feet carried her to the heavy door of her room, she didn't allow herself to crumble until the door was firmly shut behind her.