Chapter Eight The Grimms
"A healthy woman does not torture others--generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers."
It was another week before the king summoned Adan, pushing them into the cold and wet of autumn.
She made a point of avoiding everyone and everything she possibly could.
Her mind felt split after the evening at Sanctum.
Even Czandra had sent word for her, which she conveniently ignored.
Thankfully, Lennox hadn't sent for her, which she saw as a small reprieve.
She hadn't thought about his possessive hands all over since that night at the Sanctum --not once.
She did think about all the abused women under his care--and his so-called friends.
All she did was read her books and throw her daggers.
She needed a new dummy already, the one Osho had brought her was already in tatters, barely hanging on by threads.
Today, however, she would be forced to leave her sanctuary for the throne room.
She had no idea what the summons was about.
A small part of her feared that she was in trouble again, and would spend another week in her bedroom heeling her wounds.
She dressed in assassin black, her hood was down, and her hair plaited down the middle of her back.
Her boots clicking against the marble stone of the throne room.
Everyone was assembled today, it seemed, even lowland lords had made the trip here.
Adan found a spot in the back of the hall, and leaned against one of the pillars, her body half cloaked in shadow.
The High King Cias sat on his throne, his white feathered wings out and on display. His son stood by his side. Darius's eyes found Adan in the dark, and narrowed, a smirk bloomed on his face.
That is never good.
"Care to explain why the prince is looking at you like you're his next meal?"
Lennox Hollow leaned over Adan, It was like he came from the shadows themselves.
She had not seen him come in, nor was he here when she arrived.
She was prideful that she had managed not to jump at the sound of his voice.
Not only that, but she was too worried about the prince and was currently double-checking her mental wards.
"He loves to watch me squirm." She whispered, but didn't take her eyes off the dais. She needed to stay calm, and one look at Lennox would cause the opposite. He could get under her skin with a simple look--and after Sanctum...
The courtroom chatter quickly died away as the King rose from his throne and every single body in the room dropped to their knees. Even Adan and Lennox.
"I am sure many of you are wondering why you were summoned here today."
He clapped his hands together and smiled.
"We have a pleasant surprise." Four guards burst through the double doors, and heads swivelled, even if they were all still kneeling before their King.
"Rise, for today is a good day!" Everyone stood at their king's command, making it difficult to see what those guards were carrying.
It was clear to Adan that these men had been brought up from the dungeons by the look of their festering wounds and their ragged clothing.
Two guards per prisoner, which they unceremoniously dumped at the end of the dais.
It was clear to Adan that these prisoners had been beaten so brutally that they could not move on their own.
It triggered rising memories that she squashed down with a mental boot.
"These men are guilty of conspiring against the crown. They have told me that they are members of The Grim, a small local rebel group."
The court gasped, but Adan and Lennox didn't so much as breathe.
She had heard of the group before, but never met any members, at least not any willing to talk.
The king had managed to find two, by whatever nefarious means.
Both of them male, maybe once they had been strong and stubborn, but now she could hear their small cries.
There was no doubt that those males had been broken beyond recognition.
"They have told me all the information that they possess, but not who their leader is."
Lennox straightened, no doubt to see those rebels better.
"Adan. Step forward." Her spine steeled at his summons, and her cold mask fell into place. She moved and the crowd split. She bent in half to bow when she arrived in front of her king.
"Highness, how can I be of service?" She already suspected what he wanted.
"Kill one of them, Assassin." This wasn't her usual brand of malice.
Most of the people she was asked to kill were, in fact, horrible people.
They were menaces to society, and she had no problem ending their miserable lives.
Not to mention, it was usually done in the darkness of night, not early morning with a whole room filled with onlookers.
The king hadn't used that commanding voice of his, but there would no way she could out right disobey him.
"Does my king have a preference?" She gave him a fake smile, that told him she would be his blade.
She would do his bloodletting, and enjoy every moment of it.
That was what he wanted, and she would obey.
The two curled up prisoners lay at his feet.
One of them would not survive, while the other— she wasn't sure which was worse.
"I will leave you with the gift of choice."
Adan made the mistake of locking eyes with Darius.
He was smirking like a cat with a fresh kill.
She might make a living by killing people, but Darius was the true sociopath.
He enjoyed watching people be hurt. He enjoyed hurting them.
There was nothing enjoyable about Adan's life.
She again checked herself and steeled her mask and her spine.
She looked away and down at the prisoners, she didn't know how she was supposed to decide.
In the end, she chose the one male because of his auburn hair, similar to the princes.
It was the only deciding factor, and it was a pathetic one.
Adan knew if she refused the king, it would only be worse for her.
She would be the one in the dungeons--or worse--the pits.
Or he might have enough of her and just end her life here and now in front of the gentry.
The guards moved the unknown rebel, to the same spot that Adan had been whipped.
The other was held up by his guards and made to watch.
No one handed her a weapon, and Adan realized that she would be playing Darius's role.
She would be forced to whip this rebel with her magic--her fire.
He would not last long. There are only a few creatures that could withstand her magic.
She tended to avoid using it, she preferred her hands or her blades.
The smell of burning flesh was supremely unpleasant and tended to haunt her dreams.
This man was not one of those creatures, she knew her fire would rip him apart.
"Begin." The king bellowed, while lounging back in his throne to watch Adan work.
She had been summoned, specifically, to do this, and always threw up afterwards.
She hated it more than what Lennox had forced on her at Sanctum.
This time the king used his commanding tone, his powers on Adan.
It wouldn't matter if he didn't, she was bound by law to obey her sovereign.
She unfurled her fire, moulding it into a whip that curled in her hand.
It unravelled in a hiss of flame and fury, even if it felt cool in her grasp.
She felt her throat tighten, and hopped that no one was looking too closely at her hesitation.
The guards had ripped away what little material was left of the prisoners' shirt.
His back now bare, but riddled with scars, like most beings in Lymia.
Whatever they had already done to him, they had saved his back for Adan.
Those scars were old, long ago healed, and she was about to rip into them anew.
She let the first crack sound in the silent throne room.
The only other sound were the cries of the young man before her.
The throne room filled with the smell of burning flesh, and she fought not to lose her lunch on the dais.
It had only been a few weeks ago that Adan had been in that very spot.
She could see clearly that this young man would not survive.
Not many could survive her magic--he was already too drained for his body to heal itself.
Her fire seemed to eat away at his skin, like it was rotting flesh and her power was a sea of maggots.
She raised her hand again, and brought down her burning whip as it licked up his spine.
If she was precise in her movements, she could make this quick for him.
It was the only reprieve she could offer him. The only mercy she could show.
He was limp and crying by the third strike.
His back already falling off in pieces. Some of it burning to ash and fluttering off into the air.
The smell of charred flesh filled her nose and settled there.
Adan heard the distinct sound of someone being sick in the back of the throne room.
With every fall of her arm, she slipped a little more inside herself.
With every fall, that unknown prisoner died a little more, until she finally peeled away his skin enough to see his spine.
The just of his bone, and muscle told her that this would be his last strike.
He barely made a sound when she disintegrated his spine with a strike of her whip.
As he crumbled to the floor, she willed her fire to dissipate, but she could not look away from the crumbled body of that young rebel.
She needed to get out of here, but she stood there unmoving, like her feet were encased in cement.
The other prison hadn't made a single noise as he watched Adan work on his friend.
"Send that one to the Gladiator Pits. I will free him if he gives me the name of their rebel leader."
Adan knew it for the lie that it was. The only freedom that this rebel would receive was a quick death.
That's all that the pits were, even if you manage to survive, a part of you never leaves those iron cells.
"Adan, burn what is left of the other." His chin nodded towards the dead crumpled body before her.
She wanted nothing more than to run to her room, and empty the contents of her stomach.
But the throne room was full, and watching her every movement.
With a flick of her wrist she let her fire consume the body.
She made herself watch as her flames burnt everything to ash.
She stood there like a good dog, waiting her masters orders while that flame died out.
Leaving only bits of bone and sinew and ash. The throne room reeked of it.
"Lennox Hollow." The King boomed, Adan saw him step forward at the corner of her eye, she refused to look away from what was left of the dead rebel.
"Sire." He bowed low.
"Add finding the rebel leader that call themselves The Grimms, along with Captain Jax to your duties." The kings words pure command.
Adan hands curled into fists at the kings words, but said and did nothing, it would only make matters worse. Another thing added to their list of duties that would hold back the timeline of her possible freedom.
Lennox rose from his bow, "of course, Sire."
The high king waved a hand of dismissal to his court, and turned to leave. Adan went to bolt for the double doors when cold fingers wrapped around her upper arm and tugged her into a hard, firm chest.
"Not so fast." The voice of Darius hissed in her ear.
"Don't you want to enjoy the sight of your work a little longer."
His other hand gripped her chin hard, forcing her to look at the burnt remains of the man Adan had just killed.
Darius's body was flush at her back as he held her firm.
"You do such beautiful work, if only you'd appreciate it."
His hot breath fanned her neck and her skin pebbled in disgust.
"I heard that my father leant you out to that Demon Lord. Perhaps I shall have you next."
Adan felt the unmistakable wet drag of Darius tongue up her nape.
She cringed but held strong. If he were anyone but the high king's son, she would have gutted him from navel to nose, right here and now.
Consequences be damned. She would kill him and herself before she was ever allowed to be his.
Death would be better than kneeling at that cravens feet.
But he let her go, and soon followed his father back into their private quarters.
Maybe she would start making a list of things she would do once she was free.
Killing Darius Dreadmore was at the top of that list.
He might have let her out of his grip, but she still stared down that body as the hall filled out.
She was frozen to the spot, until a warm hand touched her shoulder.
Snapping her back to reality as she jolted out of his touch.
"Are you okay?" Lennox asked, pity shone in those green eyes. It made Adan's stomach sour further.
I don't need your fucking pity. "Get away from me." She pushed him in the chest, but he didn't waver. He didn't stop her either as she stormed out of the now empty throne room. She just made it to her bathing room as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Over and over and over.
Adan didn't sleep that night. What little sleep she got was hounded by nightmares and the sound of her whip cracking.