Loyal Riptide

Chapter 8

       Taura's hands remained at her sides with no weapon in sight as she made that remark to Dorian, who had his fists so tightly his finger nails dug into the palms of his hands. Her hand swiftly came up to her mouth and Asa swore she saw another sly smile hiding under her hand. "Oops, I guess I shouldn't be speaking of her considering that she-" Taura cut herself off before spilling the beans to Dorian, who was still unaware of his mother's passing.

Dorian's eyes said it all, the realization of what Taura was trying to explain before stopping herself filled his eyes and tears trickled down his red cheeks. "Sh-she's dead?" He stuttered, his hands flexing from balls of fist to sweaty palms against his now wrinkled pants. Taura moved her hand back to sides, but that smile stayed plastered on her rouge painted lips. "I least she taught you how to put two and two together with that little brain of yours." She said, patting her hands against the dress she wore back in the throne room. 

"And it was all the Aenons fault," She continued, her steely blue grey eyes flickering to Asa and Shiro, "if they never came then your mother would still be alive." Dorian glanced at them both and back at Taura, "what do they have to do with anything? You are the one that killed her, not them." He refuted, his expressions turning grim. "And the fact that I trusted you, Taura. Like a second mother to me."

Taura chuckled daintily, "Even so, you now have the throne if you wish to take it." She announced, "so come with me and I can teach how to rule like-" Dorian cut in, "Like you? I hope not. I'd rather leave the throne empty than rule it with you being the back seat queen." Dorian stepped forward, but he halted when the sounds of thumping footsteps against the stone path rang out from behind them.

At least a dozen guards were making their way towards them with rifles gripped in their armored hands. They positioned themselves that blocked the way back to the guard barracks and the gardens with their guns aimed at the children. "You can always come with me," Taura offered once more, making her way past them and to the row of guards, "but like you said before; you can always leave the throne empty." Her hand raised up and swiftly came down and that was when all hell broke loose.

The sound of gun shots rang through Dorian's ears as he was shoved to the side by Asa. Everyone made a mad dash to the ship docked in the port with bullets clanging against the path on impact. But then the sound of bullet meeting flesh shot through the air and Shiro fell to the ground clenching his shoulder. He can hear Asa screaming his name and running back for him using her golden weapon to block the raging bullets from piercing anymore of them. 

She managed to get the wounded boy off the ground and practically dragged him to the ship, Dorian making one last look at his home and the guards before going across the finish line to freedom. 

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       His shoulder felt as if he got struck by a thousand lightning bolts and he wished that they could just chop it off and be done with it before he broke his vocal cords from screaming. Blood blurred his vision and all he can see is Asa over him with her tears falling on his face, washing away the blood not yet drying on his cheeks. And then there was the human prince standing off to the side with his face full of terror and disgust.   

"Stand back from the boy." A deep male voice said. Asa pulled herself away from him and a pair of deep red eyes met his. The man's hair was a chocolate brown with a matching stub for a beard growing from his slim bony face. He looked as if he wasn't much older than forty, but the way he held himself showed that he could be younger. 

His voice became slurred and less distinct when he spoke again and Shiro's eyes felt heavy with his head becoming light. And then all he can see was darkness.

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       Asa watched on through the glass window as an Aenon nurse administered another damp washcloth to Shiro's forehead. He now laid in a soft hospital bed in the Aenon castle with a hunk of bandage concealing the gun shot wound on his shoulder and smaller stick on bandages stuck to various places on his face and neck. His deep blue hair was matted along the hairline and his bangs where the nurse kept reapplying the washcloth.