The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 25

"Do you know what these represent, my dear prince?"

Naru let his hand hover above one of the flickering candles, his pale eyes dull and cruel in the low light.

Kiro didn't possess the strength to lift his head. Even if he had, he wouldn't have, for fear of the wounds it would reopen and the blood he'd lose. He'd lost enough already, after the tortures of the past weeks.

"Souls," Naru hissed, closing his hand into a fist. The candle snuffed out, but the loss of its light was insignificant with the glow of the hundreds of others in the room. They were everywhere, scattered on the floor beneath Kiro's dangling boots, poised on crude wooden shelves stuck in the roughhewn stone of the wall, balanced in holders. "Each of these lights is one of your sickly species, Snake. All loyal followers of your demon of a father."

He stopped and smirked, fingering a jagged hook. The blade was crimson from its most recent use. "You know, he really got what was coming to him from your mother. He's been bedridden and healing from that stab wound for what, two weeks now? I owe her my congratulations."

"W-what do you want with me?" Kiro rasped out. A cough ripped from his raw throat, jarring his broken body. He bit back a scream and let the blood dribble from his lips. Its scent, coppery and so familiar, burned his nose. "I do not have anything to give you."

Naru's chuckle was the darkest sound to ever reach his ears. Kiro heard footsteps, and then someone grasped his chin and forced his head up, sending a cascade of agony from his bruised neck up his wounded arms. The chains that hung him from the ceiling rattled, and his shackled wrists, high above his head, screamed in anguished torment as the scabs broke and bled. A pained groan erupted from his lips.

Naru's mouth curved up in a smile that sent an arctic chill down Kiro's back. His straight, white-blond hair shone in the candlelight like spun gold.

"What do I want with you?" he enquired, his voice deathly quiet. His next words, however, were a savage snarl. "I want revenge."

***

The walk through town could've been pleasant if the sky hadn't been so intent on making Chad as cold and wet as it could. As another blast of cool wind cut through his thin cloak, he shuddered and pulled it closer, wrapping his cold arms around his cold middle. That only made him—oh, what a surprise—colder.

Nostalgia swept through him as a horse cantered past both he and Lillian, hooves clacking on the wet cobblestones, the rider smothered in a leather raincoat to keep out the chill.

This day reminded him of that fateful afternoon when his life had been turned on its head and everything had been ripped from him. The clouds, hung low and boiling grey in the sky, were the same. The dreary city, the people driven indoors by the weather, was as lonely as the road home, save for a few messengers on horseback. It smelled the same, like wet hay and horses, albeit there were a few added scents, all mingling with the rain. Even his cloak was the same, the drab garment being the only thing he'd managed to keep of his original wardrobe from when he'd first been thrown into this mess.

The only different thing was Lillian. This time, he had a friend. And they weren't going home; they were going to an inn to see two more of his friends.

Because that was what they were now. Friends. Not just people he stuck around with because he had nowhere else to go. They meant something to him, now, something special.

Chad snapped himself from his contemplations to watch Lillian's nervous, quick gait as she wove among the streets. Her steps were hastened, and she kept twisting her cloak. Though it didn't show in her expression, she was worried. And Chad was, too.