Hola Amigos! Thank you for all the reviews and the feedback! Here is chapter two! Special thanks to A Pencil In Her Hand for being a awesome beta! THis chapter was originally like 1,000 words but then it ended up 2,000. That is how good she is! Please go and check out her story To Forget!


As Ian reached the castle courtyard, his senses were treated to the pungent smell of fresh manure, and chattering cries of servants, that hung in the stale air.

Ian wrinkled his nose in disgust. Infection was heavy in the dismal atmosphere, and he felt bile rise in his throat as the smell of urine wafted past him.

It was laughably ironic,Ian thought grimly, as he hopped over a pile of fresh horse dung, that the place he despised the most, was one he was forced to cross through every day of his life.

When he was crowned king, Ian planned to drive out the pitiful peasants and servants that gathered here, and have the disease ridden courtyard promptly destroyed.

Ian quickened his steps; widening them to double his usual stride. He needed to get to his chambers. There were things he needed to accomplish before the quest for the serum was to begin.

A blaring trumpet sounded as he entered the courtyard; Vikram's soldiers saluted Ian smartly as he passed, and all of the servants bowed, their noses brushing reverently against the putrid ground.

-Well, almost all the servants bowed.

In the midst of the obedient crowd, a lone girl still stood, gaping curiously at Ian with wide green eyes.

Her hands twisted nervously in the folds of her grungy apron, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was committing a crime punishable by death.

Irritated by the girl's quiet, intent gaze, Ian eyed her coldly. How dare she stare so at him?

As if sensing his words, her eyes snapped away from his face, and the color in her pale cheeks spiked to tomato.

With a small gasp, she noticed the bent heads around her. Frantically she dropped to her knees- but it was too late.

Ian was tempted to let the incident go -he did not have the time to spend to chastise his servants.

One of the guards eyed him expectantly; awaiting Ian's word of punishment.

Ian glared at the man, suddenly irked. Was it Stare-Impudently-At-The-Prince Day?

The girl risked a peek at him, a mixture of hope, and fear evident on her face.

Ian shot the aggravating servant twit a fierce look, and she shrank back, ducking her head as he turned his attention towards the still prostrate crowd.

Her frightened, innocent gaze frustrated him. It made what he was about to do, seem almost wrong.

Almost.

The crowd was beginning to murmur and stir uncertainly and Ian clenched his fist.

He silently cursed the girl fiercely for causing all of this bother. Why couldn't she have just bowed down?

It was too late for forgiveness. She had sealed her own fate. If Ian let her off now, Isabel would hear of it, and his mother's will was something Ian did not wish to cross.

Ian pointed to the soldier closest to him,- the one who had stared at him.

"You." He asked sharply, "Who hired this dirt?"

The guard started, surprised. "Pardon, your highness?"

"Who is in charge of that girl?" He waved his hand towards the center of the courtyard.

The soldier gulped, and held his breath. "I do not-"

"Your highness," a man stepped in front of the soldier, and bowed.

Ian pressed his lips together tightly. Impertinent man. Did no one here know the rules of protocol?

"What is it?" He grated out. Ian's head throbbed from a combination of a thousand disgusting smells, and he longed for a goblet of rich wine to clear his senses.

I should have taken another route to my quarters... He thought grimly. This nonsense is ridiculous.

"Sire, this girl-" the man began, "-Came here only today to offer her services as a servant. I beg that she be spared from your wrath; she didn't know that-"

Ian coldly appraised the man. He shut his mouth abruptly when he saw Ian's face.

"It does not matter if she was hired today or a year ago." Ian said, focusing his attention on the unfortunate girl. "She doesn't seem to be daft. She should have known better. Mistakes are not tolerated here."

Mistakes are not tolerated... Ian winced slightly as the words left his mouth. He was beginning to sound like Isabel.

"But-" The man protested.

Ian was tired of being interrupted by peasants. "Would you rather pay the consequences?" He snapped.

The man exchanged an uncertain glance with the red-haired girl.

"Well, no." He admitted somewhat sheepishly. "But- she is just a girl!"

Ian's lip curled into a frown. "And this changes things, how?"

The servant looked shocked at Ian's cool tone. He bobbed his head again in a partial bow, and took a few steps back.

Ian smirked at the man's fear. How honorable of him to step up for the girl, only to give up when things got messy.

The coward.

Ian grimaced.

Or...maybe the man was wise.

After all, mistakes were not tolerated in Triant, and defying the prince over a servant girl was most certainly a mistake.

"Take her to the Lucian chamber." Ian said, suddenly too disgusted to stand another moment amid the cowards and fools that seemed to abound in the pig sty of a courtyard.

Two guards sprang into action and lifted the girl up from shaking legs.

Ian turned on his heel, heading irrationally back out into the grounds, the pleasant feeling he had felt earlier, gone.

If it hadn't been for that girl...

He scowled. Now he had to punish her because of her ignorance. He flinched as she cried out in fear and pain. She's just a girl, his conscious whispered. She didn't mean to disrespect you.

Ian sighed. Perhaps he could let it go.

His left shoulder started to burn, radiating pulsing heat where Isabel had carved his... reminder.

No. Ian thought, hardening his heart.

He would punish the girl. He would prove to his mother that Ian Kabra was no weakling.

He would lock the girl in the dungeon for one week with no victuals.

Really, he persuaded himself, halfheartedly, she deserved no less.

She had shamed him front of his subjects, making him look like a fool.

She would pay.

Ian clenched his fists in trepidation. He hated this. Deep down, he knew that the girl really did not deserve to be punished.

But his mother would know if he let the issue slide. She would see to it that the both Ian, and the girl, would have a much stronger punishment than a week in the dungeon.

Ian stopped walking and held his breath. He had walked to the edge of the castle grounds and was standing at the edge of Illusionaire. The forest of secrets.

Ian laughed. It was ironic. There was nothing secretive about it really. It was known throughout the kingdom that many Cahill descendants had been executed behind the gruesome cover of trees.

The thoughts of human flesh rotting into nothingness in the forest made Ian's skin crawl. He made a silent vow that when he became king of Triant, he would have every tree in the forest cut down. It bothered him that the thick foliage withheld what transpired within the forest. Trees could hide things...Dangerous things.

But now was not the time to think about being king. He had a servant girl to deal with.

Ian headed back to the castle, his long strides bringing him back in a matter of minutes. He entered the hallway of the Lucian chamber, where the two soldiers he had sent stood in front of the door.

They saluted him and allowed him to enter.

The girl was crouched on her knees, her dirty fingers laced together, head bent down as if she was praying.

If only she had imitated that pose in the courtyard... Ian thought grimly.

The guard shut the door behind him and the girl looked up to see Ian staring at her.

Her face turned bright red and she ducked her head back down again.

Ian smirked, amused. Although of course, there was no girl in the kingdom that would be a match for him, the ladies of the land always tried to flirt with Ian.

Even though she pretended not to notice his looks, her heated blush gave her away. Ian could tell that she was one of the many females who thought that he was...pleasing to look at.

Ian let the silence hang in the room, enjoying the feeling of the girl's anxiety.

She refused to look into his face; and after a few minutes, Ian pressed his lips together in anger. He was not accustomed to being spited.

"Look at me girl," he said, coldly.

She flinched, then shook her head slowly, her hands trembling. "I-I can't."

Ian took a step closer to her. Was she really going to defy him in his own palace?

"I will not have a peasant disobey an order." He snapped. "I could have you killed here on the spot. Look at me."

The girl grimaced, and raised her eyes to his, the expression in them one of mixed trepidation and bravery. On any other, Ian would have admired the spirit shown, but these eyes made his blood ran cold.

He knew them now. A brilliant jade green- they could be none but Grace Cahill's eyes.

Ian knitted his brow. But Grace was dead. Every Cahill was dead. Yet...

"What's your name?" Ian asked, his suspicions rising.

The girl's stuttered reply of "Amy Cah-Castle," made him narrow his eyes. The girl looked extremely nervous. Her eyes were even wider, if possible, and her lips were pressed tightly together. Ian almost laughed at the futility of her efforts. She was lying to him.

Pathetic.

His superior, highly trained Lucian brain easily picked up the information he needed from subtle clues in the girl's body language.

He leaned closer to her, his mouth brushing against her ear. "Amy, do you know what happens to liars in the kingdom Triant when they get caught?" he whispered, sinisterly.

The girl visibly shivered, but did not move away. "N-no." she gasped out.

Ian chuckled. "It's quite a messy business to witness liars being dealt with. What if you tell me the truth, so you are not one of the unfortunate souls who does?"

Amy opened her mouth, but no words came out. In the shocked silence that followed, Ian stood up, and stretched his muscles. They were sore from tossing and turning the night before, and he wished the interrogation over with.

"I don't have all day girl," he barked, suddenly angry at the girl's silence.

Amy got up from the ground carefully, as though frightened that he would strike her. She was a full head shorter than Ian, and if humanly possible, she shrunk even more under his chilly gaze.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she quavered.

Ian put on his most bored expression and tried one of the oldest Lucian tactics for gathering information: State the facts you think you know.

"You're Grace Cahill's granddaughter, Amy Cahill-" He tested. The girl's eyes widened in shock.

Ah ha! Ian thought smugly, "-Daughter of Hope and Arthur Cahill." He leaned forward, "You're the girl who died in the fire, although I must say, you don't make for a very convincing ghost."

Amy stepped back horrified, her red hair a tangled mess. "No!"

Ian smiled. "Yes."

"B-but, oh please don't!" Tears filled her eyes, making Ian step back in disgust.

This was the part of interrogation he hated the most.

The tears, -there were always tears- followed shortly by begs for mercy.

So Vikram's soldiers had not killed every Cahill. There had been a survivor. This put an annoying twist on things. Ian's hand went instinctively under his robe, feeling for the dagger hidden there.

It would be easier, kinder even, for him to kill the girl now and never tell anyone of the mistake.

But then again, if Amy Cahill had survived, there may have been others survivors as well. She might know their location.

Isabel really would be furious if he murdered their only shot at snuffing out the remaining Cahills.

And even though the Amy's speaking habits were rather annoying, there was something about the way she stood, quietly awaiting her fate, despite her trembling limbs, that intrigued him.

No, she would not die yet. Ian could keep her alive for a while, and then kill her later.

After all, Mother and Father had a way of withholding the truth whenever it pleased them to do so. It was time he carried on the tradition.

Ian pulled out his knife and grabbed Amy's arm, spinning her around so his right hand was around her waist, the other, clutching the knife to her exposed throat.

Amy yelped, and stood breathing deeply, as her salty tears dropped wetly onto Ian's hand.

Ian's lip curled in involuntary disgust as the droplets rolled down his skin, but he kept his position.

"Do you have a death wish? You must know that it is suicide for your kind to even set one toe in this kingdom."

He eyed Amy, gauging her reaction. She remained stubbornly silent, even as he held a knife to her throat. Ian frowned, frustrated.

"Cahills are daft, girl. It is why we must eliminate you." He snapped, then shuddered, "To think of Gideon's all powerful serum ending up in the possession of such fools. Ha!"

Amy's breathing stopped at the mention of the serum, and Ian raised an eyebrow as a hopeful thought struck him.

Did she know its location?

Then she spoke, and hope flew out the open window. "If-if you are g-going to kill me-"

Ian dug the knife a bit deeper into her neck, silencing her.

"I'm not going to kill you." He said, the bitter disappointment of her unsatisfactory words lending a hard edge to his tone. "Not yet. You have secrets, secrets that need to be... spilled, before the bloodbath begins."

A shaky sob emitted from Amy's throat, and Ian pushed her away in repulsion.

"You will continue your service as a servant-girl." he began, the Cahill girl visibly shivering.

Then the gears in Ian's mind clicked into place, and an idea came to him.

"I leave to find the serum in one week." He said, casually. Amy flinched, as the word 'Serum' left his mouth and Ian smirked. So she did know something of it.

"You shall accompany me on the quest." He fingered his knife, Amy's eyes followed it fearfully. Good. Ian thought, satisfied. If she was afraid, she would obey him.

"You will tell no one of what transpired here, or the last sensation you ever feel will be this very knife-" he said, brandishing the blade elegantly, "-Slicing deep into your neck."

Amy shivered, and nodded. Then curiosity overcame her fear. "B-but why would you want to take m-me?" she stuttered.

Ian appraised the girl before him. She was ugly, with her unnaturally green eyes, and bushy red hair. Pity. Cahill blood wasted on her.

"That is not your concern," he said stiffly. "But know this." He shoved the weapon into its sheath and looked her straight in the eyes. "If you attempt escape at any time, I will kill you."

Amy's bottom lip trembled, and as Ian turned to leave, she muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone full of cavalier mockery. Now would come the begging for mercy- it always did.

Amy looked up, her face stained with tears. "I hate you, Ian Kabra." She whispered.


Dun dun dun! So what was your favorite part of this chapter?

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