!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Depiction of torture and cannibalism.

- II -

Viktor sat laboriously on the edge of his ebony four-poster bed, bracing himself on the arm of a male servant. The guards wanted to keep Amelia out of his quarters, but he waved for her to come in despite their protests.

"How is it that you are able to shoot better than my marksmen?"he asked.

A small smile appeared on her beautifully curved lips. "My third husband loved the woods. Every time he went out on a hunt, I practiced archery. He never would have approved, had he known otherwise."

Her voice was calm as ever. However, Viktor got the impression that there had been an ambiguous undertone in her answer. "I suppose I must thank you for saving my life, although there isn't much left of it." His smile was thin and bitter, cynicism apparent in his eyes.

Amelia could have asked him once more to buy her lands in grateful recognition of the service she had given him, but she just curtseyed to him. "There's no need to thank me, Milord."

"I will think about how I can reward you properly, Countess Amelia. Now leave me," the prince said, as a coughing fit bent him double over on the edge of the bed. His condition worsened by the day. If the physician's word was true, he would have only a few weeks left.

When Amelia stepped through the door, a soldier was waiting in the corridor until Viktor's thin voice called him inside the rooms. "Milord, we know how the boyars were able to smuggle weapons into the keep," he said. Amelia pricked up her ears, despite her good manners saying it was impolite to listen in on her lord's conversations. "They bribed the guards at our checkpoints."

"It seems they have enough silver left for that kind of disgraceful action despite the taxes." Viktor's voice, although weakened by sickness, was ice cold and furious.

"What shall we do with those guards, Milord?" the soldier asked.

The elderly prince seemed to think about it for a long moment. "Peel off their skin, and if they don't confess, quarter them. Make those who refused the bribes watch as a lesson. Traitors deserve no less," he said, his features contorting into a pained grimace.

The soldier nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "And what of the boyars?"

"Remove their tongues and leave them in the keep's dungeon for the night to reflect on their crimes. Then boil them and bring me that treasonous leader's heart for dinner." He coughed again, pressing a cloth to his mouth.

Amelia quickened her pace. So these were some of the cruelties he was rumored to inflict on those who displeased him.

The executions took place in the pale light of morning. The inhabitants of the castle gathered by their windows and balconies, impatiently awaiting the spectacle unfolding in the courtyard. Viktor had invited Amelia to watch the scene from his rooms.

She was reluctant to accept his offer, because she didn't find satisfaction in such blood sport, but upon seeing that he was acting without mercy towards the rebels, it would have been not wise to reject his request. When she stepped through the terrace door, the prince was already seated in one of two chairs. He gestured for her to sit beside him, and Amelia obeyed.

"How are you today, Milord?" she asked.

"Much better, now that those traitors will get what they deserve," a raspy chuckle made its way up his throat.

When the corrupt guards were led to the courtyard, some excited shouting could be heard from the crowd. Soldiers made the men kneel, hands bound behind their backs. Their fellows drew long butcher knives from their belts and began to cut off thick layers of skin from the traitors' upper arms. Blood ran to the hard packed ground in rivulets, while the poor men screamed and begged for mercy. The watchers roared and applauded, calling out for blood.

Three of the five condemned men collapsed. For the other remaining two, eight horses were led in, and rope tied to the men's arms and legs. The soldiers pulled the animals in opposite directions until the convicts howled in pain. Stopping at the limits of their endurance, two more soldiers approached with knives in hand, making swift work of disemboweling the traitors. When their extremities were pulled from the sockets, the spectators whistled and catcalled obscenities even louder than before.

Now the boyars were dragged out, their features unrecognizable, with their eyes covered by bandages and their tongues removed. The fires weren't yet lit as the boyars were forced into large cauldrons. Brewing them in already boiling water would have been not severe enough for Viktor's taste. They had to be cooked slowly and painfully.

Amelia watched everything in silence, trying not to show her disquiet, but when the traitors began shrieking, she lowered her head, staring at her feet instead to prevent her stomach from turning. She held her breath when she felt a hand touching her shoulder. She looked up and met the watery blue eyes of the Prince.

"Are you feeling unwell, countess?" he asked, acting concerned.

She swallowed the bile that rose up her throat into her mouth."I am fine, Milord," she lied with only a little tremble in her voice, as she folded her hands in her lap.

The corners of his mouth curled up into a grimace."Well, then we shall go inside. Dinner will be served soon."

The large table was decorated with white flowers and clusters of candles lit up the room, when the countess and the prince entered. They sat down opposite of each other, and the cupbearer poured them some wine. No other nobles were invited, it seemed.

"Now, my dear countess, tell me about you," Viktor began the conversation. "What are you doing when you aren't shooting at murderers?"

"Well, I would have liked to shoot at those mangy wolves when they attacked my people, but unfortunately I was too late to step in, and they were already gone." She inspected her fingernails, then let her gaze wander across the table until her eyes met his.

"I am sorry that you lost so much of your property." This time his regret was genuine. "But you have told me about your husband, so at least you have somebody left to turn to."

"Not anymore, Milord. My third husband, whom I've spoken of, is dead, and so are my first and my second husbands, as well as my father." Her voice was calm and silky, not half as mournful as it might have been.

The Prince's expression was unreadable. He opened his mouth but said nothing as the servants came in, carrying silver plates and bowls. For some reason Amelia had expected Viktor to devour that poor man's heart raw, but the cannibalistic meal was served roasted and seasoned.

Hesitantly she picked up a piece of meat on her fork and scrutinized it, then looked at the prince who had already started eating and whose crooked smile ranged somewhere between pleased and sadistic. When she finally took a bite, she heard him chuckle hoarsely. The taste didn't differ overmuch from a roasted ox's heart, but Amelia felt the urge to swallow it down with some liquid, and so she took a sip of the wine. She could have sworn that it had an unpleasantly copper like aftertaste.