Page 8 of Unseen Lord

So why, I wonder, is that sense of unease in my gut lingering as Asher places the crown on her head?

Chapter 3

Iris

They should have just killedme. It might have been easier. I mean, take off the magic blocking cuffs first, then kill me.

People think dying is hard. Nah. Pain is hard. Suffering is hard. The fear of the unknown is hard. Dying is relatively easy, all things considered. Especially when you know you'll come back.

I've died more times, and in more ways, than I can count. Some were painful and gruesome, some easy and painless. None as hard as what I'm suffering through now.

Whatever the Queen of Inferna and Midnight Star of Avakiri did to me, it hurts like a mother effing bitch.

I know you're probably thinking, seriously Iris? You were cooked alive and eaten, and this is worse?

Yes.

This is worse.

Why?

Because I have no control over the situation. I did not choose this. I cannot alter it. I am at the mercy of others. That makes it infinitely harder.

What hurts worse? Ripping off a bandage, or someone else doing it? Someone else doing it, obvs.

When we intentionally choose pain, we are emotionally prepared for it. When it happens to us, we are victims.

That's always harder.

So when I wake, I'm not a happy camper.

I'm in pain.

Miserable.

Half coherent.

But at least I'm not dead dead. For real dead. And I'm not in a filthy cave anymore.

So there's that.

And yes, I realize I'm being a whiny ninny. Just let me have this one okay? I've been through a thing.

As I peel my eyes open, soft light penetrates my vision, but it might as well be the rays of a thousand suns as it pierces my brain and sends shooting pain into my body. My neck throbs and my bloodstream pulses with a kind of ache I've never felt before.

Cool hands press against my throat and a woman's voice mutters words in an ancient language.

"She's waking," a voice I recognize says. "About time. It's been over two bloody days."

"Arias, you mother fu—" I choke on my own words as a flash of electricity zaps something inside me and my body spasms. "What the—"

"Try to control your temper, Watcher. It's not helping," the Rider says with what sounds like some gloat in his voice. Bastard.

The woman's voice pauses and she removes her hands. The ache in my veins fades as her magic pull away from me.

I try to sit, but the world spins. Strong hands support my back to keep me from passing out again.

His hands.

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