The Infernal King | 1 ✓

CHAPTER XXIX | INTERROGATING THE REBEL

       THEODORACIUS DRUMMED HIS fingers against the table unflinchingly, his left brow raised. "What kind of riots, Todorov?" He had clearly expected more riots—Maarit had as well, which was why she didn't know the reason Captain Todorov appeared so distressed.

"It seems that a rebel group formed not long after Your Majesty was crowned," Todorov's explained, his voice laced with a slight rasp. He shifted in discomfort and seemed to have a difficult time meeting Theodoracius's gaze. "Two of my best soldiers were dragged off their horses and beaten to death upon riding into the village. They kill anyone with any ties to the crown, and anyone who opposes them."

Maarit stiffened, her mind wandering to Helios. Surely he would not be foolish enough to join such a resistance. It would put his own life and that of his mother in danger. Helios was more practical, he wouldn't possibly...

"I am disappointed, Todorov," sighed the king, pressing his lips together tightly. "Why have mere commoners been able to defeat the best soldiers in the regiment? They have received countless hours of training, and yet..." He trailed off and the unspoken words spoke for themselves, conveying just what he felt.

The captain sighed and accepted the blame by lowering his chin toward. "The rebels have also set fire to the bank. Most of the flames were doused by the rain, but the damage has already been done. What they are truly seeking is to draw attention to themselves. To gain support for their cause."

"Their cause is to kill their king." A bark of mirthless laughter ensued, then stopped as quickly as it had begun. "Is there any good news?" Theodoracius snapped, a storm of indignation brewing within his deep eyes. "Or shall I relieve you of your command and become Captain of the Royal Guard myself?"

"There is good news, Your Majesty," he assured, bowing again. The captain was a man made entirely of corded muscle, yet he seemed to shrink considerably in size when standing beside Theodoracius. "We have managed to capture one of the rebels. My soldiers—the two remaining of those that accompanied me in Fribois—have brought him in for questioning."

"Very well. I will question him myself. Bring him in."

As the captain moved to exit the room, Theodoracius whirled around on the spot to face Maarit.

"You may stay or not, the choice is yours. However, I must warn you that I will end up killing him."

Maarit's breath caught in her throat. All she could do was nod slowly and remain seated. Her mind pieced memories and imaginings together—she could already see a faceless man with blood oozing from his heart, and the same manic look in Theodoracius's eyes that he'd had when killing the guard.

Of course he would slaughter the rebel.

She hadn't expected anything else from him.

There was a minute of silence before Todorov and two other soldiers entered, dragging a man. He was evidently injured badly, because he was nearly unable to stand. He also bled from one of his eyes, as though a dagger had gauged it. The swollen lid of the eye dropped to cover it.

He didn't even bother to struggle as Theodoracius approached him with predatory slowness.

"Todorov," the king said gruffly without tearing his gaze away from the rebel.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" the captain replied, twisting his body to face Theodoracius.

In one swift motion that left the man staggering backwards, Theodoracius reached for the sword at Captain Todorov's belt and drew it. Then, he seized the front of the rebel's shirt and held the sword up to his neck. The king was one exhale away from cutting his throat, but decided to speak instead.