The Blood King's Love

Eight

NOTE: Hey guys, it's yo girl! Sorry for the late update. I'm horrible at this and I apologize. But! I wanted to let you guys know that I went back to the old chapters and edited them a lot. I wrote them when I was younger and I had a different vision for the story back then, so I adjusted it for the way I want the story to go now. I'd really appreciate if you went back to read them!
I can't guarantee I'll update soon, but enjoy!

Suddenly the room brightens; candles are lit from the corners of the room, and there's a fireplace burning on the wall to my left. Now I can see the long table in front of me, and the chair that's been pulled out at the end, just inviting me to sit in it. Is he here?

I look up to the the silhouette at the far end of the room, at the other side of the table, sitting silently and unmoving. The room is too dim for me to see his face, but I can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks.

"You've finally made it! Take a seat."

His voice sends a chill down my spine; I almost fall to my knees. My jaw starts shaking and goosebumps run all over my body. I'm completely frozen.

He senses my fear. "Sit, my dove. I won't take one step towards you, I swear."

I guess that's his way of saying "that's an order".

I swallow and limp over to the seat and drop down. There's a cushion on the seat, and when I look closely at the furniture it has swirls and floral designs all over it. Somehow it makes me even more anxious.

I can feel his eyes on me.

"You look quite lovely. Court Lady Lon never ceases to amaze--she can take even the filthiest jewels and make them shine."

I frown and he smiles at me. "Forgive me. I don't mean to be offending you, especially after you've gone all this time locked up and derived of food."

He begins to blabber on about other things, asking me about my thigh wound (and apologizing for it, much to my annoyance) and brings up my guard, asking if I liked him or not--all so casually that it makes me want to scream. How dare he. How dare he talk to me this way, like he didn't murder hundreds of people, like he didn't murder my family, like he didn't just ruin the life of the person sitting in front of him. My fists clench.

I can't hear him over my own thoughts. There's been a question I've been wanting to asking. A question that's been echoing in my mind ever since I was brought here, shouting in my mind like some sort of siren.

"Why did you do it."

He stops talking.

I raise my voice and begin to tremble. "You killed whatever left I had from my family. My friends. She died in front of my very eyes, you know. Every time I close my eyes I see the arrow flying through her body. You had living people, people with so much potential, people with so much life, killed. They didn't deserve it. They just didn't deserve it."

My voice is shaking and I'm tearing up. I can feel myself getting out of control but I just can't stop.

"How many people have you done this to? How many innocent people have you killed, tortured? For why? Was it all just for fun?!"

Out of my blurred vision I see him push back his chair and stand. He's walking towards me, his footsteps echo throughout the room. Just the sound makes me want to vomit but I mute it out with my voice.

"You know what you are? A monster. An absolute monster. You know what they call you, right? The Blood King." He's in front of me now. "They say you--that you gather the blood of your victims, victims you killed yourself, and you--you keep it, you store it away, somewhere in this palace, doing God knows what with it--"

I'm silenced when I notice the look in his eye. It was dead, unfazed. A gaze that said he's heard all of this before. A gaze that was bored of hearing the same old thing, no matter how valid it was. Our eyes lock. I'm frozen, and I can't speak, but I can't look away either.

Then he hands me a cup.

He had picked it up while he moved from his side of the table to mine. It was a glass teacup. There was a clear liquid inside.

We still haven't broken eye contact.

"Drink it."

His voice is deep and demanding; whatever fake cheeriness he had in it earlier was completely gone. Right at this moment, he was an all-powerful King, giving me orders. If I didn't follow this order, it wouldn't end right for me.

It's obvious now that getting me to drink whatever was in this cup was the goal of this whole meeting.

I turn my head and suspect the drink. It's obviously water. I thought it might've been a clear, white wine but there wasn't a smell to it. But there was an herb in it--at first glance one might assume was just a thing high-society people added to make even their food look sophisticated--but I'd seen this plant before. It was green, but the veins were a bright yellow, and there was two stems extending off the leaf.

I'd read something about this plant before.

"Why won't you drink?"

I swallow and don't answer.

He bends down and gets in my face. "Why won't you drink."

I swallow.

Reluctantly, I speak.

"That's poison, your majesty. If I drink it, I would be killed instantly."

A pause.

Then he laughs.

And laughs.

And laughs.

"I knew it! I just knew it! There's no way you were just an ordinary slum girl!" He backs away from me, holding his stomach as he guffaws.

What in the world...

"Your mother truly taught you well, my dearest Varona!"

My jaw drops.

That's my name.

How does he know my name.

How in the world does he know my name.

I sit there, watching him laugh. My mind slowly stops working and goes completely blank, except for one thought:

Why.

I reach out for the cup on the table and drink the entire thing, poisonous herb and all.