His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 41: Secrets Laid Bare

Author's Note:

This is the second chapter published today. Be sure to read the other one first.

Opening the doors reveals the king's bedroom is even more impressive than Trevus's. To the right are flowing pools made of marble, to the left are a pair of grand four-posted canopy beds, each large enough for five people. Mirrors and basins line an alcove beside the beds, and a second door leads to a closet bigger than my room. Straight ahead stands the king, out on the balcony with his back to me.

"Laranus, the matter better be of priority to disturb my evening this late," the king says. He's still dressed in his regal purple oban, his silver crown seated upon his head. He has no idea that his guards are asleep, oblivious to the situation he's about to discover.

I close the doors behind me.

King Tytius turns, and his eyes widen. I'm not who he expected.

I take measured steps towards him, my eyes never leaving his. The pendant grows hot on my chest.

"So, you are a lot of eight now?" he asks.

The pendant's heat begins to burn. I pull it to the outside of my shirt, breaking its contact from my skin.

Tytius blinks. My illusion is shattered. "'Tis you," he spits. Of all the sorcerers of Mephia, he harbors a unique contempt for me.

I continue forward. While Versillians don't like sorcerers, this man drives that sentiment deeper than anyone else. Now I'm hunted because of his rhetoric, blamed for a loss at Nepolis when my only contribution was saving his life.

"Laranus and Gabbius would forfeit their lives before allowing threat to mine. Am I to assume they have passed?" Tytius asks.

"They'll wake tomorrow," I say.

"Indeed. Your creed is to only consume the life of those who pose no threat." His initial fright has disappeared, the confidence in his julite returning.

My eyes narrow. I once made a terrible mistake, but I have also seen the ruins of Balin. This man murders with little regard.

"Have you made an exception for my life? My end would serve you well." His eyes jump to my left, to the bed. I notice it – a red braided cord that extends into the ceiling. It's an alarm.

I press forward, blocking his route to the alarm cord. "Don't ask questions for which you already know the answer," I say. "I saved your life in Nepolis. Between us, you are the only one of rotten morals."

Tytius's face creases up. "You consumed my life the day you murdered Mehlia, mit."

I touch the pendant on my chest, shielding my skin with my shirt. It's hot, but not responsive enough to lead to the julite from just traversing the room. He'll need to reveal it.

"Your confidence is misplaced," I say. "I removed the julite from your person hours ago. You are at my mercy, king."

He stiffens. His hand snaps up to his silver crown, touching the black onyx jewels mounted at the center. No – not onyx, julite. I've found them.

I rush towards him, leaping forward and crashing into his middle. We hit the stone floor with a heavy thud, making my shoulder ache. His large frame favors him, but my age favors me. I latch on with both arms and legs. I reach for his crown. He catches my bare hand in his, but no connection forms. I focus on the feeling of his palm against mine and push to connect.

My connection snaps closed immediately. A searing pain in my throat makes me scream. My vision blurs and my ears ring. Tytius frees himself from my hold.