Grabbing the Princess by her hair, the guard dragged Kate into the King's
private chambers.
The King sat in a chair, a leather-covered chair, in front of a brisk fire
that lit the whole of the room.
Eavan wept silently in a corner, and Kate felt sorry for her instantly, but Pyrte seemed not to care that the woman he'd married and raised a child with was in any form of distress. He cared even less that his daughter had been dragged into the chamber, half-conscious and suspended by a hand that was wrist deep in her ebon hair.
Pyrte showed no outward signs of damage from the flames; the faint scent of burnt leather the only remainder of the whole incident.
The King smiled, rising from his chair in a motion as fluid as if he were the wind itself. "Ah," he said upon seeing her, "Kate." Crossing the room, Pyrte stopped just in front of Kate and lifted her chin with a callused first finger. "So . . . Inice/I to see you." Rage burned behind her inky eyes so fiercely that Pyrte involuntarily stepped backward. But he wasn't taken aback. He seemed amused. That only made Kate angrier. And what happened next, Kate never expected. Pyrte loosed the paralysis spell from her body to the point where Kate was now able to speak of her own free will. Then he leaned even closer to the Heir, and stared her straight in the eyes.
At this proximity, with his wine-scented breath and beady, snake-like eyes, Kate wanted to vomit. "Ogre," she snarled, and spat in his face.
Pyrte took a step back, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, and then used the same one to strike Kate across the jaw with his full strength.
She yelped in pain, stars forming before her eyes as the first ache of a broken jaw spread across her face.
Pyrte only laughed, sending dear Eavan into near hysterics, and the guard chuckled along with his Master. "Where's your strength now, oh Heir?" Pyrte snarled, a sinister gleam in his eye, "You who thinks she's stronger than the man who created her, where is your prowess Inow/I?!"
He motioned to the guard, who abruptly kicked Kate behind the knees, and sent her crashing to the floor like a sack of stones. If Kate hadn't gotten any bruises yet, she'd have them come dawn - should she live so long.
"Pyrte, please!" Eavan finally found her voice, and scrambled to Kate's side, "Please, Pyrte! She's just a Ichild/I!"
Kate wasn't about to argue with her mother - her only ally at the moment - about whether or not she was a child, and so leaned ruefully into her mother's frail arms.
"A child she may be, but she will Idie/I for what she has done," Pyrte's voice was thin and flat.
"No!"
"Yes, she will, and you can do nothing to stop me."
He reached out a burly arm and shoved Eavan aside, leaving her to sob into the floor.
Eavan wept silently in a corner, and Kate felt sorry for her instantly, but Pyrte seemed not to care that the woman he'd married and raised a child with was in any form of distress. He cared even less that his daughter had been dragged into the chamber, half-conscious and suspended by a hand that was wrist deep in her ebon hair.
Pyrte showed no outward signs of damage from the flames; the faint scent of burnt leather the only remainder of the whole incident.
The King smiled, rising from his chair in a motion as fluid as if he were the wind itself. "Ah," he said upon seeing her, "Kate." Crossing the room, Pyrte stopped just in front of Kate and lifted her chin with a callused first finger. "So . . . Inice/I to see you." Rage burned behind her inky eyes so fiercely that Pyrte involuntarily stepped backward. But he wasn't taken aback. He seemed amused. That only made Kate angrier. And what happened next, Kate never expected. Pyrte loosed the paralysis spell from her body to the point where Kate was now able to speak of her own free will. Then he leaned even closer to the Heir, and stared her straight in the eyes.
At this proximity, with his wine-scented breath and beady, snake-like eyes, Kate wanted to vomit. "Ogre," she snarled, and spat in his face.
Pyrte took a step back, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, and then used the same one to strike Kate across the jaw with his full strength.
She yelped in pain, stars forming before her eyes as the first ache of a broken jaw spread across her face.
Pyrte only laughed, sending dear Eavan into near hysterics, and the guard chuckled along with his Master. "Where's your strength now, oh Heir?" Pyrte snarled, a sinister gleam in his eye, "You who thinks she's stronger than the man who created her, where is your prowess Inow/I?!"
He motioned to the guard, who abruptly kicked Kate behind the knees, and sent her crashing to the floor like a sack of stones. If Kate hadn't gotten any bruises yet, she'd have them come dawn - should she live so long.
"Pyrte, please!" Eavan finally found her voice, and scrambled to Kate's side, "Please, Pyrte! She's just a Ichild/I!"
Kate wasn't about to argue with her mother - her only ally at the moment - about whether or not she was a child, and so leaned ruefully into her mother's frail arms.
"A child she may be, but she will Idie/I for what she has done," Pyrte's voice was thin and flat.
"No!"
"Yes, she will, and you can do nothing to stop me."
He reached out a burly arm and shoved Eavan aside, leaving her to sob into the floor.