Page 39 of The Throne's Undoing

King Domitius smiled, but the twisting of his mouth only unsettled Myra even more.

"You are traitors to the Crown. Your fates are sealed."

He raised his gaze, his brown eyes falling upon Myra and her brother, cowering at the guards' feet.

Myra, unable to help herself, latched onto the invisible thread before her. It thrashed with an untamable darkness that burned at the touch. Still, she tried to coax the king's emotions, to bend them to her will.

But when Domitius cocked his head to the side and chuckled, she knew it was useless.

She was helpless. Too weak to save her family.

"On second thought..." The king spun the sword in his grasp, his eyes locked on Myra for a moment before returning his attention to her parents. "I can offer you this. I was going to take the one child, but I suppose I can make use of both."

"Please!" her father begged. "They're only children!"

"You're a monster!" her mother said, spitting on the floor.

"Enough!" King Domitius shouted. He looked at two of the nearby guards and nodded his head. "Turn them around. Let them get one last look at their precious children. Because if I am anything, I am considerate."

The guards stepped forward and yanked Myra's parents around. Her parents immediately met Myra's and Mynhos's gazes.

"We're sorry," her father croaked, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Take care of him," her mother whispered.

Myra bit down on her trembling lip as a tear slipped down her mother's cheek. Her mother never cried, and Myra knew then that there was no stopping the king.

The king shifted, and metal caught the fading light spilling across the floors from the windows. Myra immediately turned to Mynhos, pressing her head against his.

The sword slashed through the air, followed by a thud, then a strangled cry from her mother and a scream from Mynhos.

"Don't look!" Myra urged her brother, her eyes springing open for a second before she squeezed them shut as the blade whipped through the air again.

Yet even with her eyes closed, Myra could still see her mother's head fall to the floor, landing beside her father's.

The king's orders were no more than a distant buzz in Myra's ears as her ears rang. She kept her head pressed against Mynhos, her cheeks soaked with tears and throat raw from her screams. At some point, a guard yanked Myra and Mynhos up. Myra forced herself to look away from her parents' crumpled bodies as the guards dragged her away.

Down, down they went.

Mynhos screamed and shouted, his limbs flailing. Before long, a guard grabbed him, throwing the four-year-old over his shoulder and storming away.

Myra desperately yelled after them, trying to go after her brother. She had to be with him. Sheneededto be with him. She promised she would take care of him. Yet the other guard merely snatched her wrist and tossed her over his shoulder as well, carrying her through the dark, damp halls beneath the castle.

They passed cell after cell before the guard finally stopped in front of one. Keys jingled in his hand. He ripped open the door. Then Myra was flying in the air, the cell door slamming shut behind her as she crashed onto the ground.

A click ripped through the room, a piercing echo that solidified her fate.

Wiping her tears away, Myra hurried toward the cell door, her heart pounding. She slammed her fists against the door, shouting for her brother.

For hours, she screamed for Mynhos. Her throat was ripped to shreds, but she did not care.

Soon, though, her voice gave out. She pressed her forehead against the cold, grimy door, and her tears fell into her lap.

In the damp cell of the marble castle that dripped with anguish, Myra was completely and utterly alone with only her thoughts to entertain herself as time ticked by.

Her home had been destroyed, her parents were dead, and her brother had been taken from her.

Why was she still alive?

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