Page 18 of Crowned A Traitor
“Least it’s a bit cooler in this heat,” Klara said, smoothing her hands over her prickly scalp. Klara looked away from her reflection, not because she thought she looked awful but because it made her feel powerless.
“I’ve seen worse,” Frendall winked, and Klara shoved her elbow into his side. He feigned injury as he put the cutthroat in its shield.
“Why did you join the ranks? I thought you were going to leave for the Human plane?” Frendall moved away from her back. “It’s a long story.”
“What? You decided to start following orders?” Klara asked, brushing the hair from her shoulders.
“They will be waiting for us,” Frendall said as he became cold and distant once again, “get dressed.”
“I’m not wearing that damn thing.” Klara blocked him from leaving.
“The wig or the dress?” he frowned.
“Does it matter?”
“We need to go. The King won’t appreciate tardiness.”
“Not until you tell me why you stayed?” Klara stood inches from him knowing he wouldn’t move her out of the way for fear of losing control of his tongue.
Frendall took off his sword and jacket, tossing them onto her bed and started to unbutton his shirt. Klara didn’t know where to look as his eyes remained on hers. At the first glimpse of his chest, she turned her back.
“What are you doing?” Klara asked, folding her arms.
“Giving you answers in half the time,” he said, and Klara heard the shuffle of removing fabric.
“I was a living breathing reminder of you. The King would never have let me leave. Don’t you think I tried?”
Klara kept her back to him, afraid of what she was about to see. Afraid of how she would react to him.
“Look at me!” It was an order, and Klara hesitated.
“Turn around,” Frendall said softly. Klara tried not to stare at his defined chest, from hours of training and labour.
“I don’t get it,” she said, moving closer. There wasn’t a single mark, and then it was his turn to turn around. There was nothing but perfect flesh and then she saw the faint glow, he was too perfect. The faint shimmer of his skin told her of the glamour.
After years of fighting and training, he should have countless scars or burns if not both. Klara certainly did and most were inflicted by Lilith and Lesser Demons who got carried away during sparring sessions. Klara’s mind drifted to the worst. Sensing her approach and his back rippled as he moved.
“Touch me.”
Klara sensed Frendall’s fear as she pre ssed her hand to his back. Klara couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. The glamour slipped away, revealing the pitchfork branded to the length of his back. Her fingers ran over each spike, moving from shoulder to shoulder. “I tried to escape, to get away from the King’s grief and cruelty after you were sent to the Queens.”
The longest spike ended at the base of his neck. Klara’s throat grew dry at the thought of the once ever-smiling boy enduring hours of torment.
Frendall took his shirt from the bed, “I thought I could find you, so I used a portrait to try and get to you.”
“The fork was your punishment,” Klara said as her fingers grazed his back and she could hear his young screams within her.
Frendall faced her and she dropped her hand. “The King put me in my place.”
“We were kids. He shouldn’t have...” Klara paced back and forth, his screams and the scent of burning flesh moved through her. “He tortured you and banished me to the Queens.”
“The uprising needed to be extinguished. You were safer away from here.”
“Safe? Abadan locked me in the dungeon for the first year. Starved me while Lilith trained me until my bones broke.”
Klara tried to stop the tears from filling her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“You think they deserve loyalty? He sent me away because he wanted me to suffer. A broken Heir is no Heir.” Klara’s bones shook with rage.
