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Chapter Thirty-Four: Dolian

I clench Rhea’s handkerchief in my pocket, my boots echoing against the moss-covered stone floors deep beneath the castle. My hatred for this space is more palpable than the dank air I breathe. Each step that brings me closer to the cells is fuel for that monster inside me that demands I burn this place to the damn ground. However, kingdoms need dungeons, and despite my history with this one, it is currently serving many purposes.

Xander walks a step behind me, his presence a necessary annoyance. The few prisoners that are here are quiet as we walk by, knowing better than to try to plead to their king when there is no mercy to be found. They’ll rot here for as long as I command it, and only when I have decided that their worthless lives are no longer of value to me will I let them succumb to the relief of death.

“Has she said anything during your interrogations?” I ask him.

“No, she refuses to speak.”

I clutch the handkerchief even harder. Flame gems light our way every few feet—not enough light to keep the menacing shadows away, but enough to faintly make out the outline of the metal bars. I finally reach the end of the passageway and turn to face the cell holding the one person whose value is, unfortunately, too high for me to kill right away. She huddles in a corner, and my nose wrinkles at the foul odors coating the space around her.

“You could free yourself from this torture. You could once more taste fresh air and feel sunlight on your skin. All you have to do is answer my questions.” My voice reverberates off the darkened stone, and though I can’t actually see the color in the dimness, I know that it is gray. “Tell me what you know.”

Her head lifts from where she had it resting on her drawn up knees, her hair filthy and tinged red and brown. Her face fares no better, but even through the dried blood and grime, she has a youthful appearance. She might not even have reached her second decade yet.

“I would rather die a slow and painful death at your hands than tell you anything you want to know.” She then bares her teeth at me, a low growl rumbling from her throat.

Disgusting.

“Be careful what you wish for, you vile creature. I will happily peel the flesh off of you bit by bit.”

Her eyes harden, the golden glow of the flame gem lighting them a similar color, and her next words are spoken through gritted teeth. “ Do it, then .”

“You would do well to remember who you are talking to,” Xander snaps. The woman’s eyes narrow into slits at him before she turns them back on me.

I take a step closer to the bars, careful not to touch any part of the filthy metal. “How often did you watch from whatever corner you were hidden in? Yet you did nothing.” Her muscles bulge in her arms, my blood heating as her nails dig into her bare legs like claws. “You want to paint me as the villain, and maybe I am, but you had the capability to help—to stop it—and you. Did. Nothing. Now you will die here, and whether you tell me what I want to know or not, it won’t matter. Not to her .”

She launches up from her corner faster than I would have thought possible. I’m not quick enough to back away, and my stomach threatens to heave up my breakfast when her blood-crusted fingers wrap around the sides of my black and gold vest.

Her eyes shine bright, even in the absence of light, as her lips lift in a snarl. “I will kill you.”

Xander shoves her and sends her stumbling backward, my clothing slipping from her grip. I stare down at the fabric, bits of rust red and dark brown now smudged on it. My fingers tremble as rage seeps into every pore. Filthy. Disgusting. Disappointment. My father’s words pummel me, his voice everywhere in this familiar dungeon despite having died before Rhea was born. I back away from the cell, bumping into Xander as I do.

“Get the information out of her by whatever means necessary. For every question she refuses to answer, cut off a finger.” I don’t hear his reply before I turn and stride down the passageway, counting to one hundred in my head. When I get to ninety-three, the stairs that climb up to the main floor of the castle come into view. I take them two at a time all the way up until I burst through the door and slam it closed behind me. Outside—get outside.

A lifetime of living in the castle is the only awareness that guides me to the glass doors that lead to the gardens. Once the sun hits me and the warm air of summer pushes at my skin, I’m able to loose a breath.

I will kill you.

I grit my teeth together, walking deeper into the rows of hedges and flowers. She could try. Same as that mage bastard, Flynn. I’ll slice them down and make Rhea watch as I do it. I’ll make her kneel in their blood to remind her that there is no one in this world who could love her as I do. Who could make her as powerful as I can, even with the magic flowing in her veins.

My cock grows hard at the thought of her drenched in crimson, and my vision blurs as the fantasies of bloodshed and rage dance through my mind. The noise of flesh on stone sends birds flying from their perches as I pummel my fist into a carved bench tucked between the flowers. I don’t stop when I see the first smattering of my blood. I don’t stop when the pain begins to leak into my consciousness. No, I wait until I see the vision of Flynn’s face smashed beneath me, nothing but a mangled mess of brain matter, blood, and broken bone.

Falling to my knees, I cradle my throbbing hand while I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. Each inhale erases the smells of the dungeon below, replacing them with the fragrance of iron mixing with the flowers—heady rose and delicate jasmine. And lilies. I breathe in deeply again—the rage simmering to the background where it lingers, waiting to be unleashed once more. Lilies. Standing, I stroll out of the garden and shout to the guards to find Simon.

“The women are lined up in your chambers, Your Majesty,” Simon says from where he walks behind me as we leave another Royal Council meeting, the men in attendance ignoring Paul’s absence.

“Ready the Mirror in the throne room. When I’m finished, I’ll meet you there.”

He says nothing but dips his chin in response, breaking away from me to stride down an adjacent hallway. I’ve resisted reaching out for help, but it can’t be avoided now. The longer Rhea is away from me, the harder it will be to get her back.

Pausing in front of the door to my chambers, I flex my bandaged right hand before turning the door handle. My room is warm and lit in a soft orange from the flame gems and flickering candlelight. The corners of my mouth draw up when I take in the six women standing in different-colored silk robes right in the center, their gazes all fixed on the floor. I immediately dismiss three of them—one that is too tall, one with breasts that are too big, and another with hair that isn’t the right shade. Once the door is shut, I observe the ones that remain as I unbutton my vest, tossing it onto the back of a nearby armchair before moving on to my shirt.

I circle them, scrutinizing their features before I come to stand at their front. “I want each of you to repeat the phrase ‘As you say, My King.’ Now.”

“As you say, My King,” the woman in pink says, a slight quiver to her voice.

I nearly groan at the sound but force myself to hold it in. I step in front of the woman in the middle next.

Her eyes lift up to meet mine, a lush smirk extending on her pretty face. “As you say, My King.” Her sultry voice does nothing to arouse me further, and with a flick of my wrist, I dismiss her.

The final woman, her purple robe tied tightly around her as if to hide from me, keeps her gaze pinned to my boots. I curl a finger under her chin, my smile sharp when she flinches under my touch. “Say it,” I urge, my voice deceptively soft.

Her lip trembles, her light blue eyes wide as she rasps, “As you say, My King.” My grip tightens as I scan her more thoroughly. Her face shape is similar enough, if a little more pointed at her nose and chin. Her hair is a near-perfect match, going down to her mid back. Yes, she will do just fine.

“Go,” I say to the one with the pink robe, chuckling when she all but sprints from the room.

Removing my shirt and laying it with my vest, I turn and lean against the back of the armchair, my hands gripping it tightly enough to make the wood beneath the fabric creak.

“Are you frightened, darling?”

As if the words are a knife dragging along her skin, the woman shivers. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I hum, my blood nearly boiling as I slide my palm against my hardened cock from the outside of the trousers. “Good. Take off your robe.”

She obeys immediately, the silky fabric sliding delicately from her body. I take in her soft curves—the small flair of her hips and perk of her breasts. Her petite frame is perfectly suited for my hands to grip, just how I know Rhea’s will be.

She avoids watching me undress the rest of the way, but it does nothing to lessen my hunger. In fact, it feeds into the burning desire that courses through me, tangling with my constant, deep-rooted rage. The monster inside me may be a self-reflection born and bred from the torturous beatings of my father, but I’ve shaped and molded it to become something that serves a purpose now.

Walking over to a vase of freshly cut flowers, I pluck a lily out and turn towards the woman who will fill my needs for now. “Do not speak at all. Do not turn around,” I tell her while dragging the lily down her cheek and neck, over the slight curve of her breast and lower. Her skin breaks out in goosebumps, but she nods at my command. “You have a role to play, and if you do it well, you will be rewarded.”

Tucking the flower over her ear, my fingers lightly grip her elbow. I turn and guide her towards the bed before coming to stand behind her. The first skim of my fingers down her soft skin makes me moan, and I stare at the way her blonde hair hangs down her back—so lovely and perfect. Forcing her chest to meet the bed, I adjust the strands of her hair so they stay splayed out in front of me.

“You are mine.”

The meeting of my hand on her ass rings out into the room, followed by her cry of surprise. The monster within me pushes to be let out, to take control, but I wait. Patience pays off; it always has. Another smack, another cry—the sound a perfect symphony to my ears. Again and again, I mark her skin until it’s swollen and red. Gripping my cock, I position myself at her entrance.

“You have always been mine.”

I imagine it’s Rhea’s muffled cries singing out into the room, Rhea’s delicate hands gripping onto the comforter so hard her knuckles turn white. I open the monster’s cage and let him command the feral pace I take.

Soon it will be her. It will be her. I just need to have patience.

The walk to the throne room is short, the silence much needed while I decide what I am going to say to the being on the other side of the Mirror. Simon meets me outside of the golden double doors, a roaring lion carved in the middle.

“I want that one to stay close by for whenever I have need of her,” I tell him.

“Of course, Sire. I shall arrange a room for her.”

“Remain outside until I call for you.”

Simon nods and stands perfectly straight against the wall, his hands clasping behind his back.

This room was the first I changed when I became king, summoning every artist from Vitour to completely alter the space. Still, I hated it almost more than I did the dungeons. Pushing the heavy door open, I glance up at the golden tapestries that hang from the rafters of the arched ceiling as I walk down a rug of the same shade that lays in the center of the room. Gold had been the antithesis of what was there before. My brother, Conrad, could have changed the sigil and the colors when he became king, but he opted to continue the revolting red and white as if it was an honor to do so. I suppose that, to him, it was. He only knew kindness from the king. Only knew the gentle hand of an adoring father. He never saw the other side. I had hoped that Luna might have remembered our conversation about how much I loathed the colors and what they represented when she became queen. That she would recall the late nights we had spent sprawled on a blanket outside, looking up at the stars and wishing on them. In the end, she betrayed me as everyone else had.

My hands slide into my pockets as I reach the first step of the dais, turning to look down at the Mirror placed before it. Its rectangular shape is basic and unassuming, much like how I imagine others feel about the Mortal Kingdom.

It has been decades since I’ve last talked with any ruler through the Mirror. Ironic that, of the four other monarchs that rule in Olymazi, it’ll be the same one that I spoke with over twenty-two years ago that I’m summoning tonight. The same one who I technically still owed a favor to. Clutching Rhea’s handkerchief in my hand, I clear my throat and speak their name out loud.