Chapter 12: A King’s Mistake

Bynx rose from his bed with a throbbing headache that felt like someone hammering nails into his skull. The alcohol tasted scrumptious, but it wasn't worth more of his father's disappointment and bickering about his annoying sister. Ray'ven had everything. From frilly dresses, leather attire, golden hairpins, Sols, anything she wanted was handed to her on a silver platter. Whereas he had fought for everything he owned despite the status of a prince.

He lifted the heavy hilt of the dagger, allowing the weight to settle within his grasp before he aimed it towards the painting on the wall. The metal pierced the portraits, his sisters heart, hilt deep. "If father knew the truth about your sickly mother, then I wonder what he'd think about you. Would you be so noble then?"

The soft orange glow shimmered across the bricked wall of the tunnels beneath the castle, their dusty winding and twisting corridors leading Bynx where the hooded figure had gone. The end of the tunnels lead into a large, opening to a dead end. He peeked around the corner, and the person removed their hood: Morrigan. The queen of D'treroh. His curiosity peaked. Why would the queen be down here by herself where the king had blocked off the tunnels years ago?

An arm reached from the shadows and wrapped around Bynx's mother in laws torso as the figure stepped into the soft lighting offered by moonlight seeping through the crevices of deteriorating stones. She whirled around and faced Rueborn, his dark hair unbound, fallen around his broad shoulders as those ghostly eyes studied her with an infatuation. But Bynx understood the way Morrigan looked and melded herself against his front, she thought it to be love and caring. He raked his pallid fingers through her own darkened tresses, from root to tip, flicking the silken curtain over her shoulder before his palm cupped her cheek.

"Did anyone follow you?" Rueborn whispered tone sent chills up Bynx's back, and something clawed the bowels of his stomach with an uncertain warning. He tried to press himself further against the wall and blend himself with the stirring shadows. Mildew cached the walls, the floor damp, ceiling dripping cold droplets of rain onto his clothing while thunder roared outside. The way the incomplete structure of tunnels were eroding, it hadn't stopped the howling winds from chilling the prince to his bones.

"No." Her voice cracked, gaze ascending towards the necromancer's taller figure. They were right when the people spoke and said he was the commander of death. One could see it in the way he spoke, the way his eyes were dry and barren like that of an overused field that had no time to heal.

Bynx's uncle's composure spoke more than words could allow. Morrigan reached her dainty hand up and traced his jawline with nimble fingers, then they hooked behind his neck with such force he leaned down, nose against nose, their lips brushing.

"Good girl. If he were to find out, he'd take you from me like he did her. You're mine Morrigan." The sickly promise of someone filled with obsession. She had whispered she loved him, but instead of returning what he couldn't give, Bynx's uncle clutched a hand at her thigh and wrapped her legs around his waist, lips crashing against her own as to silence her about love and anything that had to do with it.

What was he witnessing? He truly didn't have to ask himself that. First degree of adultery. Before he could turn around, he felt someone's eyes on him. He looked up, and while Morrigan's back was to him, hips rolling seductively against his uncle's thrusts, Rueborn watched him, a twisted smile across his lips. Then, his face rushed towards him, sharpened teeth, faint as a ghost, yet it wasn't him because he was still over there.

He stumbled back and ran for the entrance.

"I know what your mother did a month ago." Bynx said as his mind continued to grasp onto the horrid memory of that night. And by what he had witnessed, it wasn't the first time either.

***

Caldren's jaw clenched as he stared down at the letter the king had sent. His princess had been kidnapped? And by that filthy pirate Razmyr no less. A snarl escaped him, his moss green eyes darkening to almost black in his anger.

He would murder that son of a bitch if even one perfect hair on her head was harmed. His eyes went to the shaking man before him. The messenger cowered in fear, cringing away from the angered man. He had heard much of the Knight Captain's protectiveness of Princess Ray'ven. It was said that it rivaled that of the king's own.

"We shall return to the king at once, you will go ahead to deliver my message while I gather my men and equipment. Our mission is over as of now, while it is incomplete we gathered some important intel that I believe will be of some use." He told the trembling man. The messenger stood there, gazing at him fearfully and he scowled. "Leave! You have my message, return to the king!" He growled. The messenger whimpered, stumbling backward, falling on his ass before scrambling back to his feet and rushing away.

"Thrall! Layla!" Caldren called. The two soldiers were before him immediately saluting. Thrall, his second in command was a large hulking man, with long blond hair, shaved at the sides and always kept in a tight braid, while Layla, his third stood firm and lean with ash blonde hair that was she kept in a ponytail. She was a severe, no bullshit kind of woman with piercing silvery blue eyes and a cold smile, whereas Thrall was a smartass who loved to slay his enemies both physically and verbally.

Thrall raised a brow at his captain, golden eyes piercing as he studied his tense form. "What's got your ass so tight, commander?" He questioned, crossing muscled arms over his broad chest. Layla sent him a dirty look.

"Do not address the Commander so informally." She hissed at him. Thrall simply snorted, shifting his weight onto his other foot as he waited for Caldren to answer.

"We are returning home earlier than expected." He informed them. Layla tilted her head curiously, a frown on her lips.

"Are you sure Commander, we are close to completing the mission the king sent us here on?"

Caldren nodded. "There are more important matters to attend to. Her Highness Ray'ven was kidnapped from the Magiano estate along with Lady Strelitzia. Baron Rogan and Lady Charlotte were both said to have been killed." The more he spoke, the angrier he became. Just the thought of his lady at the mercy of those, those...fucking disgusting animals made his blood boil. He would burn the whole goddamn sea to return her home and that bastard Razmyr would be the first one he killed.

Thrall's brows rose as he received the news. "Well, shit. Leave her alone for a few days and she gets kidnapped. Do we know by who?" He could practically feel his Commander's anger from where he stood and would have made a joke about his protectiveness if he hadn't been sure whether he'd keep his head.

"Fucking Krestov." He spat the name as though it were acid and the other's eyes widened.

Thrall let out a low whistle. "Damn, she sure doesn't do things half-assed. Getting kidnaped by the king's number one enemy on the first try. That deserves some sort of metal."

Thrall grunted in pain when Layla elbowed in the gut without looking and he cursed, "That hurt ya crazy bitch. Your elbows are as sharp as blades" He grouched. Layla ignored him in favor of Caldren.

" I am to assume that we will be departing immediately." Receiving a nod, she saluted once more. "I shall prepare for our leave then Commander." Turning to Thrall who was still rubbing his sore gut, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him along with her to gather their things.

Staring back down at the letter, Caldren crumbled the parchment in his fist, nails biting into the palm of his hand, drawing blood. 'You've taken the wrong princess Krestov, she belongs to me.'

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