Page 25 of Of Nightmares & Fire
He pushes me back, letting go and causing me to stumble, and it takes everything in me to not reach up and rub my throbbing arm. I turn without looking down at the men below. I have a feeling if I were to see Kyros staring up at me right in this moment, tears would spring free, and that is something I will not let my father see. When I finally take my seat, I focus on my hands in my lap. I am both proud of myself for taking a stand and choosing who actually deserved my favor and also concerned for what will come of it. The decision will likely put more focus on Kyros and Mavros by default, which was not my intention. But as I look up at myfather and I see the way he and Pravin have their eyes glued to the brothers, the decision turns sour in my stomach.
The battle drums start their pounding rhythm. The vibrations rattling the ground and echoing off every surface. The fire keepers at each of the braziers toss a handful of powdered aluminum into their flames, causing a theatrical plume to light the space. An ode to the old magick people once had in our kingdom. A mockery of what is no longer allowed, and I grip the edge of my chair to stop myself from shaking my head at the distaste. The amount of people my father has killed because they have shown just sympathy for those who have magick or use any amount.
As soon as the flames level out and the clash of the cymbals strikes, the men begin moving. All but two are running for weapons that line the sphere. Mavros and Kyros stand true without moving a muscle, waiting for the fight to come back to them. And the fight definitely comes.
They are bombarded with attacks at all angles, but they move like a storm. Fluidly working together, back to back, they block each blow, disarming the other men with ease. My father and Pravin are bristling with pent-up rage. Each one has their hands on the railing, their knuckles blanched with how tight they hold on to it, and just noticing them makes me realize that I too have a death grip on my chair.
The disarmed men change their trajectory when they realize that they are not getting past the brothers' defenses and turn on each other. This is a fight that could end in death; it’s likely what my father would prefer. I, however, hope that they justtire—
“END HIM! END HIM! END HIM!” The crowd chants, and I can't help but lurch from my seat to the railing to get a better look. All of the suitors are panting, exhausted from the fight. Mavros circles, who I now see is Kyros with his knee pressed into Benat’s chest, my hairpin angled under his chin. He says something to Benat, which causes his already reddened face to grow deeper in color, and he spits in the direction of Kyros’ face. The crowd makes the ground quake with their stomps. Cheers are bellowed in response to the blood they see spray as Kyros sinks the sharp end through the soft underside of Benat’s chin. He rips his weapon free, the motion causing more blood to spray, and it coats him in the red paint of war. He spins it in his hand as he turns to face the stands.
To face me.
Our eyes lock, and a shiver of fear ripples through me at the sight of him and the almost intimate fervency that enters the shadows of his eyes. Crimson drips from his face and coats his bare chest. His tattoos blend together in a wave of shadow and blood, and with the mark of the death bell, the victor has risen.
Chapter twenty
Astraea
“Doyouhaveanyidea what you have done?!” My father screams at me. The power of his voice blows the hair out of my face, and the spittle makes me flinch. “Our closest allies and one of our biggest threats and their heir, whom I may remind you was meant to be thevictorof that fight, are now sitting in my war room, ready to discuss what I am going to do about this betrayal of yours!” He spins on his heel, tucking his hands behind his back, and paces the short distance in front of me in my bedchamber. Where I have been escorted like a prisoner.
“It wasn’t my promise to keep,” I say under my breath. His feet stop immediately, and hepivots to face me.
“What did you just say?” His lip is curled back, and his hands drop to his sides, where he continues to clench and unclench his fists. I know I’m making things worse, but something in me is choosing this battle.
“It wasn’tmypromise to keep. Therefore, it was notmybetrayal.” I say with my tone surprisingly even. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head, but I don’t stop there. “I followed the tradition that was set by our ancestors. Well, the royal family beforewebecame the royal family anyway. They can’t argue if they want to claim to be loyal to the realm.” I say, looking down at my hands and more blood I feel tainting the skin there. Even if it weren’t my hands that made the killing blow. It’s never my hands, but nonetheless, now I have Benat’s blood there.
I should not have taken my eyes off my father, though. The retractable switch that my father keeps in his chest pocket comes down on my hands like a strike of lightning across the delicate bones. I recoil, pulling them to my chin as I cry out in pain.
“I can’t even be the one to deliver the punishment I wish to because I have to deal with the repercussions of your actions!” With those words, Pravin slithers into the room like the snake he is.
“Wait, right now? Before my dinner with Ky—the winner?” I almost slipped by using his name. Marking myself a littletoofamiliar with the newcomer. It wouldn’t be like using Benat’s name, but he is too flustered to notice as he retracts the switch in his hand and turns to face his number one guard dog.
“Keep the marks somewhere that is able to be hidden; I don’t want anyone poking their nose where it doesn’t belong before the time is right.” He says, ignoring my questions, and strides from the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way… what’s it going to be, princess?” My gut reaction is to spit. I don’t know where it came from or why, but the saliva floods my mouth, and I let it fly into his wretched face. He is stunned silent for a moment as he stares at me wiping the spit from his eye, but after that brief moment, we both start sprinting. He chases after me while I run for my bathing chamber.
“You fucking bitch! You are going to pay for that!” He growls and chases me into the room. I don’t know what I was thinking by running to the only spot in my chamber that is a dead end. I turn around to face him, and he laughs. “Not a very smart girl, are you?” He taunts, and my lip trembles with building anger and fear. He’s only punished me a handful of times, but for some reason, it always seems worse. Dirty, almost. I look at him and the space he occupies in the large doorway. He’s not a huge man… I could force my way back into the bedchamber. I could try…
I run for the small wedge of space, but he is quicker than me. His arm snaps out, barring my exit and wrapping around my middle. He throws me toward the counter, where the basin of water sloshes as my hips ram into the stone. The heavy stone bowl wobbles so much from the impact that it falls, crashing and splitting in two as it hits the ground. His hand comes to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair that is still down from the battle, andhe shoves me forward. With his other hand, he rips the buttons of my dress down the back. Ruining it completely.
“Hold still, and this will be over quickly. You know, as well as I do, that it hurts you a lot less if you don't struggle.” He says through clenched teeth as he tugs at the material more. The seam in the back splitting over my ass. My eyes fly wide when the skin there meets air. He growls as he slaps my bare ass with the flat of his hand. The sound of the contact competing with the crack of a whip. I cry out in pain, and he groans.
I thrash in his grip, bruising my hips as he pins me harder with one of his legs. My face aches where he presses it to the counter, and with each painful hit, I hiss as my head hits the wall below where the mirror hangs. The hand that holds my hair becomes tighter in its grip. He's ripping strands out at the root. I can’t help the tears that bloom in my eyes as I finally give up my fight. My muscles weaken as I give in, and he rips my head back so that I can see my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are bloodshot from the tears, and my face red from the fight and being pressed into the counter. My hair is a mess of knots, and behind me he stands, chest heaving and his trousers tented. The sick bastard is getting off on this. Just as I think he's done, he leans down, rubbing his arousal on my ass cheek as he does.
“Why don’t I punish you a little bit for myself too? That stunt you pulled spitting on me…” The hand that isn't holding me down comes around, and he holds it out in front of my face. “Go on, princess… you want to spit?Spit.I’ll give you at least that before I punish you the way I really want.”
“I hope you burn in Zameil.” I ground out with my lip curled back.
“Fine… have it—”
“Princess Astraea?” My heart flops at the voice that comes through the bathing chamber door, and I’m quicker than Pravin this time.
“Be out in a minute!” I call to her. Pravin’s grip tightens a little more before he finally pushes me forward and yanks his hand free of my tousled hair. He stands up straight, adjusting himself and slicking his muddy brown hair back in its usual style.
“You pull that shit again, and I will make sure you can't sit on that pretty ass for a week.” He walks from the bathing chamber without a backward glance, and when I finally let out the breath I had been holding, it comes out on a broken sob.
