Page 2 of Unseen Lord

“I…”

Her voice falls away as he enters the chamber.

The earth shaking under his heavy boots. His white armor a dark gray in the dim torch light. The rider.

His eyes fall on the trimantium shackles that bind my bloody, chafed wrists, engraved with runes and adorned with scarlet gemstones that block my renewal. He smirks, and I see Elias in that face. That smile. That raised eyebrow. It makes me want to gouge out his eyes.

He turns his attention to Arianna, moving toward the queen with no preamble. Steady, measured strides. He lifts his right hand above his shoulders, slowly drawing the massive sword that hangs strapped across his back.

"You don't need to do this, Arias," the queen says, panicked. "We meant you no harm. You had died. You were checked over by several of the best healers. I don't know what magic brought you back, but we had no idea what we'd done until it was too late."

"I believe you," he says. "But it doesn't matter. Your sin wasn't in thinking me dead. Your sin wasn't in burying my body. Your sin was in burying my name. My existence. In catering to the whims of the superstitious, you ruined what could have been. You ruined my life."

Arianna drops her head forward, her shoulders slumping as tears well in her eyes. "Do not ruin the world for my mistake. Please. I beg you."

Arias just shakes his head, moving closer to the queen with a cruel smile on his face.

The queen shrinks away from him, into the shadows, but she can't get far.

"Leave her alone! Deal with me!" I shout, but he ignores me and continues focusing his attention on his mother.

When he's within arm's reach of her, he swings the heavy hilt of his weapon and knocks her over the head. With a sickening crack she slumps to the ground, her new wound seeping fresh blood into the earth.

"Matricide isn't a good look on you," I say, trying to control my breathing and my impotent rage.

"Oh, she's not dead, just unconscious. I needed a private moment with you."

"So why not just take me elsewhere? You don't think you've tortured her enough?"

The Rider shrugs. "These caves are special. Lined with trimantium. You two are filled with the world's most powerful magic. I need a safe place to keep you. Sorry if the accommodations aren't to your liking."

"You could definitely do with some better housekeeping," I say dryly, hoping he's telling the truth and the queen is indeed still alive.

I squint my eyes, trying to discern the outline of her body through the darkness. It might be my imagination, but did she just shudder slightly? Was that a breath? I can't really tell, but I hold onto the thought nonetheless. Because, like, what else can I do, right?

"What do you want? Why am I still here?"

He approaches me, but stays out of arm's reach. Smart man. I may be shackled and magically powerless, but that doesn't mean I'm without tricks up my sleeve. I trained in many forms of combat in some pretty brutal circumstances. Uncle Sly wanted to make sure I was ready for anything. Child Protective Services could have had a field day with my upbringing, were they ever made aware of its nature. But the magical community has always remained separate from the rules of humans. After all, we need to be ready to deal with things that most humans can't possibly comprehend. So, in that, I don't blame my uncle, and on some days I'm even grateful.

If the Rider would come just one step closer, this might be one of those days.

But he stays in his shadows, watching me closely.

"He's not dead," the villainous man finally says.

"What?" I've lost track of our conversation, clearly.

"Elias. He's not dead. I should have ended him. Had every right to. But I didn't. I called Aya and she got there in time to save him, as I knew she would. I'm not the monster you think I am, Iris. And I need your help."

I respond by spitting the biggest phlegm bomb I can muster into his face.

He sighs and wipes at it with his sleeve. "Really? How juvenile, even for you."

I shrug. "I use the tools I have at my disposal. I'm resourceful that way."

The Rider steps closer, then bends onto his knees. Small shafts of light illuminate the white armor he wears, even here, draped with long strips of cloth to give him the look of one who has risen from the dead to haunt the living. Not so far from the truth as it happens.

"There's more going on here than you understand, Iris. The stakes are higher than you can imagine. I've done what I must for the greater good, and I need your help."

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