The Blood King - Chapter Sixteen (Patreon)

Cassian

“You should kill her, Cassian. She is useless, and at this point, you are giving her plenty of time to grow her strength. You and I both know the only reason she is as weak as she is is that she was raised in those hot forests by a half-blooded Xindrite,” Xavien says, slinking back in his chair.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Xavien. We not only grew up together, but he is one of the Dragonborn who fought alongside me in the war. Once, the Ikniri were rumored to be extinct, he retreated within the ruins of his home, content to mourn his losses. Now, with news of the Ikniri returned spreading faster than wildfire, he has emerged, ready to continue with their eradication.

Unfortunately, she was telling the truth when she said she was raised by a woman in the forests. I thought she could have been lying, the same way she lied about her power and markings, but I left the castle yesterday to trace her steps with what we found on the cloak, and it only led me to the forests, the nearest Ikniri village being hundreds of miles away and destroyed. 

My anger only increased when I returned to find her outside of the caste walls, creating a scene among the humans. I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful to Caius. He went against my orders and allowed her outside the walls, thinking it would be an innocent last day for her. He believed she was lying, and once I wiped out the place she came from, I would come and kill her too. But his compassion has led to a revelation, as she has exhibited the ability to use her power, and the markings on her arm, which she was hiding with the necklace, from her tribe. It is obvious she was hiding the markings, so she isn’t completely naive. 

“She could still prove useful,” I say, mindlessly.

“How? How could an Ikniri of all things prove useful to us?” Xavien snaps, smashing his hands against the table, pulling my attention. It shakes slightly from the force of his outburst, and I slowly shift my gaze from his hands to his face, remaining silent as he realizes his mistake, the heat in the room rising from my silent threat.

“I’m sorry…It just brings up a lot of old emotions,” he says.

I continue to watch him as I stand, and he slowly moves his hands off the table, dropping them in his lap as he looks away. I move across the room to the window that overlooks the kingdom while I gather myself so as not to do something I’ll regret. But as I reach the window, the structure that she created is in perfect view. It still has yet to melt, indicating she isn’t a random Ikniri. Even if she doesn’t know how to use her power properly, she is strong. It doesn’t quite add up why she would be hundreds of miles from the nearest Ikniri village, raised by someone who wasn’t full Xindrite.

The way she speaks of the woman, she has no idea what she was. She is very in the dark about not only her culture, but the culture of the Ancients. But the way she reacted to seeing me for the first time means she at least knows about Dragonborns.

Could she have been abandoned before the war?

Then again, the burn on her shoulder rules that out. It has scarred, meaning it had to have been given by an Ancient, namely a Dragonborn. And I never heard of a Dragonborn attacking any villages before the war.

“Her appearance after all these years will draw her own kind out of hiding if there are any left. They wouldn’t leave her in my hands. It is not in their nature,” I say.

As I do, I think of the moment I entered my chambers to find her already awake with a blade directed right at me. She has a warrior’s heart. She has no fear, just like her people, even though she should be terrified at the situation she is in. My mind slowly wanders to the details of that moment.

It keeps me amused at how freely she moves in only a nightgown, the material so thin that I can see the outline of her form and more, including her pert breasts and the way her nipples strain against the thin material. Her wild hair fell into her face, her eyes dangerous as she watched me enter—eyes shrouded in white lashes. I made sure to heat the room and keep her warm, and she still didn’t seem bothered by it, never outwardly showing how she truly feels. Anytime I approach her, she remains stoic, never showing weakness. The only time she broke was when I returned the cloak of the woman who raised her. The sounds of her cries filled the halls that night, and I am sure everyone heard it—everyone was affected by it.

I’d admire her if I didn’t despise what she is so much. It is that determination, that senseless lack of fear and consequence, that started all of this. It makes my blood boil, and I want nothing more than to show her where she is in this hierarchy. She can pretend all she likes, but she will never live up to her kind. I’ll kill her before she can. Even if she is releasing power, it only happens in small bursts when she is overwhelmed.

She doesn’t know how to actively use it.

“And you don’t think it’s dangerous having her here? With you? After everything that was done? What if she learns the truth?” Xavien asks, earning a chuckle from me.

“She can’t even defend hedon. She won’t be a problem,” I say as I think of both moments I used my hedon. Each time, it took less than a few seconds to subdue her.

“Besides. I don’t think it’s her we need to be concerned about,” I say as I continue to study the large piece of ice that curves towards the sky. Humans have gathered around it, and continue to flow in from the corners of this kingdom. I narrow my gaze as some of them cut pieces away, taking them with them. Others just want to touch it.

They are making it into a symbol of hope.

Caius should have destroyed it the moment she created it. Now, if we destroy it, it would not only have been their symbol of hope, but it would also become a battle cry to rouse the enemies who have gone quiet. It may very well cause another war.

I smile at the thought.

“Xavien,” I say, turning away from the window. He quickly rises from his seat, bowing as he awaits my order.

“I want you to take your men and ride to the East. Gather Rykun and Gaellor. I will go see Silas and Hynden, and we will meet in the north,” I say.

“In the North? You mean—”

“Yes. It is time we all return home before the rest of the world awakens.”

~

Nymira

I finally have movement back. The room is dark, and the moon is high, shining through the window. For most of the day, my body has been paralyzed by the smog the Dragonborn released into the air. That, combined with the heat of the room, made this one of the most miserable days of my life. And I am grateful that flames have finally died down to small embers. But it still doesn’t help the heat that surrounds me.

I groan quietly as I move to the thick curtains in the far corner of the room. Though I have movement, I am still sluggish. My legs feel like lead, and my head throbs. I try not to think of how I became this way—how easy it was for him to suppress me. But it’s even more terrifying to think that he could have done this all along and chose to give me his version of freedom. If I can’t defend myself against him, I have no chance of escaping. 

I finally reach the curtains, my fingers bunching the thick material as I struggle to push one of them back.

“Oh,” I murmur in relief at the glass double door that is revealed. I don’t bother with the other curtain as I grip the knob, pushing the door open. The cool air quickly surrounds me, releasing the heat off of my skin, and I laugh, leaning against the wooden banister to let it surround me. The heat in the room was overwhelming, and I know now that it was done on purpose.

I slowly lift my hand, taking in the newest marking that has appeared on my skin. My frustration bubbles. I don’t even know what it means, or why it has appeared. And as I think of the Dragonborn who is keeping me, I understand why everyone thinks it is so strange that I exist without any markings.

I must look strange to all of them, isolating me even further from my people and being an Ancient.

I pull in a deep breath, focusing on my palm as I try to do something similar to what I did before. I gasp as a sharp chill ripples over me, and instead of a small flurry over my palm, a shard of ice shoots up from my palm.

I rotate my hand in confusion. It’s small, but different. And as I close my palm, it dissipates into a small flurry.

“I didn’t expect you to be up so soon after ingesting my hedon.”

I tense, whipping around to see the Dragonborn stepping out onto the balcony. I suddenly hate that I sat down as he towers over me even more than when I was standing. My heart slams against my chest as I take him in, and my nails dig into my palm as I try my damndest to ignore the terror that comes with seeing his face.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who pulled a sword, remember?” he says, grinning. He stands directly across from me, leaning against the stone wall as he crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing with the motion. I narrow my gaze, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” I say, breaking the silence.

Shock appears on his features, and he raises a brow.

“Kill you? Are you so eager to become a martyr?” he asks, in amusement.

I hate his tone. He speaks to me as if I am being ridiculous. But he has made it known several times before that the only reason I am alive is because he believed I was an Ikniri with no marking or power.

“I am ready to be done with your torture,” I say bitterly.

He shakes his head, looking out over the balcony. This side of the castle doesn’t overlook the kingdom. It overlooks the mountains that rise in the distance.

“I am not going to kill you, Nymira. You are much more valuable to me alive than dead,” he says.

Now it’s my turn to laugh as he reveals part of his intentions.

“So you are just going to turn me in to the blood king?” I ask.

He makes a face that I don’t understand.

“And why would you think that?” he asks.

“You are a Dragonborn. I know that all of you serve him. I know that he has returned. And I know that if you see value in me, then that must mean you are going to use me to get ahead,” I say. “It’s what the humans did.”

I flinch as he laughs. It’s loud, and he leans against the rail, tossing his head back as his laughter fills the air. His full smile reveals perfect teeth, with canines that are slightly sharper than the average human, and his dimple deepens further, making him look less intimidating.

“And what is it you think you know about this blood king? What did that foolish woman tell you?” he asks, his smile remaining as he watches me. I note that his eyes illuminate, the red glimmering slightly like the embers in the fireplace.

“He started this war. He broke the rules among the Ancients. And he went mad with his lust for blood and death, wiping out my people in the process,” I say.

“Hm,” he laughs, looking up at the sky.

“He indeed went mad with his lust for death. But it is clear time has diluted the truth,” he says, his smile disappearing as he looks down at me.

“If there is something different, then tell me,” I say.

He laughs bitterly. “And you would take the word of the Dragonborn who would turn you in to the Blood King?” he asks.

A heavy silence settles in the air as we both watch one another, the truth settling. We are natural born enemies. Trust is something neither of us will ever gain from one another. I am sure his people have a different version of the events, just as humans have created multiple ones.

“Don’t worry, Nymira. I have no intention of…turning you in. You are mine now, and I won’t—”

“I belong to no one,” I snap.

He smiles, but it is wicked. “Yes, of course. You can just walk out of here if you please, right?” he asks.

I know he is challenging me, but I will not look away.

Suddenly, he moves. I tense as he appears in front of me, his grip on my arm hot against my flesh. I try to pull away, but I can’t. He’s so close that I feel like I can’t breathe as he studies the marking on my arm.

“These markings mean you have accessed the power inside of you. But that is all it means. When you mature and grow, more appear. And by the time you are considered a warrior among your people, a fully matured Ancient capable of carrying on your people’s ways, you are covered in them,” he says, lifting his gaze to meet mine.

He is so close, his presence is so suffocating, I am trembling in his grip as his eyes search mine.

“You not only know nothing of your people, but nothing of your place in the world as an Ancient. The woman who raised you failed you. And you are now here because of it. You know nothing, remember that. And regardless of what you have heard about my kind, I am a king,” he says, his grip tightening as he moves closer. The heat he emits is warmer than the room was, and his eyes illuminate like the fireplace when it was at its strongest. “So yes, you do belong to me.”

He releases me, standing, and I grip my arm, desperately trying to forget the way his scalding touch felt against my skin.

"We leave in three days. I suggest you come to terms with that before you set foot outside of this kingdom."