The prince ignores the insult and nods to me, "Kill him, Celeste. I know that you care for him. Let me see if the jets of hot blood will awaken your power—"
"No."
Terrified, I drop the dagger. He cannot force me to participate in this twisted experiment. Whipping me and abusing me is one thing, but murder…
His black eyebrows narrow, and my stomach sinks.
He is suddenly at me, the cruel blade in his hand, pointing at my neck.
"You dare to disobey?" he hisses.
"I cannot kill an innocent." My voice trembles, but I don't flinch.
"It seems you don´t understand, Celeste. It´s either his life or yours. He is a trespasser. This is already a crime punishable by death."
"So, this is what happened to all the dark elves who disappeared in your lands? You executed them. The other Hunters were right. You are a heartless monster.” Rage slices Cyrell´s voice.
“You mean the slaves who escaped your tyrannic Elders and sought refuge here?” Sparks gather and dance around the clenched fists of the prince. “I reassure you they are far better off here, under my protection.”
Wait a minute.
“Slaves?” I ask in disbelief.
We stare at each other in silence, the air between us charged and crackling with static electricity. With magic.
Cyrell squares his shoulders, as much as the restraints allow it.
“I am not responsible for the decisions of the Elders’ Council, and I do not approve of some of our traditions, either. You dare accuse my people of crimes, Prince? When the dead bodies on the pyres of Thaíl Vah´tlin are still smoking? When even the children—well, only the children who survived, still remember the carnage when your hordes of Risen found an entrance to our city…” I shudder, unable to imagine the scale of the atrocities from centuries of war. His tone drops to a plea now, “If you think that I deserve death for what my people have done, go ahead and deliver my sentence, but keep her out of this." I blink away tears. Cyrell's protectiveness is such a stark contrast to the Dreadful One's cruelty that it's heartbreaking.
"I am here of my own free will. I came here for her, not to discuss politics or the dark elves' ways with you, Dairell." He cocks his head in my direction. "I am not a spy sent by the Elders. Just like you, I’m looking for salvation for my people. And I think we all know how her powers work."
Both males stare at each other, and my nape hairs stand up, charged by the tension of this invisible clash.
Cold shivers ripple down my spine when my captor retrieves the dagger from the floor. Yet I manage the courage to look straight into his sparkling aquamarine eyes.
“Is this your final decision, human?” he sneers dangerously. I struggle to steady my breath, standing my ground, something I´ve never been good at. Until there is no other choice. I doubt he’ll kill me, my gift is precious, valuable to him. Chills run down my spine at the thought of the punishment that awaits me for defying him.
“I will not kill him,” I manage.
He strides to Cyrell's back, raises the blade… and cuts his wrists free.
"You are not experienced in the ways of magic, dark elf. The energy Celeste releases when she climaxes is not enough to change much in our world. We are still missing something, but I am about to find it." He lowers his voice as if speaking to himself. "Yet it seems you care for this human," the Dreadful One mocks. "Well, she’s mine now. Let's try something else then," he casually suggests, circling his prisoner. A wave of his hand, and Cyrell's eyes glaze.
"Dark elf," he purrs in his ear, and the glowing eyes of both males land on me, "you've managed to unleash her powers before," A morbid realization dawns at me, "do it again while I watch. Show me how deep you can tap into this magic well, blessed by the Serpent!"
He gracefully climbs up to the tall throne, the shadow of his wings trailing behind him like a dark velvet train.
Dairell – The Prince
M y mother did everything she could to shape me into a lethal blade that would help her conquer this world. Cruel and terrible as she was, I still have some endearing memories of her before she lost herself to the darkness.
All these were related to her expeditions to the human realm. The stories she told me, the artifacts she brought back. How many evenings we spent laughing heartily over the narrow-mindedness of that clumsy kind? The shenanigans she had orchestrated. Oh, how I begged her to take me on these trips, yet she had always refused, which led me to believe that I was dear to her in some way, that my life was worth something to her… until she did the unspeakable.
Yet something about them, their perseverance, their will to fight and survive, their mad passion for life—it was all so different and fascinating to my young mind.
Seeing the fragile female who has never wielded a weapon in her life slice the head off a Risen without blinking an eye got my pulse racing. How brave and desperate she was, her triumph mixed up with her tears of terror! I have never seen anything more beautiful and intense in my long life.
It was when she refused to kill Cyrell that I saw her for what she really was. Trading someone else’s life for your own is an easy decision for all Fae. It´s natural for my kind. Everyone would slit the prisoner’s throat, hoping to save their own skin.
