Dark Tyrant

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 20 (v.1) - Mistake

Submitted: October 02, 2013

Reads: 156

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Submitted: October 02, 2013

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Chapter: Mistake

I shuddered awake, faint traces of a terrible nightmare ringing in my head, gasping. It’s just a dream. Just a dream…I assured myself, getting my fear under control. The moonlight shone through the doors, and a candle smoked on a bedside table. Something touched my hip. I screamed, even more when the silhouetted figure covered my mouth. “Hush, Angia,” a calm, male voice whispered in my ear. 

I immediately felt relieved, sighing. “My king?”

I felt his smile. “Yes. What woke you?”

I rolled onto my back, looking over at him on his side, resting his head on a fist. “Bad dream.”

“That’s…” Brutus shook his head, and I caught his indecision. Good was unfair because a nightmare is not a good thing, but bad wasn't the right word either.

“Please don’t tell me you have been here the whole night,” I said, subconsciously stroking his cheek.

He smiled at the question—or was it the gesture of affection? “I’m a light sleeper. This is my bed—hell, this is my estate!” He exclaimed.

My king’s eyes narrowed, and he smiled mischievously. “Are you flirting with me?” He asked, finally noticing the hand. I blushed so hot I was thankful for the darkness, and pulled my hand away. “No, because I’m so terrible at it,” I answered, looking away.

I could feel his smug smile. “But I happen to be a master at seduction…” And to prove his point, he gingerly pulled a hand from under the silky quilt and tempted me with its position. I tried to steady my breath with his breathing on my hand, but thinking of his supple lips kissing me sent my heartbeat and breathing to a higher gear. I started panting, and my heart drummed against my chest. He seemed to know all and noticed my every moment. Smiling with satisfaction, my hand was lowered. My hopes of a kiss were crushed, but I raised my hand suggestively anyway. He laughed under his breath, and raised it to his cheek, cleverly avoiding what I wanted without hurting my feelings. With the moonlight reflecting on his features, I couldn’t process the fact I was touching this god-like creature. “What are you thinking?” He murmured, leaning slightly into my palm.

I took a deep breath. “I’m thinking you look more like a god then a mere mortal. And I can’t believe it…”

His eyes flashed a light olive as he stared into me. I shifted my hand to his ear and started tracing his pale jawline with the tip of my forefinger. He grinned. “Now, you’re definitely flirting with me!”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Are you flirting with me?”

A hearty laugh sounded. “Only if I want to…”

Do you want to?”

He looked into my eyes, wondering. “Depends. I usually do if I need a laugh…or…”

“What?” I prodded, tracing the other side of his jaw.

“Or if you’re looking exceptionally attractive.”

I blushed, halting my finger. I reluctantly decided to change the subject, “When are we leaving?”

He turned more serious. “Not for many days. Judith informed me that the Ethropians have hesitated after my forces crushed several rebellions in the west. I want to buy you as much healing time as possible, and give Quill plenty of time to think about her disgusting actions by cleaning in armour made of iron.”

I felt solemn. “How many were killed?”

He bit his lip—touchy subject. “I’d rather not know. I only do what is necessary. I…” The king shook his head. 

I sat up, arousing a sea of pains. “I understand. But for me to think that you believe force is the only way is shocking. Have you ever tried reaching out?”

He stared at me with been there, done that. “Most of the outer towns in my empire only know me as Hisca, and they are the most rebellious.” He sighed at the nickname.

I gritted my teeth for remembering all of the people in my village who had it so wrong.

“They don’t listen, and don’t provide what causes them to reject my rule, even when the last ruler was a fat, hopeless case who took and didn’t give back—and apparently the people were happy. It’s so frustrating. I hate using force when it’s not absolutely necessary.”

I shuffled closer to him, so that our noses could touch with a little lean. My hand drifted down to his shoulder and rested there. “Don’t be. The people will listen. Especially to a strong, intelligent, beautiful king who is prepared to risk his own life for them. Prepared to partly donate his bed to a mere servant.” I leaned closer, centimetres from his lips, my rough breathing causing my heart to drum. I inched even closer, closer…closing my eyes. Suddenly, my eyes flew open, as, with a triumphant grin, the king pecked me on the cheek and jumped out of bed.

I grinned back, trying to burn with rejection and anger, but all I could manage was a laughed protest. “Hey! Come back here!”

His smile was blinding in the moonlight. “That was very nice what you said.”

I bared my teeth playfully. “And my compliments don’t come without a price!”

“You got your kiss,” he reminded me.

I flung the sheets off me, and crawled hastily over to the other side, sitting on my legs in an offensive position, wincing slightly from the pain outburst, “You know what I mean!” He shrugged, but lust flashed across his face for a millisecond. I grinned even wider, triumphant. “So you do want to kiss me!”

King Brutus slitted his eyes, “Don’t push it.” But besides his words, he leaned closer to me, placing his hands on the edge of the bed, either side of me. I took the gesture as encouragement and slid my hands behind him but was proved wrong: He lightly slapped me across the face, snarling. “Too far, too far!”

Suddenly, I welled up and spilled over, as he yanked my hands away from behind him. Tears streamed down my face. I looked up at my king’s stern and disapproving face. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, using a thumb to clear up the moisture rolling down my face. He stood up and leaned against the far-right post, arms folded, breathing deeply and closing his eyes, in an effort to get his emotion outbreak under-control.

“I need to go now.”

Panic rose in my chest, and I attempted to jump over and grip his hand, but a pain so intense with the movement forced me down. “No! Don’t! I didn’t mean it! Please!”

His eyes slowly opened at my begging, anger boiling fiercely in his gaze. “Don’t say a word. You’ve done enough.”

He turned to leave, but I lunged at his arm, crying out from the pain, just managing to grip his wrist. In a burst of absolute enragement, he spun around, and grasped my wrist, a crack sounding out of the joint.

My hand went limp.

I stared in shock as a pain like someone had started hammering nails into my bones erupted around my wrist. I screamed, while Brutus just backed away, staring and frozen with shock and disbelief. Sobbing, I yelled anger and abuse at him as the pain grew worse. While he backed closer to the door, the anger turned to panic, and I scrambled off the bed, only for my legs to collapse under my weight. My whole body burned, as I lay on the floor, reaching out to my king.

Brutus! Please…please!” I sobbed, screaming and flinching at the pain, which made it worse. I scrambled up again, took two steps and collapsed. His arms caught me, deep regret making his eyes fill.

“I’m so sorry! So, so sorry…” His whisper apologised remorsefully, hinting he was near to weeping, as he pulled me up to cradle in his arms. My wrist was like fire, while all the other pains seemed like sparks.

“Take me to the doctor!” I begged, as the skin around the joint started to swell. The king flew through the doors, and ran. An excruciating minute passed before he kicked open a door and gently placed me on a bed, running back into the darkness. A few seconds later, the king and a man in his thirties holding a candle ran out of a door. The man—who I assumed was the doctor—ran to my side, and glared at the king. “What did you do to her?”

He put two fists on top of each other and twisted them, before pointing to his wrist. The doctor sighed in exasperation, and bent down on his knees, placing the candle on the ground, and stroked the painful and swollen area. I flinched violently. He raised the only light source to the king. “There are a few other candles nearby. Light them if I am to do this properly.”

The king desperately grabbed the iron candlestick and ran around. Light slowly filled the room, revealing tables full of jars and several shelves full of drugs, medicines and books. The doctor was very tanned, with trimmed dusty coloured hair and dressed in his nightwear after a sudden wakening. The king suddenly appeared at my side opposite the doctor.

“I’m so sorry,” he told me, as I started panting and gasping from the pain, the tears tickling and irritating the hairs on my temple.

The doctor reached behind him and brought back a small glass bottle with a murky-white liquid and a bag of ice. “Tie her in.”

Brutus complied, wrapping fabric around several places, though specially positioned holes and tying off. The doctor passed Brutus the liquid, and then carefully set the ice on my swollen wrist. “She’ll take it better if you administer it.”

The king leaned down and kissed my ear, “We’ll make it go away. I’m so, very sorry Angia. So very wrong and idiotic…” He uncorked the tiny bottle and I opened my mouth, my whole body burning, thankful for the straps. Slowly, the white liquid was poured into my mouth. It tasted horrible, but I swallowed. The last thing I heard was a distant, desperate shout before everything when dark and silent.

 


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