A splintering pain shoots through my skull, stopping me mid-reach.
I loose a cry an
d grab my head. Through the slats of my eyes, I see Bax stir. Then he’s on his feet and his beady eyes are watching me intently. Conveying something he can’t say aloud. I shake off the pain and plop down on the couch, thoroughly vexed.
You’ve had plenty, princeling. No more. It weakens you physically, and you’ll need your strength today.
What I need is a gaping hole in my head.
Wondering if blocking out the dark goddess is worth the pain, I glimpse the bottle on the desk. How humiliating. A grown man who can’t even drink himself into a stupor if he wishes.
Shuffling sounds from outside the room. Bax backs against the wall. Then a loud rap has me on my feet and meeting Lake halfway.
“My Liege,” he says, winded. “Turn on the monitor. A live transmission from the Perinyian Court is being broadcasted.”
Through the haze of pain and annoyance, I can still appreciate Lake’s ability to speak like an educated human. Another reason why I tolerate him more than the others. Less stress to my depreciating “mental stability” when I don’t have to decode grunts.
He doesn’t wait for me, though. Even as he’s speaking, going on about the transmission, he’s at the monitor and flipping it on. Truly, I should always have it on, in case anything of importance on the war or my country is being displayed. But the lambent light increases my headaches.
Quiet your rambling thoughts, Prince. Pay attention.
I can hear the aggravation in Bale’s usual sultry tone. And I don’t filter my own thoughts before thinking how I’m unlikely to last another two days.
So, the mongrel has revealed much in my absence.
I bite down on my lip, as if my mouth is the cursed offender. “I thought my knowing would please you, My Goddess. Surely now we can stop our useless pursuit for the relic and its risky circumstance?”
She’s silent as I wait for my expected punishment. But soon I forget her altogether.
On the screen, Empress Iana stands upon a dais. I know the one. It’s where my father always gave his speeches. I’m angered that she, a woman of Cavan, has the nerve to address my people—until her words begin to process in my throbbing brain.
“Our alliance has always held strong,” the empress says. “We’ve banded together in the past, and as of recent, our countries stand together to fight dark forces that are threatening not only us, but all realms.”
Falling onto the couch, I let the bright light of the monitor wash her image over me. Bax is transfixed by her also. I admit, she’s commanding. For a woman ruler.
“Today, we hear your cries. Your pleas. We acknowledge your fear, for your children and yourselves. An evil has invaded our world, our lives. It threatens everything. We’ve heard your distress and now we, your leaders, come to you with an answer.”
She raises a hand and waves it to her left, and the loud boom of the palace doors opening sounds through the monitor. It makes my skin prickle with chills. Then, both countries’ councilors—minus one; our new ally, Teagan—guide a line of women onto the platform.
Bax pushes off the wall to stand closer to the monitor, his hands clamped tightly around the chains dangling from his wrists. “Prince…” he begins. Only his words die off as Empress Iana continues.
“The disgraced moon goddess, the banished goddess of mayhem and madness, has touched these women. Long ago, the Three Realms instated laws to protect us from such threats. Laws abolished once we were free of the dark goddess’s tyranny. But as that threat rises once again, these laws are being reinstated today. We will not live in fear of evil. We will not condone it. We will eradicate its existence.”
My eyes hone in on one figure—one woman who I would recognize anywhere. Although she’s dressed in plain white garb like the others, she stands apart. Her head held high, her silver hair—once the same dark color as mine—swept up into a neat twist. My mother.
I’m on my feet and storming toward the monitor as the empress says, “This evening, as the moon rises, we will cleanse this country of Bale’s influence.” She lifts her head, and I slam my fist into the wall beside the monitor. The screen shakes, hissing with static. “The madness will be executed and eliminated before all.”
Gripping the cold edges of the screen, I watch as she motions the guards. They raise their swords and herd—like a damn herd of cattle—the women and my mother toward a recently constructed cell behind the dais.
As the transmission comes to a close, the camera pans the crowd. Heated slurs and chants to end the crazy women touched by Bale filter through the speakers. Then fast flying fruit, I imagine rotten as hell, soars toward the makeshift cell.
The connection ends. A bleep. And I’m staring at a blank red screen.
“Fuck!”
My hands ignite white, and the monitor sparks. Fiery specs spray my face as I yank the damned thing from the wall. Ignoring the smoke curling into my eyes, I lift it above my head with a growl and slam it to the floor.
My chest heaves as I look down at the destruction.