Chapter 17

S he did not recollect how she left Luiximor's chamber or whether the guards hastened after her as she raced through the grand halls, heart pounding, desperate to collect the thoughts that flooded her brain. A brain that had also memorized the patterns of halls, corridors, and stairs that led past her rooms, down to the throne room and the courtyard beyond. Thank the gods for her photographic memory, otherwise, she could never escape this maze and the emperor who desired her dead. All gods were bloodthirsty killers; alphas who had slaughtered thousands of people to keep their territories and then had turned on each other. She had forgotten such a fundamental fact during her short tenure in the palace and nearly lost her life. She would not make the same mistake again.

She ran across a dim hall and down another flight of stairs. She would board the first available boat on Ringold River and head far away. Perhaps then, she could stave off death a little longer. Hurrying round a corner, she thudded into a resisting body, a male body and one she had encountered before.

"We really must stop meeting like this," the Thevian prince exclaimed, straightening his coat.

His quick eyes absorbed the lace gown and fur coat tumbling from her shoulders, but his smirk was absent. Indeed, he looked sick. Dark circles were under his eyes and his face was haggard and white. He must be recovering from the stupendous amount of alcohol consumed at last night's dinner. Even Thevian princes could have hangovers so extreme, they lost their cheerful banter.

"You're in a rush as always, I see."

Maybe he was sick. She didn't care. Snow beat against the windows and the candles in the hall wavered as though a chill wind swept through the palace. "I have no time for your insults."

She stepped past but his arm blocked her. "I sincerely apologize, my lady. Insults are not of my nature."

She scowled. "Nonsense. You're a drunken fool."

"That's somewhat hypocritical, don't you think?" His voice dripped coldly.

"Get out of my way." She ducked under his arm only to find him again in her way.

"Wherever are you going in this wicked storm?" His gaze rested upon her in fury and with a surprising twist of concern.

"The emperor has gone insane!"

"What do you mean? Be specific ."

"He brought me to his bedroom and…he…he…" She scrambled for words to describe the horrors of what had happened and the terrible things he had said to her.

"Did he force himself on you?" His voice shook with sudden fury.

She blinked in surprise. Why in the world did he care so much? "Why, no. But if I stay here, I'm as good as dead. His advisors plan to kill me tomorrow and I think he won't care now if they did."

"Damn it all, I knew it." That familiar glint returned to his eyes. The smirk she knew so well. "This has nothing to do with you, I assure you. The emperor's heart is broken to say farewell to his beloved sister. I will be supremely considerate of her feelings today. As should you. He loves you and will do anything for you. You should be more appreciative. Such love is rare and should be cherished."

She rolled her eyes. "You are so fucking dumb."

His eyebrows raised in shock, perhaps the first real emotion she had ever seen in his face.

"Helen hates you," she stepped towards him in seething anger. "She wants to poison you after the wedding. Look, you may be a total arrogant prick?—"

"Such terrible words." That abominable smirk appeared like the sunrise, dependable and aggravating on the eyes.

"—But I won't have your blood on my hands. Consider yourself warned. Now let me go."

"HAH! HAH!" His laugh broke so loudly that she froze. "Who put you up to this joke? Helen, my beloved princess…murdering me? Splendid little creature, you are most amusing." His face crinkled with joy and a broad hand wiped away a tear.

"Get out of my way or so help me, I'll kill you and save Helen the bother."

Rafeal elegantly flung up his arm. "Damn it all. Then go. Run for freedom! But do keep that coat on. You will be most cold outside. HAH!"

It took her several turns through the halls to drown out the sounds of that revolting, bellowing guffaw. She found that she hated him a little less than usual. But she felt good about warning him. For all his idiocy, he didn't strike her as evil. Unlike the emperor or Helen. They were wicked to their bones. She dashed by the sentries quietly positioned in the shadows, and flung herself upon the front doors—those heavy panels of gold. One lay partially open and she tugged hard, pulling it wide enough to slip through.

She was outside. And in the middle of a blizzard. The sky was dark and snow pelted fast upon the palace courtyard. Her heart fell in horror. The storm raged so thick; she could barely see several feet ahead. She hurried down the steps, wincing as her slippers immediately turned ice cold and wet upon her feet. The courtyard—she supposed that she stood in the courtyard now—lay heaped with mounds of snow. She had to make it past the gates and to freedom. She staggered against the rushing snow, gasping as ice slashed at her face and arms.

The gates loomed before her, dim black sides rising up to the heavy skies. She stumbled against them, feeling the solid, cold iron upon her freezing hands, looking for where they stood ajar. A gap she could slip through to freedom beyond. But the gates were closed. She trembled from the cold and…terror.

She was not alone.

Dark forms approached her in the blizzard. Human in shape and wearing uniforms. Palace guards. They laid hands upon her as she screamed but the snow storm muffled her shouts and weakened her struggles. Her frozen hands were easily pried from the gates as she cried out in pain. They dragged her across the courtyard, sprawling tracks vanishing under the heavy snowfall.

"Let me go!" She shouted again and again. "The emperor said I could go!"

But her voice was carried away by the wind. She kicked and struggled, but they held her firm, half carrying her, bundling her movements into her skirt and heavy coat.

They passed through some alleyway and an iron-clad door opened up in the storm. Inside, a hall stretched damp, narrow, and dripping wet. Then came a long, endless stairwell. The guards dragged her harshly down the steps, careless whether she stumbled or fell. The light faded and the chill grew unbearable. She passed a barred door. Then another and a dozen more. A terribly familiar comprehension struck her. She recognized the stench and horror of confinement like other people knew a hug from a loved one.

This was a prison. Specifically, the palace dungeon. Someone yelled her name from one of those doors but she barely heard them. She had no more struggle left in her—no more screams as they flung her into a cell and slammed the door.

Vala dragged herself to the cell wall and instinctively curled into her fur coat, desperately trying to conserve body heat. Her body hurt all over from the brutal haul down the stairs. Why did she so foolishly run from Luiximor? He had never intended to set her free. She should have been quicker with his games, gotten in front of his ruse from the first moment he pulled her face towards his magical silver gaze on the city docks.

She was in deep trouble and it was entirely her fault. If only she had escaped earlier, when she had the chance. Luiximor had set a trap and she walked right in, believing she could think her way out. All he had done was throw her in a cell to wait for her death.

The walls felt so familiar…the dreadful waiting for some unknown horror, the utter lack of control, the realization that no one cared if she lived or died. She noticed the protection runes carved into the stones around her, preventing people from opening the Dynn. The wave of horror swept upon her so suddenly, she gasped. Panic clawed at her throat and snaked fiery spasms through her limbs. How badly she needed to breathe. She felt a deep, pitiful sob rise in her throat but she gulped hard and swiped remaining tears from her eyes. Crying never fixed anything. She must escape.

The resolution helped calm her and she analyzed her surroundings. Beyond the cell door bars, five guards sat around a table and tossed dice over some card game, waiting out the time. The voice calling out her name out as they dragged her down here…who had been that woman? Was it Greta?

Heavy steps sounded upon the floors, approaching her cell. She staggered upright, her heart pounding. She clasped the bars, looking down the filthy corridor.

The emperor had come.

His black suit and silver hair were commanding as he strode to her. That face lay still and unreadable, those silver eyes seeing everything at once. His hand made a curious gesture toward her cell door and with a shudder and smoking clank, the door swung open.

Luiximor waved the guards to retreat and they left the hall. She studied him, terror clutching her heart. Something told her that the guards had taken all remaining humanity with them. She was alone and with him .

"Come, sit." He sounded calm as if all earlier malice had been a dream of her fevered imagination.

But she could not trust her senses now. Her senses had betrayed her . He sank into a chair and placed sinewed forearms upon the table, shoving the dice away with impatience.

She clenched her hands for courage and stood her ground.

"Don't convince me to force you."

Her nails bit into her palms. "I will stay in this cell until you promise not to harm me."

His silver brows tightened with anger. "First your betrayal and now you have the gall to stand there and insult me? Anyone else would be whipped to death over far lesser insolence. Come here."

An invisible force shoved her forward. She crashed to her knees, crying out as she smacked hard into the stone floor.

The emperor glared at her. "I said come here ."

That same force pushed her again towards him, a cold, heavy thrust upon the back of her head, slamming her down. She lay prostrate, skull ringing from where the paving had smacked her temples.

"Have you had enough or will I command your ready obedience?" He crossed his legs, watching her with evil eagerness.

She gingerly felt her lips with a parched tongue and tasted blood. A voice responded that sounded like hers. It had been hers for seven long years in prison. "I have had enough."

Luiximor leaned back and waited for her to join him. She collapsed into a chair, her eyes fixed wide upon that angular face, looking for all hints of danger.

"Vala Flowers, what a strange reincarnation you have turned out to be this time around," he declared. His fingers played with the abandoned dice, palms shimmering with unspent fire. "However, you are not the first of your predecessors to betray me. I just want to know why. For once in your sordid cycles of existence, be honest with me. Why do you not love me?"

She calmly shrugged, hating his torment. An unspeakable rage surfaced and she found it hard to think beyond the words babbling from her mouth. "Maybe it's because you're a crazy, murdering fucker who doesn't understand free will."

His knuckles whitened, stark against his black silk cuffs. "I could kill you for those words. Right now."

"Go ahead. The Masked Man will avenge me. He'll kill you just like he killed Titus."

His eyes shuttered and she could sense his contempt. "I'm not afraid of a single assassin. I have an army of my own assassins at my disposal. I should like to burn him before your eyes, if only to watch you scream."

She did not reply. Could not. It was all too horrible.

He leaned forward, his eyes lusting for pain. "You know it is not an instant death. My fire lingers like a lover's touch upon the flesh. His skin will turn liquid and his eyes, melt into gaping holes. Teeth crack from the heat, nails curl, and skin flakes away. Still, he will remain alive. Only when I declare it, will he die. Maybe this suffering will be…educational. Perhaps that experience is exactly what you need."

She sneered, refusing to let his words bully her into fearfulness. "Well, at least I won't be so cold around all that fire. You should really install some heaters down here. Someone might accuse you of inhumane treatment ."

His glare turned furious. "What did your masked lover say? Tonight, this is about you. "

Fire burst from his palms and curled lovingly around his neck and arms. The flames hissed and flickered hot tongues at her.

She reminded herself that the prison guards punished her less when they talked a lot first. Besides, Luiximor needed her for the Noventury. There was still time to determine her escape. "Good. Kill me. At least you'll be done in time for dinner and I'll finally be able to get some rest."

The flames vanished, as she expected. "No, you will not die. Not while your runes run amok and my black hour grows nigh." He stood up. "Remove your coat."

She slowly pushed the fur coat from her shoulders. Her thin lace dress provided no covering against the chill that smote her bones. She shivered and clenched her fists for reassurance. He was going to torture her. She resolved then and there she would not beg or cry out, even if he drew close to killing her. At least she had her pride. Her freedom of will, as Janie had once said.

His hands sent the dice flying, making her startle. "Bend over the table."

She trembled but did as she was told. At first it surprised her that he did not physically compel her but then such a game was part of the torture, she realized. The wood top felt cold upon her clenched stomach. Her fingers splayed over the abandoned card game. She wished to raise her head, hating that he had moved out of her sight.

Something made a thin, swishing sound behind her and a red sliver of agony slammed upon her back, curling hotly around the flesh before ripping away, her system silenced in shock. Wave upon wave of pain seared through her body, fire pouring into every nerve, blackness washing over her vision. As the agony ebbed, she became conscious of the hot, jarring pain across her shoulders and the blood splattered upon the table and ground before her.

Luiximor paced around the table and she saw the instrument in his hands. A heavy, dangling wire, glowing orange from his flaming palms. He broadly smiled and she realized just how much he enjoyed this moment, extracting pain from her to satisfy the blood lust of his maddened heart. As the roaring pain retreated to a sharp, pulsing burn across her shoulder blades, the dripping blood tickling her unbroken skin, she found a moment to twist her face into a sneer.

"Why are you smiling?" His tone was as cold as death.

She gasped, her lips dragging against the table's surface, pride surging through her. She had survived and kept her pride intact. "I'm just surprised. I expected more."

"I think I should temper that churlish tongue." He gave her a long look. "I wonder if my advisors would mind if I cut it from your mouth. But no, you must be whipped. Your runes have grown quite a bit these past few days and need…significant curbing to be of use to me."

Flames raced along the whip. She shut her eyes but nothing prepared her for the agony that smacked her body. This time, she screamed and kept screaming. Her legs gave way, she fell prostrate across the table. She wanted to move, to flee or fight, but this time the invisible force of his power seized her flesh and paralyzed all movement. Perhaps the whip fell several times. Maybe two dozen. It was hard to tell when he stopped. The fire has slashed her back to shreds. She could feel the tattered skin shifting upon her back and she sobbed at the pain. Pain which sloshed through and burned every crevice of her body, finding escape only in the jagged rattle of her moans. The taint of smoking flesh hung thick in the air. She had smelled it before. The night they had burned alive before her horrified eyes. Her parents. She had killed them. But had the deadly fire flowed from the Dynn opening or her hands? Memory could play strange tricks. The doll that dropped silently from her limp hands, thudding into the drifting ash. The hooded man who stepped from the darkness and loomed over her, his thumb brushing away the soot upon her cheek. He had said something in a language she did not know but the words soothed her, speaking to some calmness deep within that had eluded her ever since ? —

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes, the effort spasming her face with pain. The table and her hands that gripped the edges were covered in blood. Tears fell from her eyes, unbidden. She dared not imagine the smoking, bloody mess of her back. Even the slightest move made her scream.

He stood before her. Streaks of blood dripped on his face and heaving chest. Her blood . "Good," he hissed. "I see you finally have found your limit of insolence through pain."

A shuddering groan broke from her lips before she clamped them shut. A muscle in his jaw twitched at her gaze and sorrow passed across his face. "Remember, you did this to yourself. I would have made you my empress and loved you for an eternity. But you betrayed me…again. So my advisors get their wish after all."

She barely heard him. Her body shook in the freezing air and her heartbeat was thick and slow within her breast. Black spots exploded within her vision and the throbbing jangle of broken nerves seared hot torment into her conscious thoughts. Something, everything felt wrong. The exposed and raw flesh, the loss of blood, and the death rattle shaking her throat. Awareness struck her. Her body had begun to shut down. She was about to die.