The king sniffed at the air, wiping a bead of spittle from the corner of his mouth. “Stubborn little bitch.” He spat, lips peeling back against elongated teeth as he struck her across the face. Still, the princess did not relent. “I suppose I will have to break you another way.” He glanced up at the guards that lingered by the door, both of them facing away from the scene that had been put on display before them. “Call in the Siphon.”
Her eyes widened just slightly through the swelling, her mouth parting. Her voice was a whisper, forcing the king to charge forward with his hand cupped behind his ear.
“What did you say?” He asked.
With every last bit of strength she could muster, the princess pulled herself up. She looked at him straight, her chin raised and blood seeping down the column of her neck. She bore it proudly. Allowed him to feast upon her in all of her bruised and bloodied glory before she opened her mouth to speak.
“I am Princess Ailikaya Dothrae Aesa of Holiadon, wife to Prince Ilias Dothrae. I am the beginning of your demise. But you may call me Ada.”
The king stooped down to his knee, swiping at the line of blood on her neck. He chuckled deep in his burly chest, cocking his head to the side as if scrutinizing a bug or pesky serpent. And she wished for that—to come in the form of a snake and snuff the life from his eyes, forever dimming the evil gleam that lurked in those depthless pools of black.
“Ada, huh?” The king hummed. “And what does that mean in your tongue,wild one?”
Kaya grinned a bloodied smile, batting her eyes at him prettily. “In Lowen, it has three meanings. Death or rebirth—” She hissed through clenched teeth as he pressed his finger into one of the lashes on her back, fully understanding that he did not like that answer.
“And the third meaning?”
A beat of silence. Two beats. Her heart pounded in her ears and her head swam with the blinding pain that radiated from her back into the base of her skull. “Ada is the name of the goddess of retribution. In your tongue, you know her asAdora.”
And with that, the king fisted the hair at the back of her head and slammed her face into the floor. He rose to his feet again, jerking at the fabric of his gaudy robes and pushing a strand of golden hair over his shoulder. “Adorable.” He sighed, without an ounce of affection to his tone. He looked over her slumped figure before turning to the young Captain that hovered by the doorway.
The young male’s face was pale, his yellow eyes just wide enough to signify that he was horrified at what he saw. The king approached him with a prideful stride, sparing the unconscious female a final glance before he clapped the Captain on the shoulder.
“Have her taken to the Siphon immediately.”
The command was met with a dazed nod, the Captain still utterly disgusted at what he’d witnessed. He was hesitant in retrieving her and was careful when he leaned down and examined her body for places he could touch that weren’t already purple or bloodied. There were hardly any.
Once released from her shackles, he didn’t know where to grab her in his attempt at lifting her off the floor. He removed his jacket, draping it over the bleeding wounds on her back before he pulled her up. Kaya wrapped her arms and legs around him, like a child clinging to its mother. The Captain’s eyes burned with tears, his breathing delayed as he walked her towards The Siphon’s room. Once safe behind the protection of The Siphon’s door, the red-haired male placed the princess onto the bed, laying her on her stomach.
“What is your name, gentle one?” The princess asked.
He thought for a moment, wondering if he should say anything to her at all. But by the dazed look on her face and the tears that streaked it, his fear turned to an overwhelming desire to protect. To defend.
“Brynnard Joran.” He swallowed, kneeling down beside the bed just enough for her to see his face. “I am Captain of the Credulan Army. Son to Brand Joran, General of the Credulan Army.”
She smiled, swallowing a sob when she realized he had covered her with his jacket. “You have a soft heart, Brynnard Joran.”
Soft, indeed. Even in his fear, he wouldn’t dare harm this poor creature. “Thank you, Adora.” He swallowed deeply, eyes flickering in the direction of the door. He leaned closer, more frantic now than before. “I will do my best to take care of you. I will do everything in my power to assure he will not put his hands on you again.”
The princess sobbed into the mattress, a heartbreaking and guttural sob that was laced with someone’s name, but Brynnard could not be sure. He hovered there—close, but not too close, and waited.
Brynnard watched as her horrible sobs turned to helpless whimpers and saw her eyes finally starting to drift closed. He wished that he could do more to ease her pain, but he just watched her. Guarded her—this young female that the Credulan king had demonized. He’d made them all believe that the Dark Bringer, this tiny quivering creature before him, was a fanged and heartless monster.
A sharp inhale forced Brynnard’s attention away from the princess, his eyes landing on the female that was now interring the room. Her golden curls were tied into a knot at the top of her head and instead of wearing dress and robe as the rest of the courtiers, this female wore trousers and a tunic, her shoes nowhere in sight. He would have smiled at the sight of her barefoot and winded on any other day, but under these circumstances, he could barely muster a single greeting.
The Siphon walked towards the blood-soaked bed, her brow crumpled and tears threatening to spill as she knelt beside the princess.
“Hello,” the golden-haired maiden whispered, her voice gentle and soft like the tender touch of a friend. “My name is Celestia Joran.”
“Ada—Adora.” The princess grumbled, her tongue stumbling between Lowen dialect and Credulan. “You can call me Adora.”
Celestia chewed at the skin of her lip, exchanging a glance with Brynnard before she peeled back the jacket that had been thrown over her back. Kaya whimpered, pain searing through her flesh. Tears welled up in her eyes, her cries muffled by the thick duvet.
“I’m not doing this—” Celestia started, jolting to her feet.
Brynnard rushed towards her, gripping her arm desperately. “He will kill you, Celestia. He will kill you and he won’t think twice about it. And where will that leave the Ruthra? What will we dothen?”
“Your father can lead.”
