Beautiful Torture *Book Two of the Beautiful series*

17) Decision

Sitting on an uncomfortable stone bench in a massive hallway, Lucy held her head in her hands as Hunter paced back and forth in front of her. "This is fucking bullshit," he muttered for the umpteenth time, shaking his head and earning a look from Lucy. Who sat up, leaning back against the wall behind her when she started to stiffen, stretching her legs out in front of her. "We have traveled all this way and they think they can just turn us away," he hissed angrily, turning to point at the giant closed door, behind which a meeting was being held on whether they would be turned away. "And an even greater insult to myself personally, they let the lizard in, but not me! A Familiar, a creature who has been aligned with the Forged long before they were creating Flames." Lucy hardly listened to his pointless rant, as she waited for them to open the door.

The only reason Alexander had been allowed in, and not them was so they could question him. They wanted to know just how much his life had changed since Sabrina put his Flame into her own daughter. Someone they no longer classified as a Forged, which was the reason they were discussing why she should even be allowed to learn from them.

"Will you sit down already?" She snapped when he began pacing again. "I am nervous enough and you are not helping," her tone was hard, making Hunter sit down beside her without having to be asked twice. He blinked up at the mosaic pattern that decorated the ceiling; a beautiful depiction of the elements—fire, air, earth, and water all swirling together in striking colors that seemed almost out of place in the imposing monastery. Too bright. Too full of life for the solemn hall.

Lucy studied it too, her palms budding with sweat. She tucked them in between her knees, the riding bloomers making it doable unlike her restricting evening gowns would. The voice of her tutor, Lady Katherine, echoed in her head. It reminded her to sit up straight. Stop fidgeting, lest whatever eyes that watched from dark corners know your weakness. She forced herself to be still. To stare straight ahead, unphased.

Time dragged, stretching further than the vast plains they had crossed to get here. The sun shining in through the tall windows sank lower and lower, inviting shadow in as the day passed. Lucy's back ached in earnest. She was hungry and tired and beyond all, irritated. How dare these so-called monks refuse a King?

Just as she was ready to stand up and start pounding on the council room doors, they were creaked open by two heaving slave boys, shoving against the solid oak with all their might. Lucy's brow furrowed in distaste. She had forgotten that they were in another country now. A country that had not outlawed slavery as Espen had years ago. She looked at the sallow creatures —teen boys with shaved heads, dirty tunics, and worn leather collars around their necks and wrists that made their status unmistakable. Unable to bear the sight of them, she looked towards the large figure exiting the room instead.

Her king. Dressed in his signature black and gold, a look of fury on his face that would have terrified anyone else. She wanted to run to him. To throw herself in his arms and ask what had happened. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palms from the effort of her restraint when she saw the monks emerge from behind him, one on each side. Their dark robes were tied closed with a crimson waist rope, a shade like blood. Lucy's stomach turned at how close the leader stood next to Alexander. The arrogance of it, as though he thought he had somehow earned the privilege to stand at the right hand of such a man.

His trimmed brown beard came to a slight point and he wore round spectacles of which he gazed over the top of, straight at Lucy. The monk to the left stood further back, a shock of golden hair and eyes like a blue sky. He radiated a warmth the others did not quite carry.

Soon they were all filing out of the room, shooting her mixed looks that ranged from curiosity to disbelief. One dark look among them startled her. He was taller and obviously younger than the rest with washed out black hair and sharp cheekbones. The pure hate in his expression shook Lucy to her core, but he ambled off with all the rest of them without a word.

Only the leader and the golden haired man remained in the hall with the trio. Alexander moved to Lucy's side. He did not touch her as the growing distance between them had made him cautious, but his stance was a defensive one and Hunter quickly rose to perch himself at her other side in a show of solidarity.

A flash of annoyance flickered over the leader's face, but he was quick to clear his hoarse throat and introduce himself all the same. "I am Monk Senior Grieves. This is Monk Chryses," he gestured to the other man who inclined his head politely. We have deliberated with your, erm..." he hesitated, muddy eyes flashing towards Alexander's stern face. "King...and it has been decided that we will admit you into our halls to be trained under one condition."

Lucy did not miss the way Alexander's muscles tightened when the man said condition. She felt a small shiver shake her at the promise and significance the word seemed to hold. Finding her voice, she summoned the will to speak. "Which is?"

The Monk Senior shifted uncomfortably, glancing again at Xander. Lucy got the feeling this had been a great point of argument between them. But it was also clear that this man was not used to being crossed, so he continued anyway. "That you must prove yourself."

Lucy raised one of her slender brows but otherwise worked to hide her emotions. "And how exactly do I go about doing that?"

The monk's chest Puffed up a bit at the level of impertinence in her tone. Lucy finally understood what her mother had meant about 'stuffed fools'. If the man's head were any bigger, his neck might snap.

"You will show us that the Forged magic truly does run through your veins. You claim your mother is Sabrina, known among us as the Spurned Temptress. The woman who brought on the downfall of the Forged race. Who broke our oldest and most sacred law by..." he hesitated again, looking scandalized by the mere idea of what Lucy was. "By putting this man's flame inside you. However, despite all this, we are fair enough to realize none of this is your fault and thus you should be allowed the opportunity to show us the extent of your power. If you truly can create a Flame, you are not only the savior of the race of Dragons, but the savior of the country itself. Perhaps even the world." She heard the hidden edge of awe in his tone.

Stunned, Lucy looked wide eyed between Alexander and the Senior Monk. Her throat and heart constricted in time. She felt Hunter grip her wrist as the words flooded him with the same rush of sharp adrenaline.

"Yes," the monk continued. "We are aware of the situation with the Dark God Endon. We know he intends to rip magic from the world and that he has returned from his hiding and now resides at Streatham with the traitor queen. This is largely why we are giving you the opportunity to showcase your power. On the night of the next Waning Moon, you will create a Flame. The first flame to be made since Prince Jamiesons. You will do this with an audience. Any trickery will be quickly detected." He spoke matter of factly, turning up his nose as if shutting down an argument Lucy might try to throw at him. She was not planning to. Her words were all twisted up inside of her. There was no way she could speak, even if she wanted to. Of course, he mistook her silence as compliance. "Very good. In the meantime, Chryses here will begin your training. You start at dawn. You will be given two rooms and three square meals a day. Do not disappoint us, Luciana."

He did not even wait for her to reply before snapping at the two slave boys to take their bags and then heading off towards the far narrow hallway where Lucy was unpleasantly surprised to see the black haired monk lurking. He had been staring at her. When the Monk Senior reached him, he began hissing something into the man's ear, a look of fury clouding the eyes still trained on her.

She quickly looked away, biting her lower lip as her mind raced. She did not even understand some of what the Monk Senior said. Waning Moon? What in the gods name was that? Her shoulders started to cave and she felt as though she was growing very small. Crushed under the weight of their expectations. She could not breathe. Could not think...

"Luce," Alexander's rumbling voice cut through the panic. His warm hand gripped her chin and gently directed her eyes to his. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out through pursed lips. Like the night in the ballroom, she copied him. Over and over until her head stopped spinning and she could think clearly again. "Good girl," he whispered, moving his fingers along her jaw before remembering himself and pulling the touch away altogether. "It is going to be okay. Let us get to our rooms. We will take this one day at a time."