It has been a long time since I used my royalty to speak up against a person. The thick bald man with a long beard turns around. He has the courage to smirk at me.
“The king gave me orders. You better leave if you don’t want to be next,” he hisses. Before he turns around, the key out of his pocket flies in my hand and I unlock the cell.
A basic trick.
One most torturers are aware of.
“I might have been your little fall guy before, but I am the youngest Prince of Drimyé,” I speak up, stepping inside of thecell. “And to make it clear, I am not so little or scared anymore,” I growl, throwing out my first punch. It wasn’t what the man expected, and he bows deeply to try to stop the nosebleed I caused. I sign to the dark blond-haired boy to follow. He looks at me with his wide brown eyes.
“You are that prince?” he huffs like a badass teenage boy. Shadows creeping up around him, but he remains in shock. He follows me as the guards call something after us.
“That little jerk tried to steal something!” he yells after me, but doesn’t follow. I give him the finger and the boy smiles at me.
“Why don’t you hurt me like the others do?” he asks, not looking scared, holding on to the tough boy act. I shrug as we enter the other end of the hallway. I turn to him, stopping him from running out immediately.
“Listen good, kid. Not a word about this. I have to keep my reputation on track,” I command seriously. He laughs at me and pats me on the chest. I look at it, the courage of this boy hurting me.
“Well, thank you Prince…?” I move my head towards the garden.
“Braxton,” I announce. “Now go, and don’t get caught again.” I grin at him. He does as I say and runs into the outside world.
Well, that wasn’t on my planning.
I haven’t found the man I was looking for. My hand feels some kind of doorknob I haven’t seen before. As I lean against it, it opens.
A room full of materials to torture prisoners to be revealed.
Metal balls with points, belts, cudgels, knives, teasers, swords and way more things you don’t want to imagine. There are containers that are used to hold water. They use it as a method to make you confess. They push you under until you are almost dead.
I start to shiver and shake as my body reacts to the memories.
A curtain at the end swings open and a figure steps through. It takes him a few seconds to notice me.
Fuck yes.
A growl rolls over my lips as the man I was looking for freezes in front of me in a room full of weapons. Rage burns inside of me as I think of that man touching Eliane. I am going to damage his male parts, maybe even cut off his hands. Making sure he will never be able to touch another woman ever again. A sword flies in my hand, and I catch it by the grip. Before I go on the attack I need to speak some words towards this man.
I am not sure why, but he looks a bit more intimidating than the other times I saw him.
“Bow,” I command him. Roles are changed. He isn’t my torturer anymore. This time I don’t need to get punished. Because this time I didn’t do anything wrong. This time he is the monster. The demon that hunted me in my nightmare. As he stands there not a word leaving his mouth, I speak up again.
“Bow for all those women you hurt,” I command. It is not a question. My voice is bitter and the man who is as tall as me sinks to his knees.
“Bow like the coward you are,” I spit the words out. I am not exactly sure how they did those things in the nightmare when they were here in reality, but he did really kill Hazel. He made those decisions. I tighten my grip on the word.
“Why do you think you are in control now?” the man hisses, looking up at me. I step forward. Huff out a laugh. My feet move fast, and I kick him in the face. I kick again and his face hit the floor. Something cracks. I try to keep my calm.
“I am a healer, you psycho, and you are no more than a little douchebag who was born into royalty but deserved nothing more than you have got,” he hisses, aiming for his head. He jumps up and comes into action, the wound on his head healed already.
“You might be a healer, but even a healer can be killed,” I spit. I slice his arm as he jumps forward. I duck for his punch and tackle him using my legs to drag his away under him. He falls to the ground and lays there for a few seconds before he starts to blink again. I kneel down next to him, my face not showing emotion, while my whole body tingles and burns. A sharp pain burns to my skin.
I turn to see the arm behind me cutting in my flesh. Once, twice, three times. Despite the blood dripping down my back. I come into action. I raise my swords and smash.
His hand is severed from his body, blood pooling on the floor. He cries out, but I keep my emotions in check. Despite the pain, adrenaline surges through me. He screams, staring at his missing hand, while my heart pounds loudly in my ears as I lean close to his ear.
“I will make sure you will never be able to touch any men or women again.”
My woman.
