Yay here it is!
Behind on my schedule again sorry - I had to work hard for this chapter -sighs-
I hope you enjoy it,
Love Daisy x
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Chapter 10 | Responsibility
*
'K i l l me if you must,
but I shall not bow to a King
who wears a crown
studded with the jewels
of every life he has ended.'
- Anon
*
The journey back to Aether was one that Iris would rather forget.
It wasn't that she had expected it to be anything other than horrifically awkward, but she was unprepared for just how guilty she was suddenly feeling as she stared at Ezekiel's back – the blonde lycan leading the way forward silently.
He and Gabriel had been kind enough to her, but then she remembered who they worked for and steeled herself. It would be a miscalculation for her to assume their attitude was borne from their own hearts, and not simply an attempt to make her concede more easily to their King.
She would not regret her choices now.
She held back a sigh and forced her legs to keep up the pace Ezekiel was setting. The rush that she had felt – that had powered her through her entire escapade, was beginning to wane now. She was tiring and more than anything, she suddenly longed to see Arlo.
His absence was like a tangible pain in her chest and, now that she was surrounded by strangers, she felt it distinctly. Arlo would have understood what she was trying to prove. He may not have approved of her methods, but he would have understood.
Not for the first time during the journey, she tripped, just a slight stumble that she righted easily. Her long cloak – fastened down the entire length to preserve her modesty – was awkward to run in, hindering her movement and slowing her speed considerably.
Already she had heard his Majesty, King High-and-Mighty, huff in annoyance behind her more than once. She took silent pleasure in the fact that he had probably realised that if he had waited to reach Aether before making her shift back, they would be moving a lot faster.
He sighed again now, his lycan snout blowing down impatiently from above her, making her hair ruffle and tickling her neck. Unable to take it any longer, she half turned to look at him as she ran, snapping at him irately.
"Stop breathing on me. I'm already going as fast as I can."
A low snarl rumbled through the air at her back, and she imagined his reply.
You were running a lot faster when you left.
"That was because I wasn't wearing this damn cloak," she scowled. But nonetheless, she tried to improve her pace slightly, forcing herself to focus.
She made it another hundred meters before tripping again, this time pitching forward as she failed to jump high enough over a fallen tree trunk – but before she could humiliate herself by planting face first into the dirt, her arm was caught in a solid grip and she found herself abruptly weightless.
"How is it," a deep voice growled from above her, "that you can be the cause of such chaos within my palace, yet you cannot even manage a simple trip back over a path you have already walked?"
Iris scowled up at him, and Darius – thankfully partially clothed in the trousers Gabriel had been carrying – stared coldly back down at her.
She struggled violently. "Put me down."
He scoffed. "What, so you can inconvenience me further?" Anticipating that she would not give in quietly, his arms tightened a little more firmly around her, an uncomfortable cage of solid muscle. The material of her cloak that separated their skin suddenly seemed far too thin for Iris's liking.
"Not a chance." Darius continued. "I have better things to be doing than watching you trip over your own feet. The entire Lycan and Shifter race doesn't just govern itself."
Iris stared at him for a moment, before twisting her head and attempting to bite him on the hand. It was a half assed attempt and one that earned her a raised eyebrow.
"Really?" He asked incredulously.
She bared her teeth at him.
With a snort of derision, his eyes lifted from her face to stare ahead of them, but the corners of his lips curled imperceivably – an action so fleeting that, in her indignance, Iris missed it completely.
"Such pretty fangs, Princess," he murmured.
Iris felt her cheeks flush at his words – from anger or shame at being belittled, she was unsure. He had spoken so softly, she almost could've believed she was not meant to hear it, and so she chose to ignore the comment altogether.
Gabriel's lycan form suddenly appeared alongside them, jaws now free of the clothes he had been carrying, his familiar green eyes seeming to convey something to the King.
Darius simply shook his head, "Unnecessary," he grunted in reply to whatever Gabriel had said, "I can carry her myself."
Gabriel tossed his silver head lightly, seeming unhappy with this answer, but he fell back obediently so that he was once again running behind them. If Iris listened carefully, she could pick out the sound of his paws crushing the foliage underfoot as he ran.
They were still travelling at speed, their pace faster now that it had been even when she was being chased – yet the chest she was caged against showed no sign of fatigue, his breathing steady and even. She squirmed a little, suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot in her thick cloak. She was sure that the colossal amount of body heat emitting from the lycan behind her could be attributed to her flush as well – he was scalding.
"You can put me down," she tried again, her tone sullen, "I will be more careful."
"It would be wise," he rumbled dangerously, "for you to keep that mouth of yours shut."
Iris's jaw hung open for a moment as she stared at him, taken aback by his rudeness, before closing her mouth with a snap and folding her arms firmly across her chest. She scowled out at the forest as it flashed past her and resigned herself to her fate ... for now.
And well, if she were to look at things in a positive light, so far, there had not been any serious repercussions. She glanced up at the King sneakily. This all by confirmed her theory that she wasn't as unimportant has he had been making her out to be.
She had never, for one second, believed his comment about Arlo being the only reason for her move to the palace. Arlo had initially said that it was to keep her safe, and the presence of that assassin in the forest around Iris's home had only solidified for her that they indeed would have been unsafe, had they remained there.
She didn't know what it was yet, but there was something they weren't telling her.
With her thoughts otherwise occupied, it was a moment before she realised they had pulled up alongside Ezekiel. The blonde lycan was graceful as he ran in his human form, his eyes only showing the faintest flicker of astonishment at the sight of Iris unceremoniously bundled up in his King's arms.
"We will meet you back at the Palace," Darius uttered roughly, "the Princess has someone waiting for her."
A flash of understanding crossed Ezekiel's face and he nodded, his brows pulling together slightly.
"Yes my King, I apologise for our incompetence."
Iris frowned, unsure of what Ezekiel meant by that, but before she had a chance to ask, Darius had grunted and pulled ahead.
In the next moment, Iris's query was answered as Darius uttered a terse, 'hold on' before picking up speed at an almost incomprehensible rate.
Iris could not help but feel startled at the sudden change in pace, her hands automatically reaching up to clasp around Darius's neck as she sought to steady herself. The wind was intense, and she turned her face into his chest to shield her eyes. Peeking over his shoulder she found that they had already left Ezekiel and Gabriel far behind and she could only just make out the sound of their passage over the muffled roar of wind in her ears.
She swallowed thickly, holding on a little tighter, and even though the arms that held her never gave her reason to doubt her safety, she realised that she had never felt so helpless in her life.
The King had already crippled her with his power back when he had forced her into submission, but she had still seen nothing of his limits. And suddenly, in the face of this speed, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.
His lycan form flickered back into the forefront of her mind and although the wolf like beast bore no resemblance to his human image, she could feel the same sleek muscles moving beneath her now, powering him forward. Her hands clutched to the same formidable shoulders, the only difference was the skin beneath her fingertips instead of short, velvet fur.
And still, even at this impossible pace he showed no signs of tiring. She could not help but feel a little in awe.
They began to slow down, and Iris settled her expression back into one of mild irritation, determined not to let him see she was impressed. It was easy if she remembered who this person was and what she was trying to prove. If she ever wanted his acknowledgement, his skill was something she should be striving towards and learning from. It was not something she should feel so easily overwhelmed by.
He seemed to care little for her internal conflicts however, his own face now displaying the cold, aloof expression she loved to hate as he slowed completely and came to a stop.
He glanced around covertly for a moment, and she stilled in his hold, sensing that now would not be a good time for her to make a fuss.
For a moment, his ice blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Iris imagined his lycan ears pricked alertly on top of his head as listened for intruders. Her lips twitched.
As though sensing her gaze, Darius looked down, those same eyes sweeping over her face impassively before he lowered her down.
She let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding and stepped away from him, thankful for the chance to finally put some space between them. She tugged at the high neck of her cloak and hesitated only for a second before undoing a button – the skin beneath her fingers hot and a little sweaty.
Darius was still staring off into the dark forest behind them, his shoulders tense. Iris stared at his broad back and wondered if she should say something – but the next moment, it seemed whatever he had been listening for had proved it was not a threat and he relaxed, the curve of his spine softening slightly as he loosened his posture.
He strode forwards, stooping down to grab another cloak that had been tossed carelessly behind a tree. Slinging it over his shoulders, he did not bother to fasten it as he turned, merely tugging the hood forward to hide his mane of golden hair before turning to walk back towards Iris.
She immediately braced herself – for what, she didn't know – but he didn't even spare her a glance, continuing past her in a direction that no doubt led to Aether.
"Keep up."
Iris scowled, but grudgingly turned to follow after him.
*
It was not long before the Jade city appeared in Iris's line of vision, the forest spitting them back out onto the main path that Iris had taken before entering the city for the first time.
As they crossed the bridge and entered the city, Iris had never been so thankful for her hooded cloak as she was now. She could feel the stares on her, even though her face was hidden in shadow, it felt as if their eyes were burning into her from every direction. Why they were staring, Iris could assume it was only because she followed the King. In fact, if she were honest, she was a little surprised that the King could so boldly stride through the crowds as he was doing now. For some reason, she had not imagined that he would display his presence so openly. She wondered if this was the 'pack' mentality that Arlo had told her of.
Darius did not speak as he strode forward through the bustling crowds, his passage seemingly easy as the people in front of him appeared to melt away before he even approached – yet closed up behind him just as quickly.
Iris felt herself falling behind yet again and she gritted her teeth, forcing her feet to quicken so she did not lose to him a second time.
Looking over his shoulder, Darius found her struggling and he reached out to snag her hand, pulling her forward impatiently.
"Hurry up."
"I'm trying," she groused, "but everyone moves for you." She made to yank her hand back, but he held on more firmly, pulling her until she walked just slightly in front of him.
"Of course, they do," he growled, leaning down slightly as he spoke to her, "I am their King."
Safe in the knowledge he could not see her face, she rolled her eyes. I am their King, she mimicked silently from beneath her cloak.
If she thought about it, Iris did realise that she was being disrespectful. However, she just couldn't seem to help herself. Perhaps it was his relation to Arlo that made it difficult for Iris to take this King seriously. While the two of them were as different as night and day – at least in Iris's eyes – when she saw him, she could not help but inadvertently think of her guardian also.
And now, with one hand tightly enfolding her own and his other hand firmly, yet gently grasping her other arm, Iris could almost trick herself into thinking it was Arlo who guided her forwards through the crowds.
She scowled and tried to remove her hand again. "I'm fine now," she grumbled. She could not allow herself to mistake this person for someone he was not. She was not so naive.
"Try to let go one more time and I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you back myself," Darius warned her irately, squeezing her hand so hard that she felt her circulation cut off momentarily.
Iris resisted the urge to bite him again. "Then stop trying to break my fingers," she snapped at him, "you're holding too tightly."
He snarled lowly, a violent rumble that she felt at the join between his chest and her back as he pressed them forwards. "Maybe if you weren't so disobedient then I wouldn't have to."
Her head snapped to the side and she sent him a glare that he returned ten-fold. She didn't have an answer for that one.
The rest of their walk back was silent, Iris keeping her head down as she fumed quietly beneath her hood. She was still confused as to why Darius was rushing their return to the palace in the first place and the man himself made no attempt to clarify the situation.
Upon reaching the main palace gates, Darius swept through without any concern for the panicked expressions of the guards who scrambled to open them – caught by surprise at the abrupt arrival of their King.
Instead of heading up the path towards the palace like Iris thought they would, they took a different path – one that led away to the side. After some thought, Iris realised that it was the path that the female lycan had taken their horses down when they had first arrived at the palace.
She followed silently behind Darius, her curiosity growing. Where were they going?
The path led them into the gardens, although it was a part that Iris most definitely had not explored before. Through a canopy of trees they went, the loose stones crunching underfoot, around another corner, with Darius's hand still holding her own firmly.
And then suddenly a horrible feeling struck Iris in gut and before she even realised, her feet had stuttered to a stop, her heart beating irrationally fast as she looked up into the face of the King who – at her hesitation – had turned to look back at her consideringly.
He took in her wide eyes and grunted, turning to pull her forward once more. "It is good if you are afraid," he said darkly, "only a senseless fool would not fear this place."
Her breathing was quick, uneven, all her senses on high alert. "W-where are you taking me," she panicked, her imagination running wild. Was she going to be punished after all?
"You will see," was his only reply.
She struggled against his grip, abruptly terrified of wherever he was leading her. A pungent smell wafted ahead of them – subtle, yet present enough that Iris's instinct for self-preservation kicked into overdrive. Wherever he was taking her, it was not a good place. She could smell fear in the air, it curled around her limbs like non existent smoke and held her captive. If she went forward any further, she feared she wouldn't have the strength to escape.
"No," she gasped, "I don't want to."
"Silence," he rumbled, tugging her forward, "you will come. And you will face the consequences of your actions."
They rounded another corner and Iris saw a door in the ground in front of them. It was open, and two guards stood stationed at either side. Upon seeing their King, they bowed lowly.
"Majesty. The man is inside, as you ordered."
"Good," Darius grunted.
Iris made one last ditch effort to dig in her feet. She grasped his arm tightly with her free hand, tugging on his cloak till he looked at her. There was something lodged in her throat as she shivered under his cold-eyed stare.
"Please," she whispered helplessly, "don't make me go in there."
He was silent for a moment as he stared down at her impassively. She thought she saw his eyes soften slightly, but in a second it was gone, and his lips were curling downwards in a grimace as he looked away from her with distain.
"What a pity," he said, and she felt herself recoil at the clear displeasure in his tone, "you were doing so well until now."
His words made her freeze and when he stepped forward out of her grip, it wasn't until her hand pulled taunt in his own that she stumbled forward after him, her mind numb.
His meaning slowly sunk in and she gritted her teeth, glaring daggers into the back of his head. Looking past him to the hole in the ground, her sense of fear intensified yet again and she almost felt herself collapse on the spot.
What was that place? She had never, never felt fear like this before. Only her night terrors came close to the feeling – except she could not wake up from this.
The dark entrance loomed and abruptly Iris knew.
People have died in there.
The single thought blocked her mind of everything else.
If I go in there, will I die?
The thought was irrational, Iris knew. But it did not stop her from thinking it.
She had no more time to prepare herself either, as Darius was abruptly dragging her through and down the steps that had been hidden by the shadow of the entry way.
Iris cast a quick look behind her, finding some small relief when the door behind them remained open. As they ventured down deeper, and the stench of blood and fear became stronger, Iris could not help but look behind her fervently, the small patch of moonlight that indicated her escape like a quiet strength lingering behind her.
Her irrational fear had not waned in the least, but gradually Iris began to think logically again through the cloud of panic. And a memory of Arlo suddenly appeared in her mind, her guardian's words soft as he guided her through the aftermath of one of her nightmares.
Breathe, Beauty. Find what is real, and what is not real. Your fear is only in your mind. But I am here. I am real.
Darius's hand, was hot in hers, unmistakeably real. He held her own in a solid grip – uncomfortable, but not malicious.
Iris raised her head and fixed her gaze on his solid back. He was steady as a rock in a raging river, his steps purposeful, his breathing even. Iris forced herself to match his breathing, concentrating on pushing power to her ears until she could pick up his heartbeat, the rhythm calm and strong. She slowed her own breathing until her heartbeat matched his, the pace only slightly quicker.
She managed to keep her composure until they reached the last step and he suddenly let go of her hand.
She managed to resist the urge to reach out and snatch it back, a light flush spreading across her cheeks. Instead, she gathered her hands against her chest, and hurried to keep up with him, least she fall behind in the ominously lit corridor that had opened up in front of them.
The scent of blood thickened impossibly, and Iris struggled to keep her breathing steady as she glanced furtively around her.
They were walking down a long stone corridor that was lined with cells. Iris's first thought was that it was some kind of dungeon. But although she glanced into the cells on either side, she could not make out any people within, an inky blackness concealing everything within the first two feet of the bars.
There were no windows, and although the paving stones beneath Iris's shoes were relatively clean and there was nothing that indicated the source of such a stench, the smell of death still lingered around Iris, like a tangible being.
Somewhere, the sound of dripping water echoed. The hollow noise almost forgettable at first – yet the longer Iris listened, the more she felt as though it were a drip that was slowly needling into her skull.
Surely, surely no one deserved a prison like this.
"Where are we?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she could not help but flinch as her words bounced around them with a loudness she had not expected before disappearing off into dark cells surrounding them She lowered her voice a little more. "Is this the prison?"
"It is one of three." Darius's voice was nonchalant in his reply, and he did not attempt to lower his voice like she had. As a result, his words echoed through their surroundings and Iris glanced around them furtively, half expecting a face to suddenly appear out of the unnatural black of the cells.
She imagined them pale from lack of sunlight, pressing themselves to the bars as they watched her with crazed, bloodshot eyes. She imagined arms reaching out towards her on either side, stretching for her as though by touching her they could sap her of her freedom.
She shivered. She didn't want to be here.
"You have a need for so many?" She asked suddenly desperate to hear him speak again. The power in his tone seemed to dispel the murderous pressure of the dungeon somewhat, like the sun emerging over the treetops, chasing away the last vestiges of the night.
Ironic, Iris thought, seeing how he was most likely the cause of such an aura existing in the first place.
"We did, once," Darius said, not bothering to look back at her as he talked, "but now we mainly use this one. The others are in a more ... remote location. They better serve our long-term inmates."
"What, because you never visit them?" Iris bit out sarcastically.
Darius snorted. "Something like that. Come, we are here."
They had reached the end of the hall and were now standing in front of a sturdy wooden door. Iris's feet slowed as she stared up at Darius with an incredulous expression, half-horrified by his reply. "I wasn't being serious," she hissed, taking a step forward. "What could any one even do that could be that bad-
"Enough," Darius turned to her, the command ringing out in the space around them, as he stared down at her intensely. She felt the power in his gaze and in his voice, and before she even realised it, she was looking at her feet.
"That is enough," he continued, his expression now hidden from her line of vision, "you have already pushed past the limits of my patience today and if you know what is good for you, you will stop there." His voice lowered dangerously, "Others would have been found themselves in one of these cells if they dared to cause even half of the trouble you have caused tonight. And that's being generous."
Wisely, she kept silent and did not lift her head until she heard him knock on the door in front of them. There was a moment of pause before the door opened and Darius stepped through without pause.
Iris followed, unwilling to be left behind in that horrible hallway with its maybe-occupied cells and the eyes she could feel but could not see.
The door snapped shut behind them and Iris started slightly before gathering herself and looking around. They were in a stone room, more well lit than the one they had just walked through. It was a large circle, with shallow cells spaced evenly around the outside. Again, there were no windows.
Behind her, a lycan guard stepped in front of the door casually and Iris instantly felt trapped.
"Right, you know why you are here. Now speak."
It took a moment for Iris to realise that Darius was not talking to her. She glanced passed him and realised that her quick appraisal of the room had missed the fact that one of the cells was, in fact, occupied.
Cautiously she stepped forward until she reached Darius's side, peering past him into the gloom of the cell beyond.
There, at the back, was the shape of a person. Iris pushed energy into her eyes and recoiled, instantly wishing she hadn't.
Her hand raised to catch her gasp as she glanced between Darius's impassive face and the figure in the cell with horror.
"What have you done?" she whispered, recognising the shifter with whom she had swapped her cloak at the market.
But he was now barely recognisable as the same person, so bloody and bruised was his face, his clothing slashed open to reveal the wounds beneath, his head lolling listlessly to the side as though he didn't even have the strength to lift it.
Upon meeting Darius's eyes, he rolled his head to the other side and spat on the ground. And then he saw Iris.
One of his eyes was swollen shut, but the other, upon recognising her, opened as wide as it could, his stare frantic and bloodshot.
"That's her!" He coughed out desperately, "That's the girl you were looking for! Look, she's standing right there, she's fine isn't she?" He groaned, pulling uselessly against the chains that held him to the wall, his mouth twisting in a grimace, "Hey you, girl, tell them that we traded cloaks. Tell them. Look what they did to me because of you! You, you owe me!"
Iris turned on Darius, clutching at his cloak desperately. "What is that man doing here?" She cried, "What did you do to him? He had nothing to do with this!"
As though he had been expecting her reaction, Darius replied swiftly, his tone dismissive. "Don't overreact. What you are seeing is just surface wounds. He is a shifter, he will heal fast,"
Iris gritted her teeth, her hands curling into fists. "What does that matter?" She hissed, "Pain inflicted is still pain."
Darius folded his arms across his chest, his jaw clenching as he stared down the shifter in the cell. "This man, was caught with your possessions," he rumbled, "Royal possessions, I might add. He was trying to sell your cloak at the market when he was found."
Iris stared at him in blatant disbelief, "What does that even matter?!" She retorted angrily, "It's just clothing! I swapped it with him, knowing that I wouldn't get it back. Who cares what he chooses to do with it after the fact!"
"What matters is not that he tried to sell it," Darius scowled, "but what he was trying to sell it for."
"And what was that" Iris snapped, unable to tear her gaze from the bloodied man in the cell.
"Information," Darius stated coldly. "This man is a spy."
Iris looked at him incredulously, "A spy? Look at him! Are you insane?"
The shifter inside the cell echoed her sentiment. "Majesty, I am no spy," he all but sobbed, "just a shifter passing through on my way to the Port. I ran low on money, that is all."
"See!" Iris gestured frantically, "Let him go!"
"Silence." Darius roared. His expression was abruptly furious, his coldness falling away like a mask to reveal the burning face of a demon beneath. "You have no right to speak here!" He thundered at the shifter before rounding on Iris.
"And you, Princess," he snarled, pointing a finger at Iris, his eyes burning with an ice blue flame, "you are far too naïve. It has been two weeks, and you still do not understand who you are!"
She flinched away from him, repelled by the hard fury in face.
"I have given you lessons, and if tonight is anything to go by, you seem to be absorbing them well – so then tell me Princess, why is it that you still do not understand your own place in this world? Do you not realise who you are?!"
He whirled around to face the cell once again, his shadow looming over the shrinking man in the corner and Iris felt as though she was suffocating. It was as though Darius's presence ate up all of the breathable air in the room, and even though he didn't physically grow any larger, she felt as though he was suddenly double in height.
"That shifter," he snarled, "wanted information about you. Your scent alone, Princess, is enough to tell people you are someone of importance. Anywhere you go, anyone you talk to – you will draw people's attention. Whether you mean it, or not. That is the power of a Royal. That is the power you hold. Innocent or otherwise, anyone you interact with outside of the palace becomes a target."
"But why?" Iris could not help but ask weakly. "I don't understand."
"Because" Darius said darkly, "they are after you. The same Shifters who threaten us with war have tasted your existence. If this man had been let go tonight, he would have re-joined with them and passed on information. It would have been enough for them to come looking."
She looked at the cowering man in the corner doubtfully. "But he-"
Darius snarled in frustration and rounded on the shifter once again. His voice when he spoke was filled with anger and overflowing with power. Iris was shocked into silence, unable to do anything but listen to him speak.
"You," Darius uttered contemptuously, "speak the truth. Now."
Inside the cell, the shifter seemed to be at war with himself. He clutched his hands over his ears, tossing his head from side to side as though listening to Darius caused him physical pain. Iris watched in horror as the shifter's face began to morph and change, becoming more animalistic. It was a forced shift. A sign of ultimate submission. She had never seen anything like it, and she never wanted to again.
"Now!" Darius roared.
The half-shifted beast inside the cell let out a tortured howl that shook Iris all the way to her bones. Yet despite it all, she could not look away.
"Yes," the shifter finally snapped out, his words contorted and barely legible as they grated out from between bloody fangs.
Iris was struck by the sudden change in persona occurring in front of her. The victimised, wounded charade melted away, revealing a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Yes, it is true I was seeking information." Deep hazel eyes, animalistic in their hunger glared out at Iris from within the cell, "but I never imagined that she was the Princess they are searching for. If he knew ..." the shifter trailed off, his look of hunger intensifying until Iris felt as though she was being swallowed by his gaze.
Instinctively, she took a step back.
Darius, it seemed, had responded to the challenge in the shifter's tone and as Iris retreated, he stepped forward, forcing the crippled beast in the cell to look at him instead.
The shifter's lip curled into a defiant sneer. "You may have power over us. But you cannot sit on the throne forever," he snarled out. "Even now, you are no King of mine."
Darius did not speak, but he did not need to.
The Lycan King merely stared at the shifter beneath him, and Iris watched as the man visibly crumpled under the weight of Darius's gaze, folding in on himself like paper, his bones cracking and rearranging as he continued to shift into his beast form.
But the form was wrong. It was all wrong.
Iris's eyes widened as she realised the shifter's body was trying to change, but Darius wasn't allowing him to. The shifter let out a hateful snarl and then the pressure became too much, and his eyes rolled back into his head, unconscious.
There was a moment of silence within the room.
Iris lifted her hand to grasp her other arm in an effort to stop both from shaking, her eyes wide and unseeing as she tried to absorb what she had just witnessed.
She had never imagined ... she had never imagined that the truth would be something like this. She looked at the broken shifter numbly. He had just been a random person on the street, someone she had approached fleetingly, without thought of who he was, and where he had come from. Their interaction had been so brief, and she was so new to this city, Iris never would have believed in a million years that she would have been in danger.
But the evidence was right in front of her eyes.
Was it her who had been careless? Or was she just unlucky? Or was the world truly so horrible that even seemingly innocent people had to be placed under suspicion?
Iris was shaken. Proven horribly, and painfully ignorant. No-one had warned her against something like this. Yet she could not bring herself to believe it was something she should have been prepared for – should have guarded against. Surely she could be expected to live her life in fear. Questioning every interaction that she had? That was not life. That was not anything at all.
"Why did you show me this?" She asked, her voice cracking slightly as she tore her gaze from the cell to look up at Darius.
As she met his gaze, she suddenly realised that she had completely forgotten Arlo and Ezekiel's warning about making eye contact with the King. She had lost count of the amount of times tonight she had been pinned under his icy stare. And yet he had not said a word.
Now, she saw the corners of his eyes soften slightly, if only for a moment. "Because you needed to see it." He had calmed now, the wild rage from earlier hidden away under an emotionless mask, his tone firm and unapologetic in his resolve.
She wondered if he believed himself merciful – exposing this truth to her. But she could not see him as such. Not after she had just watched him break a shifter right in front of her, with his will alone.
"You needed to see it to understand – seeing how you seem unable to grasp the concept from your lessons alone – that because of who you are, your interactions, your very presence, in the outside world has consequences." He was speaking, but she barely heard him, "It has a carry-on effect. It has repercussions. No matter where you go, no matter who you meet, people will be affected. You will leave traces behind you, everywhere you walk.
"And those who want to hunt us, those who want to kill us for the throne, those who want to use our deaths for war, they will find the people you have interacted with, and they will torture them for information until they are dead."
Darius's face was hard. Impassive. Iris didn't know how he could speak such words with such an expression. She wanted him to stop. She wanted to cover her ears so that she didn't have to listen any-more.
"That is what it means to be Royalty in our world. That is what it means to be a Silvon. The sooner you realise that the better."
Iris felt her heart squeeze in her chest, her mind numb. In that moment, she didn't have anything to say.
A sudden knock jolted her from her revere, and she glanced towards the shut door with reddened eyes.
"Let him in," Darius commanded, and the guard stepped aside, opening the door obediently.
In that moment, all Iris wanted to see was Arlo. She was not ashamed to admit it.
She wanted Arlo to walk through the door, rescue her from this horrible place that smelt like death, take her away from this unfeeling King who sat upon a throne painted crimson from the blood he had spilled, and ruled with fear and commands like a tyrant dictator.
This King who had just now told her that anyone she came into contact with, in the future would mostly likely die – as if it were normal, as if it were to be expected. As if he couldn't hear how horribly wrong he sounded.
The world isn't supposed to be like that, Iris wanted to scream at him, what is wrong with you?!
But she couldn't do that, she couldn't. Because when it came down to it, Iris didn't know what the world was supposed to be like. She had never lived in it after all. All she knew was that, deep in her gut, there was an unmistakeable feeling of wrongness.
So, when the one who walked through the door was not Arlo, but instead Gabriel, for the first time in a long time, Iris struggled to hold back her tears.
Gabriel's green eyes met her own and mercifully he seemed to understand her silent plea, for he bowed low to his King before straightening to speak.
"Majesty, Ezekiel and I have arrived back. If your discussion with the Princess is finished, I will show her back to her rooms."
Darius waved his hand dismissively. "Very well. But she had better not slip out from under your nose again Gabriel. Next time, I will not be so forgiving."
"Yes, my King."
Darius's words were like a spell that released Iris from the shackles that had bound her in place and she all but flew for the door, her face burning with the horror of what she had uncovered.
Gabriel did not attempt to stop her or slow her down, merely shutting the door behind her and escorting her back through the horrible hallway with it's silent eyes until Iris emerged from underground, gasping into the cool night air.
She stumbled forward a little way, deviated off the path slightly and lent against a tree for support.
"Princess ..." she heard Gabriel approaching from behind her and held up a hand to stop him. "What-"
His voice broke off as she leaned over and promptly vomited behind the tree, the acrid stench of the prison exiting her body along with the remains of whatever she had eaten that day. Her stomach heaved and she spewed again, gasping for breath. Infront of her eyes, the grotesque, half beast form of the shifter crumpled to the ground, limbs bent and broken, and she gagged at the memory.
"Princess," the gentle touch on her shoulder had her spinning around the grab Gabriel's wrist with wild eyes.
The lycan's green eyes were pools of serenity and although she expected to see pity, she was thankful when she found none. She released her grip on his wrist and turned back around to empty her stomach again.
Silently, she felt him gathering her hair back from her face and this time she let him, the quiet gesture of comfort one she found herself unable to turn away from.
"I just," she choked out, "I just never thought-" She didn't manage to finish her sentence before she dry heaved again. This time, all that came out was bile.
"I know," Gabriel said quietly, "you don't have to explain. I know."
Iris nodded half-heartedly, giving up trying to speak so that she could focus on pulling burning breaths of air in through her nose.
They remained there until she was ready, and only then did Gabriel help her back towards the palace. Her steps were slow. Her body and mind, both weary.
*
Behind her, deep in the bowels of the dungeon, a shifter regained consciousness, only to see the eyes of a beast hovering right in front of his face. The beast opened its jaws to speak and the voice that emerged was one that had been pulled from the depths of hell itself.
"And now that she is gone," the beast said, "you will tell me what you know."
*