Black Avatare

40 | DEATH

"It all started with a king who was drunk on power—so much so that he lived in constant fear of losing it," Diyan said in a flat voice while staring fixedly at a point in space. "He ruled his land with an iron hand. No one dared to criticize him, and those who did were never seen again. Enforcers prowled the streets, and people were expected to worship their ruler."

Binara's idle eyes tracked the fire crackling and spitting out embers. "Your dad."

"Yes." He paused. "As I told you in Kurul, my father favored my younger brother. His name was Parakum, and he was three years younger than me. While Mayadunne mentored me in Hevana, my father trained Parakum to become his successor. As the years went by, my father probably thought that I was dead. I was sixteen when I returned to Polon."

"Why would you go back there?" Binara whispered.

"Because I wanted to become a better leader to my people than my father. That was only possible by reclaiming my rightful place as the crown prince."

She said nothing. Diyan was a demon, and he became one for a reason. Yet, everything about him contradicted what she associated with his kind. She had already surmised that the demons of Tiamsava were a different breed relative to those of Raa, but Diyan was much more. He simply didn't fit any box. He was one of a kind—more human than any human she had known. Something stirred in her chest, and the rhythm of her heart synced with his.

"When I returned home," Diyan continued, his voice so low that vibrations rolled into her, "I came up with a story to explain my absence. I told my father that I met with an accident, suffered memory loss and lived in a remote village. Parakum resented my presence. He had transformed to a younger version of my father. It was clear that I was not welcome, even though I regained my position as the heir apparent.

"When I saw the suffering of the people, the grave injustices and the brutality meted out to dissidents, it was hard to keep my head down. My brother's lavish lifestyle outraged me, and we got into multiple fights. In my own small ways, I sought to bring about reforms to alleviate poverty and address the people's grievances. This didn't go unnoticed.

"My father came to see me as a threat to his power. He assigned spies to shadow me and eventually came upon my secret correspondence with King Mayadunne. At this time, the Great Haunting claimed many lives in Hevana. Mahasona and his demons had overrun multiple villages. I was trying to convince Polon to offer aid and strengthen diplomatic ties with Hevana. My father suspected that I was conspiring with Mayadunne to oust him. In his eyes, I was a traitor."

Binara sensed the uptick of his heart, and her body moved with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still held her, and the cloak enveloped them both, creating a warm bubble. Despite the snugness, the cold took root deep inside—a wayward seedling that made her want to entwine her arms around him. She couldn't begin to wrap her head around the life he had led, rife with fear, suspicion and political intrigue.

"What happened after that?" Binara whispered.

"My father tried to poison me." His body tensed. "And he sent an assassin after me."

She gasped. "What?"

"Both attempts failed. One day, he summoned me to his private chambers. He had three women from his harem waiting on him. He was drunk—he had numerous ailments from his unhealthy habits, which had eventually claimed his life. In this instance, he was more drunk than I'd ever seen him. We got into a fiery argument. I was seventeen and more...impulsive at the time. I accused him of his crimes and the attempts on my life."

Binara forgot to breathe, and the very air felt heavy. She glanced up to find Diyan's face as dark as a moonless night.

"In the heat of the moment," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "he took hold of a fruit knife and plunged it into my neck."