.
.
A strike.
Karl pitched to the side; blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.
"Again," Diva said.
Another strike. Karl coughed and spat up blood.
"Diva," Solomon said. He followed after her down the steps, hand gripping the rail. "Diva. It is inhumane."
"I don't care," Diva said. She turned, the skirt of her dress swirling with the movement. "I want you to hurt him, Solomon. I want you to hurt him as he's hurt me."
"Diva."
Diva's mouth twisted into a smile.
"But no one can really hurt me, can they?" Diva said. She turned again, hand prettily resting on the banister. "I am your maker and your Queen. It amuses me," Diva said, and she took another step down. "Amshel already agreed."
"But-"
Diva raised her hand, then disappeared down the stairwell.
xXx
.
The experiments continued. Before, they had always told Karl what they were doing and how it would be done: they would sedate him, do what was needed, then gradually wake him up when he was all healed. Afterward, they would allow him to return to his quarters, to read or study or sit with the other chevaliers, who regarded him from a distance, but who allowed him to sit within their presence without much fuss.
But now, after the fallout from Diva's affair, Karl was kept locked in a cell no bigger than Diva's old prison, the experiments conducted at all hours of the day without the benefit of sedation. "She wants him to be awake," Amshel said. "Quite frankly, I'm pleased with this development. I was always afraid your cocktails would interfere with our data."
Silently, Solomon went to Karl's old room. The curtains were closed, but somehow a crack of light filtered from the bottoms of the curtain. He could see the vanity and the mirror, a stack of books neatly sitting on the nightstand.
Solomon closed the door. Stepping inside, he cast a quick glance at the bed at the center of the room, and frowned. Somehow that bed seemed obscene. Chevaliers did not sleep, and Solomon knew, both from Amshel's logs and from his own personal experience, the purpose for which the bed was truly used.
The stairs to the prison cell were long and narrow, and as Solomon stepped he had to catch himself, the slant of the steps pitching at a downward angle so much so that he felt like he would lose his balance. The books in his hand made it so he couldn't hold onto the railings, so Solomon walked slowly, taking care not to miss a step as he went downstairs.
xXx
.
"Two minutes and 32 seconds. That's the time it takes for you to fully heal."
Solomon could see the iron shackles around Karl's ankle; it was so tight it rubbed the skin of his leg raw. "A shame," Solomon said. "If it weren't for the constant pressure of this cuff, you would heal almost instantly."
Karl's gaze seemed unfocused, not once glancing at the stack of books Solomon had gathered from his room.
"I brought you your books," Solomon said. Karl said nothing. Quietly Solomon squatted beside him, pushing the stack of books closer. "We have all suffered the wrath of Diva's disfavor at one time or another," Solomon said. "Please bear with it for now."
xXx
.
Two minutes and 32 seconds. That was the time it took for Karl to fully heal. Amshel worked diligently to inflict the injuries before that time period. One slice of the scalpel, blood trickling down the wall of Karl's chest as he peeled the skin back. Two minutes and 32 seconds. Fingers bluntly tearing into muscle and tendons from the cage of Karl's ribs, fingers turned to sharpened talons to hack and tear through Karl's heart.
Two minutes and 32 seconds. The time it takes before Karl starts to scream.
xXx
.
"Drink," Solomon said. He offered up Karl his wrist, cutting the artery there. "Karl you must drink. Please."
"She hates me."
"Karl." Solomon stared. "Diva is our maker," Solomon said. "She is our goddess and our Queen. It is not our right to love her," Solomon said, but Karl turned, facing the wall. The chains rattled with the movement, scraping against the concrete. Solomon's face was drawn. "Karl."
"If only," Karl said. His eyes were dim. "If only I could have given her a child."
"Neither of us could," Solomon said. "Karl. Amshel thought because you were Oriental, maybe it would work. It got Diva's hopes up. She's disappointed and she's angry, but it certainly is not your fault."
"You've made love to her?" Karl asked. He turned slowly. Solomon sucked in his breath. His skin was covered with filthy, stringy pieces of hair falling over his eyes. "Solomon?"
Solomon's jaw tightened, but didn't answer.
xXx
.
Outside, Solomon stepped out from the cell to find Amshel standing under the torchlight. "Amshel-nii-san?"
"Diva wishes to see him," Amshel said. Solomon's eyes widened.
"Diva?"
"It seems his punishment is over," Amshel said. He looked around the dungeons with distaste, "at least this part of it, it seems."
He unlocked the door. Solomon watched as Karl stood, the tattered blanket falling from his arms.
xXx
.
"It seems our sweet Diva can't get enough of him," Nathan said. He stretched luxuriously in the garden, swirling a wine glass in his hand. "Such a beautiful boy. He truly is a living doll."
"What does she do to him?" Solomon asked. Reflexively his mind went back to the first day they met, Karl going over medical texts and begging for him to teach him. Nathan laughed.
"Sex, darling. Lots of dirty, awful sex. I imagine the poor boy is being abused at this very moment." Nathan took another drink, then paused to delicately wipe the corner of his mouth. "He's besotted with her, the poor thing. I tried to explain to him, 'Karl dear, she doesn't love you.' But the poor thing is confused," Nathan said. "I don't blame him. No family, no home to go back to. Oh! It would make a grown man weep."
"It was my fault," Solomon said. Nathan looked up, then leaned forward. "He only wanted to learn. I told him I would teach him."
"And you have taught him," Nathan said. "All the ways of this wicked world."