of Sword and Flame

Chapter 29: Emerald Green

 She was back in that clean cell, walls of iron closing in as Dr. Lithian pushed his glasses up on his disgustingly gleeful face.

"Your gift is unlike any we've seen, 0-7-3," he smiled. He kept on scratching more notes into the margins of his papers. "I would say the extra Lieken I gave you has been a success. The king wishes to witness your abilities first-hand."

Kyra clutched her stomach, staring at the ground as she threw up even more. The hand she had planted against the floor threatened to give way, but she kept on holding herself up. She had to hold herself up, for if she dropped, not even the floor would be enough to catch her.

She knew what he had been doing. The lieken from the past few months, doses she wasn't meant to receive, were coursing through her veins in ways she could feel. It made her sick to think about it, and more bile rose in her throat.

Dr. Lithian continued to scratch his quill against the paper. He hummed to himself quietly as if he were reading the daily paper and having a cup of tea.

"Come now. He's waiting outside, you know. He's waiting for you."

He's waiting for you. Kyra felt angry tears prick in her eyes. She was to meet the man behind it all, the one who had caused the pain and the purple coursing through her blood.

It took less time than she expected to make her way outside. She was dragged by the arm; a disgusting mess still stuck to her shirt from the nausea she could still feel. But she forced it down as he took her through the building. When they approached the doors, Kyra could hear several voices just outside.

As the door opened, she saw him. King Malum, standing with a stern look on his leather-textured face, pulled at the dark cuffs of his jacket. He turned, a black cape flowing behind him as he did, and when he looked at the scrawny little orphan girl with her rags covered in vomit, his face wrinkled in a manner that Kyra couldn't describe. But it was evident that the reaction was founded out of disgust.

"This is the one who is supposed to be the strongest?" He eyed her warily. Kyra felt Dr. Lithian's grip tighten on her arm. He tossed her forward, watching as the girl tumbled into the thick grass before the king.

"Get up," the king ordered. She pushed onto her forearms, and from there, she dug her feet into the ground, rising into a weak standing position, still swaying like a tree's branches in the wind.

"Show me what you're capable of," he said with his sickly, raspy voice. His eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at her. They were standing there, the two of them, in the middle of that grassy field. It was springtime, the leaves from the forest around them escaping their trees to flutter through the air. Kyra could smell pollen in the wind.

She had been there for so long. So many months, so many days she had lost track of. They flashed by in a blur of iron and purple. How many times had she stood on that green grass? Produced a flicker from her fingers that were so thin you could see the skeleton under her skin? They ached.

Everything ached. She wanted to leave. She had never wanted to be back on the streets more, where a hard day's work was to steal and trick.

The day Kyra was taken, the streets were cold and barren and still dripping from the rain. A little child, no older than eleven, was running. She ran like her life depended on it, like she would surely die if she stopped. In her arms, clutched to her chest, was a single loaf of bread.

A vast man's thundering steps behind her drew nearer. She slipped on the cold, wet cobblestone of the street, scraping her elbow against the grainy surface. She scrambled to get up, still clutching the bread, which had become riddled with dirt and grime from the fall.