The king has him pinned against the wall by his throat and The Nightmare takes the abuse willingly.
I slink across the floor, dragging the sheet with me as it sweeps some of the rubble with it, until I reach Lis.
Quickly bringing my fingers around her neck to straighten it, I feel for any open wounds or breaks. After inspecting closer, it seems as if she’s merely unconscious.
I murmur, “But I heard your bones crack?”
King Euron continues his barrage of words directed at The Nightmare, but another voice comes roughly over my shoulder.
“She cannot die as you would. She is cursed by her ancestors.”
Not bothering to look over my shoulder, I continue to look down at Lis’ pale cheeks, the pink underhue zapped from her complexion.
“Leave us alone,” I croak out, trying to get the phantom that lingers behind me to go away.
“That is not why I am here, Alora.” His voice is closer this time.
I don’t respond, I merely wipe Lis’ hair from her forehead.
Footsteps fall heavily on the floor, rushing towards me.
I can tell based on the loud steps that it’s the king. Only someone who was afraid of nothing would walk so boldly.
Turning to face him, his blue eyes blaze in my direction with his golden locks disheveled and pointing out in random directions.
“I need you, Alora.” The flatness of his tone lends no information as of what his intention is.
He extends a hand, raising his eyebrows in the process. “You look a little worse for wear.”
His eyes lock on mine, his irises void of any emotion.
“Get up,” he commands.
I sit there, stunned by his apathy.
He snaps his fingers and The Nightmare saunters over, his feet crunching over broken glass. My nail marks still mar his face and a sick sense of pride swells within me, the first feeling I’ve had that trickles in.
The Devourer makes his way to the door with his back turned to me until all I see is the neat knot at the nape of his neck. I watch him walk away until he stops beside the door and leans against it, facing us. He folds his arms under each other and looks like the embodiment of indifference.
It feels like it’s Lis and I against the very monsters of this realm. I scoot closer to her, oddly protective of her even only knowing her for mere clockhours.
“In case you haven’t learned yet, this is me asking kindly.” King Euron’s gaze hardens on me.
He speaks again, “I don’t have need for defiance, just for obedience. If you’d rather learn the hard way, then I have ways to make that happen. Sure, Orlin roughed you up, but that’s just a taste of what I’ll send you to the dungeons for if you decide to force my hand, Alora Viren.”
A smirk forms on The Nightmare’s lips.
Frustration grows on the king's face, pink flooding his cheeks.
“Kassiel, bring me your dagger,” he demands.
The Devourer pushes off the wall and within moments he’s standing next to the king, a dagger outstretched—my dagger, the opaline glint a stark comparison to the dark walls.
The king grabs it quickly and jabs the point under my chin until it bites to the point a small bead of blood wells. The king uses his free hand to drag the bead along my jawline.
“I know you’re not aware so I’ll say this once. I may not have magic, I may not have abilities or even the inklings of essence that even some bastard babes in this realm have,” he steps closer, “but I do have a wickedness in me that doesn’t compare to your nightmares.”
He releases the point from my chin and drags the blade across his tongue. My ichor stains his light pink flesh and he hands the dagger back to The Devourer.
