Chapter 19

Keir

I knew what I was in for the moment he summoned me to his office the next morning. The time had arrived; his favorite time—my punishment.

I felt like a child walking into his office. I hadn't been the victim of his fury in over a hundred years, at least not physically, because I'd learned to pick my battles. My chest was tight with anticipation. No doubt, my father had been planning this for a long time.

It sent me back to the first punishment I'd ever received from him. I was ten.

"What did you do wrong?" he spat his question.

"Nothing, Father. I—I just gave her some of my food. I wasn't going to eat it. Sh—she said she was starving. I was trying to be nice."

His laughter boomed in the room, echoing off the walls and hitting me from every angle. Tears threatened to fall, but I knew that would only make him angrier. He hated it when I showed weakness.

"You stupid, stupid boy. Have I taught you nothing? Kings aren't nice , Keir. Kings are strong and powerful. They do not give things away out of the kindness of their hearts. They make their subjects work hard for it. Did you stop to think that maybe she was hungry because she wasn't doing her job? Hmmm?" He was standing so close to me, I had to look up at him. He was looming over me on purpose, trying to make me feel insignificant.

It was working.

My mouth had suddenly gone dry, my throat along with it. I started to open my mouth and offer more of an explanation.

The girl was just hungry. She was one of the servants' children and looked weak and tired. I'd only wanted to help. She couldn't have been much older than me, and the moment she told me she hadn't eaten more than a slice of bread for the last four days, my stomach dropped, and my appetite faded. I immediately offered her my food, which she was weary about at first, but she gobbled it down in a hurry.

My father walked into the dining hall as she finished the last bite and had the guards drag her away crying as he stared daggers into me.

No words would form. The way he looked and talked to me told me he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say anyway. What I had done was wrong in his eyes, and I would pay dearly for it.

He smirked at my inability to speak. "I am glad you see my point. Unfortunately, this cannot go unpunished, Keir. You understand."

I nodded. He'd been itching to get his hands on me for years, but my mother was always around to protect me, saying I was just a child and that a stern lecture was enough to set me straight. She wasn't here now, though. He'd sent her away for a ‘relaxing week', saying he would use the time to bond with me. This was the first time I'd seen him since she left six days ago.

He pondered for a moment, his fingers rubbing his chin. "Now, what would be an appropriate punishment for such an offense? I feel betrayed, humiliated. My own flesh and blood, heir to the throne, gave food away. I am disgusted and disappointed. I thought I raised you better than that, and here you are, gallivanting about being charitable. Do you know how that would make me look if it got out that my son is sensitive ?" I shook my head. "I would look weak. No one would respect me. They'd probably rise up and try to overthrow me, thinking I am inadequate, like my insolent excuse for an heir!" I wiped his spit from my face, almost missing his eyes lighting up. "I have the perfect idea." A chilling smile spread on his face.

No less than ten minutes later, I was on my knees to the left of his throne, facing the doors where the people of his kingdom would enter. Sharp shards of bone sliced into the thin layer of skin covering my kneecaps, cutting further every time I shifted my position.

"You'll remain like this until the last peasant has left. Watch me with careful eyes, Keir. See how I treat them, how I respond to them. The way I act with them is how you should act with them. If you give them too much, they'll take and take until there is nothing left. There is no room for compassion when you're sitting on the throne."

He was so cruel that day. Every person who came through those doors was denied their request. Most left crying, but some had to be dragged out as they begged and screamed. Even small requests, such as larger rations for families with more children, were denied. He cackled the entire time, especially when they wept.

"Their tears mean nothing. It's all a show they put on to try and get what they want. It's pathetic how greedy they can be."

Once the last citizen left, I was allowed to stand. I fought with all my might not to cry out when I extended my legs. The pain caused by the cuts and bruises, accompanied by the tingling sleepiness from not moving for several hours, was excruciating.

I asked for a towel to clean myself up with, but he refused, saying he wasn't finished with me yet. There was still a lesson to be taught.

He walked me back to my room, blood dripping down my shins as he talked more about what it took to be the king of Hell and that I had a long way to go until I was ready. He also said that one day, I would understand why he was so hard on me and even be grateful for it.

"Oh my Satan! Keir, what happened?" my mother shrieked as we reached the hall where my bedroom was.

She rushed to me and got down on her knees, inspecting the gashes and talking worriedly about how she shouldn't have left for so long because she knew I would end up getting hurt.

"What are you doing back?" my father asked coldly. "You weren't supposed to come home until tomorrow, Evelyn."

She was busy cleaning the red drips from my shin with her beautiful, custom-made green dress. The splotches of my blood would surely stain her gown, but she didn't seem concerned with that at all. Mother didn't look up as she replied, "I wanted to come home tonight. I missed my boys. There was no sense in waiting until the morning to return, and I'm glad I made that choice."

"You should have asked me first," my father said through gritted teeth, displeased with my mother's ability to make a choice of her own.

"Sorry, dear," she spoke softly, picking up on his provoked state. "I just missed you." She stood up and kissed his cheek, and he seemed to soften a little— very little. "What happened to your knees, Keir?" she asked, turning back to me.

"Fath—"

"He was punished." My mother gasped at my father's explanation. "Don't give me that look, woman. He has royal blood in him; he will heal without a scar. He deserved it, though. You are too soft on him, and it has made him soft. This won't be a conversation. I am his father, and I will act as such. He is the heir, and he will act as such." He turned on his heels and left us alone in the hall.

Mother fussed over me for another hour or so, helping me clean up and bandage my knees. She even held me in bed, brushing her fingers through my hair and telling me stories of her time on Earth until I fell asleep.

"Keir."

"Father."

He was waiting for me, his fingers laced together, elbows on his desk. I stood a few paces from him, staring, waiting.

"You always insist on going against me, don't you?" I met his glare with my own, refusing to indulge his baiting question. He sighed. "Keir, I will never get through to you, will I? No matter how much time and effort I spend trying to turn you into the next king of Hell, you can't seem to grasp it. Do you realize what you've done? Not only did you not tell me about the portal, but you ventured into it, met the human who opened it, brought her here to Hell, and had her close the damn portal . You fucking betrayed me!" His face was now red, sweat forming on his brow.

I stood my ground. I wouldn't open my mouth and offer excuses or defend myself. No explanation was ever good enough for him, especially when he lost so much due to my actions. I didn't regret it, though, not one bit. The moment I laid eyes on Lillian, nothing else mattered.

I'd defy my father a million times over if it meant keeping her safe. Hell, I'd take him on myself and slay him if I had to.

"I hope one day, you learn to appreciate the lessons I have been attempting to teach you, boy," he degraded me. "Remove your shirt and kneel before my desk." His command was cold, detached.

I did as he instructed, unbuttoning my black shirt before laying it on his desk, but I refused to kneel. Instead, I placed my hands on the end of his desk and looked down at my feet. I was no longer that scared child who would kneel and wait for his punishment.

My heart beat so fast and hard in my chest, I feared it would burst.

"Interesting," my father said from his seat. "I commend you for your bravery, but you will kneel, Keir, even if I have to beat you to your fucking knees."

I didn't dare look at him, not wanting to see the smirk I was sure was beaming across his face. I didn't even lift my chin as he stood from his seat and sauntered—so fucking slowly—until he was standing behind me.

My father was the dark stain of my past, the evil shadow that had always loomed behind me, the monster under my bed. He was the only thing I ever feared growing up, but now? I felt no fear.

All I felt was red, hot rage.

I gripped the edge of his desk until my knuckles were white, knowing I couldn't act on my emotions. That was too big a risk, considering the fate of my destined love's life was literally in his hands. Lillian's life was not something I would put on the line. Not now, not ever.

The sound of a whip being twirled in his hand found my ear. The chunks of bones in the tails clanked together with sickening thuds. I could just about picture him standing back there with a deep, dark, cruel smile from cheek to cheek, his muscles tight with excitement. His eyes were no doubt shining with sadistic intensity as he contemplated the first swing's target.

Whoosh . Crack!

I grasped the edge of the desk with everything I had, gritting my teeth together. The first whip had been painful, but I took pride in the fact that I remained standing.

I wondered how long I could keep this up, knowing my tolerance had been depleted after so many years of avoiding his evil punishments.

Whoosh . Crack!

I swallowed the grunt that forced its way up. As I took deep, consistent breaths, I pictured the only reason this was worth bearing: Lillian. My Lillian . Her smile flashed through my mind, the way she lit up a room when she walked in, as if she had no idea the effect her presence had on everyone. Her soft, pale skin that—

Whoosh . Crack!

Got all sweaty when we trained. The way her chest rose and fell when she got all worked up, whether physically or… sexually. Fuck . Her perfectly round tits. The way her face scrunched up when she was com—

Whoosh . Crack!

My knees threatened to buckle under me, but I held myself up with the desk, refusing to kneel. My vision of her was fading into black as the pain from the lashes compounded. I tried my hardest to hold onto her, keep her as my comfort while my skin was ripped to shreds.

Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack!

He picked up the pace, no longer giving me breaks between blows.

Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack!

My teeth were grinding painfully as I swallowed every groan that wanted to be released. I would not give him that satisfaction. I would take his punishment silently—and standing.

Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack!

I wanted to yell out the vilest curses at him, but I didn't dare open my mouth and make it worse for me or more enjoyable for him. My breathing was loud, in and out of my nose.

Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack! Whoosh . Crack!

Black clouded my vision, and my ears rang. I was losing it. It was too much. I could feel the blood dripping from my back to my hips, pooling at the waistband of my pants and falling in thick drops onto the floor beneath me.

I kept chanting her name in my head, hoping it would be enough to save me.

Lillian .