The Blood King-Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

Nymira

Storm clouds have rolled in since this morning. They look much thicker and gray than they did in the forests. In the forests, I could barely see the storm clouds. The treetops mostly covered the sky, and by the time it rained, Peyra and I had already taken cover in a cave somewhere. I smile to myself at the memory as I lean against the open balcony. The air smells of water, making me happy that I can once again smell nature, and not the humans who surround this castle.

It’s slowly becoming overwhelming.

I slowly look away from the clouds to the kingdom filled with humans. I’ve never seen so many in one place. And for some reason, they don’t mind the king who has overthrown their previous ruler. For the most part, they seem more afraid than anything. As if the king who resides now is a threat to their way of life. And after the way he recently spoke of them, I understand their fears.

I tense as thunder rumbles overhead, reminding me of him. Our encounter is one I want to forget. I can’t even remember what happened after my outburst. But I can still feel his heated palm pressed threateningly against my cheek. I release a trembling breath, bringing my fingertips to my cheek as I try to calm myself down. His monstrous strength easily held me down in that moment. I couldn’t break free; I was completely at his mercy. I scoff, lowering my hand as I think of the word. Mercy. He believes he is doing me a favor by keeping me here against my will, and that Peyra deserved her death for spending her life offering the mercy that no one else would. Everyone seems to think that. The woman I saved, the men who ambushed us, and likely any other human we could have come into contact with over the years. What Peyra did, saving me and raising me, was a crime punishable by death.

But the king keeping me, despite the laws, does not. 

“Plotting your next escape?” Caius’s voice drifts toward me, but I don’t bother turning around as he approaches. I don’t care much for him. He lingers and asks questions that I cannot answer as if I am lying to him. And since he is the king’s man, I am confident he is asking questions in his stead.

I remain silent, holding my hand out past the edge of the balcony. The air is damp as it caresses my palm, allowing me to feel the heavy water in it. It feels nice against my skin. For once, the sun isn’t out to beat against me and make me uncomfortable. I am not surrounded by trees taller than buildings that trap the heat, forcing it to cling to my skin.

The air is heavy, but it is heavy with moisture. It feels almost as if I could reach out and grab the water. For the first time since Peyra’s death, I feel alive. If not only a little.

“Do you hate them as well?” I ask, my eyes remaining forward.

Caius is quiet for a moment, moving to stand next to where I sit. He follows my gaze to the surrounding kingdom.

“The people?” he asks.

I nod.

“Your king finds them revolting. Yet he resides among them,” I say.

Caius doesn’t respond, as if he’s thinking carefully about his words to me.

“No, I do not hate them,” he says, taking a seat next to me. “I pity them.”

I look away from the open arch, to Caius. His eyes glow like firelight as he studies the world, and I am once again curious about the scent that comes off of him. I have never been in contact with any other Ancient’s to know what their scents smell like. But I know that Caius isn’t human.

“Pity them?” I ask.

“They are unlucky to be born into a world where Ancients exist. They are like small children, just trying to stay out of the way, or else death may find them. And as long as Ancient’s do not have peace, neither will they,” he says.

I laugh, pulling his attention.

“And yet you cannot find that same pity for the Ikniri,” I say.

He looks at me, his expression strange as he studies me.

“I did, actually. Though now I can’t help but wonder if it was a mistake,” he says as if alluding to something more.

“Having pity for those who are helpless is never a mistake,” I say, earning a laugh from Caius.

“You must have been raised around humans for that kind of thought to exist in your mind,” he says. “Just because they are helpless does not mean they cannot become dangerous.”

I’m about to correct him when I think of the last week of my life. He sounds like Peyra, and I sound like my old self. The same self that did not heed her warnings, and this became the result. My throat feels like it’s closing as I think of her last moments, and I quickly look away from Caius, out into the darkening sky.

“Of all the things you have said to me, I actually understand what you mean,” I say.

“Oh?” he asks.

I look down at my hands, focusing on the necklace my brother left me. It remains wrapped around my forearm, covering the one marking that has appeared on me—the cause of all of this. As much as I want to ignore it, the memory of that day flashes over my mind.

“A mother and her son got caught in a river rush. I could hear them…I could smell their fear, their panic…I could hear the hearts. I saved them and exposed myself in the process. They would have died if I hadn’t stepped in. They were completely helpless. But gratitude is not what they showed. Hatred, and fear is what I got…” I blink away my tears, refusing to let them fall.

“She turned me in, and Peyra died because of it. And now, I am here for the world to see and for your king to torture. And Peyra…Peyra is dead,” I say.

“Peyra is the woman who raised you?” he asks.

“Yes. She lived her life for me, never once imagining it any other way,” I say. I expect Caius to reprimand her just as the king did, but he doesn’t. He is quiet. I flinch when I suddenly feel Caius’s gentle touch on my back. But I quickly stand, slapping his hand away. I know my expression gives off my hatred as I glare at him.

“Do not pity me. I have learned my lesson, and I will have to live with this for the rest of my life. I do not need pity from the guard who helps keep me here,” I growl in irritation.

I feel a chill in my chest, and I take deep breaths, urging it to go away. I cannot lose control, not when I am in the belly of the beast.

“I’m sorry, Nymira…I didn’t know,” he says.

I laugh. “Of course you didn’t. None of you do because none of you care about who I am or what I’ve been through. All you care about is what I am, and punishing me for the mistakes of my people. You are no better than those humans,” I snap.

Caius smiles, looking back at the kingdom. “You don’t know our story either, Nymira. You don’t know what we have been through as a people,” he says.

Silence drifts between us. He is right. I do not know their story. But it still has nothing to do with me.

“Your story has nothing to do with me,” I say.

Caius looks at me. “And the burn on your shoulder?”

I blink in confusion at his decision to bring it up out of the blue. Out of instinct, I slowly reach for it, pressing against it as it tingles in discomfort. This burn has always been a mystery to me. I don’t recall getting it, and my first memory of it is the grueling healing process. It took months, if not years, to finally settle into a scar. And even still, it brings me discomfort.

“Are you saying you know how I got this burn?” I ask.

His eyes widen slightly. It’s so small a movement that if I weren’t an Ikniri, I wouldn’t have noticed it.

“Of course not. I just mean…having a burn like that can mean you were a part of this war at some point. Even if you were a child, your tribe must have—”

“Caius, you forget yourself.” I tense, instinctually reaching for my weapon as I turn to the new voice. But as I grasp at nothing, I am reminded of my unfortunate situation.

I recognize the guard who approaches. He is the one who met me at the front of the castle the day I was brought in. I note that Caius doesn’t stand or bow upon his approach, meaning he is of equal rank. I also note that the guard is reprimanding him for almost revealing something. But as he approaches, he does something I don’t expect. He lowers his chin, bowing using only his head.

“The king would like to see you,” he says, watching me carefully. Not only are his eyes similar to Caius’s, but his scent as well. Whatever they are, they are the same.

I look away from him to Caius, but Caius won’t look at me. He has an unreadable expression plastered on his face as he looks out into the same view I was looking at before he came upon me.

The thunder rumbles again, this time so loud that it gently vibrates the floor, the sky darkening further. The smell of water in the air is heavy, and the hall slowly illuminates with the warm glow of the sconces as darkness settles over the castle, even though it is midday.

I look at Caius, ignoring the guard next to me.

“I spent my life with Peyra. I know nothing about who I am or where I came from. Peyra was my home, and that was taken from me. I’m not lying about that. This war happened when I was too young to remember it. And this burn is another reminder of a past I will never know,” I say.

Caius doesn’t respond, but his brow furrows slightly as he looks down.

“Take me to the king,” I say to the guard.

He walks away from Caius, leading me into the hallway, and I follow. I keep my head high and my eyes trained ahead. I suddenly look back, expecting to see Caius still looking out the window. But he is watching me. His expression is unguarded and I see…guilt in his eyes.

A loud crack ripples over the castle, and the sudden pour of water against the stone makes me look away from Caius from the shock of it. And when I look back, he is gone.

The guard who leads me to the king is silent, and I take the moment to gather myself, pushing the conversation with Caius from my mind. The last time I spoke to the king, I had my outburst. Unbeknownst to him, I lost control, emitting ice small enough for me to notice. I don’t know if he noticed or not, nor do I know how he took my outburst. I don’t remember what happened next. All I know is that I awoke in bed.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I realize I know my surroundings.

“This is the way to my bedchamber,” I say aloud.

The guard doesn’t respond. And I note that the usual guards who stand at the edge of my hallway are absent, as is the one servant who usually awaits my return.

Once we reach the door, the guard leading me steps to the side. He keeps his gaze forward, and I narrow my eyes at him, but follow the silent order, pushing open the door. I expected the room to be empty. I thought the king would either call me to the throne room from here, or at the minimum come in much later.

But he stands with his back to me near the lit fireplace. The fire is bright, as if entranced by his presence, the flames licking towards him to cast a menacing glow not only over his body, but casting a terrifying shadow on the darkened wall from the clouds that have formed outside the window. He is an intimidating Ancient even with his back to me. His broad shoulders and height are enough to give away the combat he is clearly skilled in.

His dark hair remains in a ponytail at his waist, and he doesn’t turn as I enter. His back is to me. A loud crack shoots from the sky, lighting up briefly outside the window before the sound rips through the room. It sounds like stone has been shattered, making me jump as a small gasp escapes me.

“Scared of a little lightning?” he asks.

His voice is deep and sonorous, adding to his intimidation.

“And yet you do not flinch in my presence,” he says, straightening his spine. “You do not flinch when faced with any threat.”

“Are you saying you are a threat?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

He laughs, the deep chuckle mimicking the thunder rolls.

“I am simply admiring you, Ikniri,” he says.

I narrow my gaze, stepping further into the room.

“My name is not Ikniri,” I say, louder than my normal tone. I want him to know I don’t like that he calls me by my race instead of my name. He tilts his head toward the ceiling, his hands moving behind his back.

“Oh? Am I to call you something else then?” he asks.

I don’t respond immediately. I don’t know if this is a trap or not. But I decide to ignore my fears, stepping into my bravery.

“My name is Nymira,” I say.

He scoffs, and I note that I suddenly see a small billow of smoke coming from him. But I don’t know how, or why. I suddenly feel a deep twist in my gut, but I ignore it as he speaks.

“Nymira…,” he says, testing my name on his tongue. It sounds powerful, the way he says it…threatening.

“Do you know who I am, Nymira? What I am?” he asks.

I narrow my gaze, stepping closer to the shadows. The heat in the room feels uncomfortable, as if it is radiating from somewhere other than the fireplace.

“You are a king, to whom everything under the sun belongs,” I say.

He hesitates, angling his head as if looking down. But his hair hides his face.

“And who told you that?” he asks.

“The human you keep at my side,” I say, earning another laugh from him.

“You do not know what that means, do you?” he asks.

I don’t respond, giving him his answer.

“Look on the bed,” he says.

I hesitate, confused at his sudden shift. But I do as he says, slowly approaching the bed. I half expect to see another gown waiting for me, but I only find a black piece of fabric. Tears form the closer I get, as I realize what it is.

It’s Peyra’s cloak. It still smells of smoke, and very faintly of her. I take in a shuddering breath, falling to my knees as my fingers brush against the worn fabric. And for the first time, I cannot control myself. I cannot prevent the tears from falling. I grip the fabric, pulling it into my chest, my sobs slowly filling the air.

I hear his footsteps as he moves behind me, and his hand rests against my shoulder, right over the burn I’ve had since I was a child.

“And so she breaks,” he says. And that’s it. I hear his footsteps moving away from me, and I don’t bother looking in his direction or trying to catch a glimpse. He’s given me a gift, and I don’t want to mess it up. I cling to Peyra’s clothing, letting my cries become audible, until I am screaming my pain at the realization that she will never come back. The faint scent of hers is all I have left, and once it’s gone, it will be gone forever.

Lighting cracks over the castle, drowning out my cries as I cling to the last piece of my life that will never be the same again. That much is very clear.