Page 70 of Once Upon a Crown
Thatcher managed another blow to the side of my head, and I tried to keep my eyes focused on him, but every hit was more painful than the previous one and my sight grew blurry.
As my head rolled to the side, I noticed Elara pick up the ring. Her eyes were filled with fear. Maybe she was calling my name. I couldn’t be sure.
“Thatcher, please! You’ll kill him.”
If I died now, I would be leaving her to fight all of this alone. Thatcher and Aries could get to her, hurt her or, worse, kill her.
I couldn’t give up on her. Not when she was the only thing worth fighting for.
My arm reached out and took hold of the metal helmet that we’d knocked over. Thatcher didn’t have time to react before I hit him, as hard as I could manage, on the side of his head.
The armour was heavy enough to cause damage, and a small trail of blood started to drip from his temple. He pressed his hand to his head, coating his fingers in blood. I took the chance to kick at his legs and roll him over so that he was under me again.
“You’re never going to beat him, you know.” Thatcher attempted to hit me again, but he missed, slightly disoriented. “Aries is too powerful. He will destroy you and everything you love.”
Though I would not want to admit that Thatcher could be right, Aries was already halfway there.
“He will end you and Elara. Both of you will be dead, just like your mother and your father, and the only thing left of your legacy will be two empty thrones.”
I didn’t care anymore. I brought the armour down on his face again and again.
Blood spattered across my face and the floor. I heard Elara call to me, but the noise was drowned out by the ringing in my ears. All I could see was Thatcher driving his sword through Jack. My father on his deathbed, my mother and grandmother dying at Thatcher’s hand. I saw Elara in Aries’ clutches. All the people I loved either dead or hurt. I was helpless to save them once and I would not be again.
Thatcher let out moans of pain, unable to fight back. I hit him over and over, and eventually he didn’t move anymore, but I didn’t stop.
He’d taken my family, my throne and my kingdom, and all I could see was red. Fire might as well have blazed in front of myeyes. Anger like I’d never felt before overcame me until hatred was all I could feel.
I only stopped when I was completely out of breath, unable to move my arms any longer. I sat back on the floor, heaving. Thatcher’s face was barely recognisable, and I realised I’d murdered my best friend.
Chapter 29
Cai
There was blood on my hands.
They were sticky with it and there was a metallic taste on my tongue. The reflection that greeted me in the mirror was not a pleasant one. Red coated my face and hair, staining it with evidence of what I’d done. Who I’d killed.
I was back in my old rooms. A place that I’d enjoyed spending my afternoons in, with a large fireplace, comfortable bed and beautiful view from all the windows. Now it felt empty and sombre.
Shortly after my fight with Thatcher, the palace had filled with all the loyalist soldiers celebrating our victory. I should have been celebrating too. But I did not feel victorious, despite having won back Mistwood.
I’d lost Elara in the chaos of it all. I’d heard her screaming. But was she screaming because she was afraid or because she wanted me to stop butchering Thatcher? I couldn’t have stopped. I was overcome by something stronger than myself. Something beyond my control. I was possessed by anger and pain and fear... or something much darker.
It could not have pleased Elara to watch such a scene play out before her. To witness me in such a way. I was certain she had to be upset by the matter. I remembered the way her voice sounded as she’d called my name.
There was a basin in my room, which I filled from a pitcher. I dipped my hands into the cold water, watching as red swirls of blood changed the colour.
Soap. I needed soap.
I started to scrub my hands, but the blood was everywhere, under my nails, in the creases of my fingers. I scrubbed until myhands felt raw, but still, somehow, they weren’t clean enough. My jacket and shirt dropped to the floor as I ripped them off.
The cold day caused goosebumps to form on my arms, but I didn’t care. I poured more clean water from the pitcher and washed my face before moving on to my hair. So much blood.
I didn’t want to think about what had happened, but the image was as clear as ever in my mind. I could still hear Thatcher’s voice and the last words he’d spoken. The way he’d spoken of my mother and Elara angered me still. The only thing I could see as I smashed the armour into him was the image of him driving his sword through Jack. I watched it over and over again in my head.
We’d been forced to leave Jack’s body behind and it haunted me. Perhaps it would continue to haunt me the same way today probably would.
There was a time in my life that I thought I’d never stop dreaming of Argon and that battlefield. But in recent months, every time I’d closed my eyes I could only see Thatcher murdering my family. I worried that the nightmare would morph into something new and much worse. Would my slumbers be disturbed by visions of me killing Thatcher over and over again? Watching as the life disappeared from his eyes and his face became unrecognisable. I was not sorry that I had ended his life. Not after everything he’d done.
