Darkness Ignite

Chapter 13

Nesrin

My body convulsed and shook violently as I heaved forcibly. I could taste the blood that lingered in my mouth unfavorably. Even as my stomach turned within itself, nothing came up. The pain I felt was tormenting and uncontrollable. No amount of words could describe the sincerity of my turmoil.

Was I truly to believe that my father, whom I've never known, was the King?

I looked accusingly at my mother, but she refused to meet my gaze. She cowered into herself, and her shoulders slumped with defeat. Uncle Zaffryn and Khiry were attempting to ease her, but their words fell upon deaf ears.

"Was the fact of the matter that unsettling?" King Corbyn delighted. "The truth has come to light, my little ember. You will follow suit with your father and claim the throne."

For all the words I wanted to hear, the king calling himself my father was the least of it all. There were no similarities in our features. Neither did our personalities match. He was a stranger to me, a cunning and deceitful one. There was no part of me that wanted to be shared with him.

I intended to stand but failed miserably. My leg was now worsening, and I could only feel a burning sensation along the cut. Blood no longer seeped from it, but it did dry around its edges. Now, when I remotely moved, the skin would crack and tear, maximizing the discomfort. So, I remained rooted to my spot, just underneath the king, where his wandering gaze followed me.

King Corbyn snickered as he leaned against the throne. His eyes danced at the sight of my struggle.

"The years have come and gone," the king recalled, "How long has it been since our last acquaintance?"

The king stared at my mother, challenging her to reveal the truth of the past. A past I was forced out of without much notice.

"Must you do this," my mother cried. She remained chained, the metal gnawing at her delicate frame. Bruises appeared where the shackles moved.

Again, the cunning king laughed.

"Vilazy, I see the years have done nothing to dissuade your will," he stated.

"Years that you have hidden from." My mother could no longer withhold her resentment towards the king. For every word she enunciated, her wrath burned with it.

I felt the cold hand of King Corbyn as he caressed my hair. A lock of hair dropped soundly into his palms, almost bending to his will. Discomfort gripped at my neck and sweat appeared.

"Did I hide or did you?" The threat within the king's eyes held no room for remorse as he stood. He hauled me with him, pulling at the ends of my hair. I cried out at the pain.

"Where could my mother possibly hide from the likes of you?" Khiry challenged. Even shackled at the wrists, he managed to support our mother. "King of Syrone and you never once attempted to contact us after you left. No farewells and definitely no support left for us. You ran away from your responsibilities and have now come back when it's convenient for yourself."

He twisted my hair even harder at my brother's words. "My son, you bear a deep hate for me."

"I deem that such hatred is appropriate. You have done nothing these past years to make up for the lack of your presence in our lives. Even went so far as to isolate us in the city." The shackles on my brother moved as he fought to remove them from his wrists. "You deserve no right to the throne, and I shall relish when the coming day arrives for a new ruler."

"Spoken like a true brat." The king beamed frighteningly as he watched my brother. "My own blood prays for my downfall. Even so, I am not the only one who shall be at the receiving end of hate."