The Blood King - Chapter Eight (Patreon)

Cassian

For the first time since the Ikniri showed up at the walls, the castle has grown silent. Word of the surviving Ikniri is sure to spread before the week ends. Those arrogant humans made sure to parade her in front of the kingdom as a trophy, not only igniting the flame, but letting it linger among humans so that they could touch an Ancient. 

There may have been a war, but it is between the Ancients. Humans have never been permitted a place among us—a place to feel equal.

I don’t know whether to be angry or fascinated by the turn of events this day has brought. I thought for sure I had taken out all the Ikniri. I don’t know how one could have survived, and without any markings to show a connection to her people. She is no stronger than a human with the features of an Ikniri. To be an Ancient who has grown in age but has no markings is pathetic and shameful among us. But I doubt she is aware of that. She doesn’t seem aware of anything.

The closer I come to the Ikniri’s room, the deeper the anger swirling around in my gut grows. Memories I’ve tried to bury have made their way back to the surface, making me blind with rage. Krea said the Ikniri had a burn on her shoulder, a burn that was put there long before the humans captured her. It could have come from anywhere, she has obviously lived a life apart from her people. Everyone under my rule was given strict instructions.

No one was to survive.

I scoff as the door at the end of the hall comes into view. My men quietly stand guard on either side, bowing as I approach. I immediately push the thought to the side as I enter the room where she sleeps.

The room is chilly as I enter. My eyes adjust quickly to the dark, and I note that the fireplace isn’t lit. I raise a brow, moving to see what could be the cause, kneeling to find that there’s water on the wood. It’s been soaked, and a quick scope around the room leads me to the basin that was once filled with water, overturned in the corner.

It’s just like the Ikniri to be unruly.

I turn my attention to the bed, my confusion deepening when it’s empty. There’s only a nightgown on top of the sheets that haven’t been touched. As I move to the bed, I finally notice where the chill in the room comes from. The Ikniri sleeps in the corner on the floor, her expression troubled as tears freeze to her cheeks.

So she isn’t completely cut off from her power.

I move closer to her, fascination replacing the repulsion I felt earlier. It’s been decades since I saw an Ikniri last. Her white hair curls wildly around her, her lashes long as frost settles over them in the place of her tears. Her skin is golden brown, mimicking the color of the sky, just before the sunset disappears below the horizon. She pulls in a trembling breath, pulling my attention to her lips.

“Foolish Ikniri,” I murmur, shifting to lift her body from the floor. The coolness of her skin isn’t unpleasant, but I can see that she finds my touch unpleasant as she groans, shifting away from my naturally high body heat. She doesn’t even know how to internalize her temperature. I’m sure life is miserable for her at the moment. She has no access to her people, her culture, her power. She is a lone Ikniri who can’t even hide in the world. It is a fate worse than death.

She doesn’t stir as I lay her on the bed.

My attention falls to the band wrapped around her arm. It is clearly from her culture, the material native to the mountains her kind live in. My gaze narrows as I notice the two jewels attached. Before I can reach for it, she suddenly rolls away, pulling my gaze to her shoulder.

A burn resides there.

I narrow my gaze, standing as my disgust for what she is returns. She is clearly from a tribe I encountered. Somehow, she remained hidden from me, and if she was hidden, then there must be others. For her to be here in this shape, with no markings and no power, is an anomaly too strange to ignore. I won’t kill her, not yet. She may have the answers I need. I just need to be patient until she leads me to them.

Willingly, or unwillingly.

Nymira

I’ve never had an issue with the knowledge that I am an orphan. I’d grown comfortable with it over the years. Somehow, I had become the last of my kind. It was just a fact of life for me. I have no recollection of my life before, only the night my brother left me. And even that night is a blur.

I mourned the loss of my people and family, of course. But over the years, I had come to see Peyra as my family. She raised me, taught me, and kept me safe. And all the while, made it her top priority for me to never forget what I am and where I come from. With her death comes the suffocating feeling of being alone. She was a constant presence in my life every day for as long as I can remember, and she was also the last connection I had to my people.

Now, I am truly alone.

I am alone, in a place that is foreign to me. For years, I’ve lived in the forests. I’ve rarely seen buildings, let alone kingdoms. I don’t know the first thing about the world humans live in, nor do I know how to find my way back to Peyra’s village. Escape isn’t an option for me.

I remain silent as I look at the gown that’s been brought to me to wear. It is the most hideous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s flashy, jewels glittering on it in a way I’ve never seen on a garment of clothing. And I can already tell it will drag the ground. It is useless to me and will only hinder my ability to walk—to run if need be.

“I refuse to wear this,” I say, looking up at the human servant who seems to be in constant awe of my presence.

I don’t trust her.

Not only did she avoid answering my questions about this king last night, but I awoke this morning in the bed I specifically recall avoiding when I fell asleep. I don’t know what her goal is, or why she is loyal to a king she’s not even permitted to lay eyes on. And I refuse to trust someone who is loyal to an idea, rather than an entity. That’s the entire reason I’ve been dragged to this castle in the first place.

“No harm will come to you from wearing it. It is only proper to wear to breakfast,” she says, gently, reaching for the gown.

I reach for it, snatching it off the bed before making my way to the window. I hear her protests, but I ignore them as I push open the window, tossing the gown out the side of the castle. I watch it with a sense of jealousy as it gently billows down the side of the castle, wishing I could follow it and escape.

“I do not care what is proper. I have expressed to your king what I want. If he cannot give it to me, then I will not be changing,” I say, my voice coming out firm. He is an arrogant man to think I would simply respect his customs when my request for Peyra’s robe was ignored.

The servant’s face reflects shock as she looks past me to the window.

“I’m afraid the king won’t be available for a few hours. You will have to wait until then for your request to be revisited.” A new voice enters the room, pulling both of our attention.

Out of instinct, I reach for my hip in an attempt too grab my blade, but there is nothing there, and I am left stadning defensively as a man enters the room.

I recognize him.

He’s the man who greeted me briefly before entering the king’s chambers. His dark hair is still messy as it falls perfectly into his face, leaving his bright amber colored eyes to study me as I study him. He seems boyish, his full lips curved in an amused grin as he enters. He’s the first person to not look at me with shock or even awe.

I narrow my gaze, standing up straight as the servant drops to her knees, pressing her face into the floor. I look at her in confusion, but she doesn’t even speak as he enters, her boidy trembling from his presence alone. He doesn’t seem interested in her, however, as he looks past both of us.

His eyes shift from the bed to the open window, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I always heard Ikniri were unruly. I didn’t think that rumor would stretch to one that was raised among humans,” he says.

I don’t respond, but he continues, gesturing to my clothing.

“I cannot say it is appropriate for you to traipse through the castle in that, as it will cause quite a stir. Much bigger than your existence alone,” he says, revealing his full smile.

He doesn’t seem hostile, and all I can do is rely on my eyes to tell me that. I am still far too weak to hear or even smell anything more than a human would. My gaze rakes over him, taking in his clothing.

“Something similar to what you are wearing will suffice,” I say, raising my chin.

His amusement disappears, shock gracing his features for the first time since he entered.

“You do realize you are in no position to make any demands, right? The king will not be pleased to find out that you’ve thrown such an invaluable gown down the side of the castle,” he says.

I scoff.

“What makes you think I care anything about your king’s feelings?” I say, my voice rising.

The man takes a step back, lifting his hands as if in surrender.

“I mean no harm… let me see what I can do. If I can find you something suitable to wear, then will you come to breakfast?” he asks.

I cross my arms over my chest, standing firm.

“You must keep your word first. Then I will give you mine.”

True to his word, the man who entered the room this morning found me something much more suitable to wear. He brought me pants and an appropriate shirt. After a few minutes finagling with the loose fabric, I managed to get it to fit me. It’s slightly bigger than me in size, but is much better than the heavy gown that dragged me down.

If it comes down to it, I can fight for my life.

I remain silent as I follow the human servant through the unfamiliar halls of the castle. She seems to be on edge since the intervention of the man this morning. But her silence is giving me a moment to look at my surroundings. This castle is strange in itself. The remnants of any royal family living here have been removed. Heirlooms, armor, and sigils are all gone, other than the mysterious king’s banner. Servants are also far fewer and in between. I’ve only seen a handful, which is not nearly enough to run a castle of this magnitude.

But I will keep my suspicions to myself at the moment. It is obvious that the servants will not tell me anything out of fear. And I still don’t know what this king wants from me, or why he’s decided to keep an Iknri alive and captive.

“This is the dining hall—”

I ignore the human as we step past an arch, an immense amount of sunlight pulling my attention. I hear her calling after me, but I ignore it as I move to the open archway that overlooks what could be a meadow in the midst of the castle. I place my hands against the balcony as I lean over the edge, looking up. The sun shines down on it in full bloom.

“What is this place?” I murmur as the panicked footsteps of the servant approach. Her breathing is hard as she follows my gaze.

“These are the gardens. It dates back generations before the former king—” she trails off, realizing her mistake.

I shift my attention from the gardens to her.

“You know, I am not stupid. I know this castle belongs to someone else,” I say, looking back over the gardens. “Or rather, belonged,” I laugh.

She remains silent, but I don’t mind. The sight and scent of fresh air bring back memories of my time with Peyra, causing tears to form. I miss the forest, and I miss the wagon I called my home for all those years.

Our timeline to arrive at her village has long since passed, and if my brother were somehow still alive, he would have missed us. He will think I am dead. I lift my arm, looking at the necklaces given to me. They cover the one mark that has formed—that caused all of this. Peyra never explained the significance of markings. I didn’t even know they were possible, never having seen another Ikniri in my life.

But the king clearly knows more about my culture than I do.

“Take me to the dining hall,” I say, turning away from the balcony.

If am ever to escape, I must learn more about myself—my kind. The king and his inhabitants clearly have the answers I seek. Now, I just need to figure out a way to get to them.