Page 46 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Her father opened his mouth to reply, but he never got the chance.
Vallin shifted.
In a flash, he drew a short stake from his belt, something he always carried. Aryana had seen it a hundred times before, never giving it a second thought.
He lunged.
The king caught his arm just in time, resisting hard against the force of the strike. The stake hovered, trembling, inches from his chest.
“Aryana, do something,” her father commanded.
Her muscles locked. Vallin… the man she loved… he wouldn’t. He loved her…
Didn’t he?
Her thoughts spiraled, each attempt at understanding pulled into a vortex that left her careening toward an empty void. She blinked once, twice, but the scene refused to change. The room tilted, and she struggled to breathe, waves of pain and fear crashing over her.
All the while, her father fought for his life. And she just stood there as the man who’d claimed to love her drove the stake into her father’s heart.
Her scream came too late.
Blood pooled around her father’s wound, his lifeless eyes staring in empty panic. Vallin yanked the stake out of the king’s chest, leaving a gaping hole where it had smashed through his rib cage.
Bile rose in her throat, and Vallin advanced on her. She stumbled back. “W-what have you done?”
“Poor little princess,” he sneered. “Did you think that I actually loved you enough to bind myself to you? You were merely a means to an end.”
His words tore through her, crushing her chest like a fist. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the sweet moments they’d shared, to remind him of every whispered promise, every stolen glance.
But it was for nothing. Shattered. Ground into dust. Just like her heart.
Blood flowed from the gash in her father’s crushed rib cage, pouring out of his dead form. And the darkness swirling in Vallin’s scarlet gaze told her everything she needed to know.
She was next.
She tried to run, but he caught her by the hair. He swung her around, flinging her at the desk. Her head struck the corner and redflashed before her vision as she fell to the ground, landing in her father’s pooling blood. Pain pulsed through her brain and the room spun. Blood from the cut on her temple seeped down her cheek.
It was the cold brush of her father’s limp fingers against her skin that brought clarity to her. His slumped form hung over the chair, his vacant eyes gazing into hers, and one harsh word resounded in her mind, though she couldn’t tell if it originated from him or herself.
FIGHT!
Aryana rolled across the floor, stretching for the sword that always sat by her father’s desk. Her fingers skimmed the cool, smooth metal of the weapon before a hand latched onto her ankle. Vallin snarled, jerking her away. He dug into her skin, drawing blood as her nails broke against the stone ground. Her lifeline slipped from her grasp.
He yanked her toward him. “You thought it would be that easy?” He pinned her to the ground with his body. “You were so easy to fool. You craved love so badly.” His voice was harsh and taunting. He pressed the blood covered stake against her chest. “You should have had daddy dearest teach you how to fight. Now your remaining last moments belong to me.”
Rage, hot and burning, speared through the fear and she snarled, knocking the stake aside. She raised her head and bit down on his right ear. Vallin cried out and tried to pull away. When he did, she felt the tearing of his flesh.
He sat back, gripping where his ear used to be, crimson seeping between his fingers, and roared in pain. Aryana exerted all her strength to heave him off her. And though her head still spun, shesprung across the floor, seizing the sword in her hands. She spat his ear onto the stone.
Vallin charged her, growling and swearing, but she ran at him, plunging the blade into his heart. He tumbled backward, and she tumbled with him. He tried to grab her, but she ripped the weapon out and shoved it in again. And again. And again. And again.
“Aryana!”
Blood. Blood was everywhere and Aryana couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t…
“Aryana, open your eyes. Come back.”
Hands were on her. Arms wrapping around her. She couldn’t break free. She was trapped. Trapped.
