King of the Seditious

How did I ever think she was lovely? Chavias pondered as he stared at the lustful whore.

Radix’s most favored pet.

She’d sent him away into some idiotic delusion simply by baring her flesh. But Sabine’s mere presence in this world, had drawn him back.

Back to the things I believed in. Back to pieces of me. He thought sadly. Closer to who I was once.

Sabine doesn’t deserve to be contaminated by any of our darkness. Chavias fisted the cold iron key. Feeling the grooves of it biting into his palm.

He strode to his cell and stuck an arm through and wrapped it around toward the lock. Inserting the key, he gave it a grating turn and aimed straight for Radix’s chamber.

He felt a swell of victory at taking her from Radix. The way he’s taken countless things from me. He quietly lifted one of the hooks off the wall just inside the entry to the narrow room. He was almost to Deiti before she sensed him.

Glancing over her shoulder she saw him and her eyes flashed red. But as she opened her mouth to scream, Chavias swung the hook. Angling it so it pierced her veins on one side of her neck, punctured her windpipe. Stealing her words from her. He pushed it through and out the other side of her neck. Sending it through yet another set of veins. Splattering blood on the stone wall.

She patted her neck. One hand topping the other in a desperately repeated motion. Frantically trying to stop the blood from draining from her.

Too late.

She slumped down the wall. Finally holding her neck with one hand and reaching for him with the other.

“You’re too late. I’ll not help you.” He whispered. “You’re less than nothing. Slime under his boot…And now mine. Goodbye Deiti.”

He strode back to his cell. Ripping the hook through his abdomen and dragging it down his chest until it was littered with wounds.

He barely felt the pain. Numb in his current state. Once finished he wiped the hook with her dress so it wouldn’t smell of blood. Then rehung it. Striding back to his cell just as he heard sounds of a heavy carriage rolling above.

He’s back.

Not soon enough. Chavias hid dark glee as he pulled the cell quietly closed and lay on his cot. Wrapping his arms around himself and drawing up his knees as he often did after Okine had long hours of torturing him.

But he listened.

Hearing Radix coming down into the caves. Entering his chamber and realizing what was on the floor. Bleeding all over his personal rooms.

“No!” Radix shrieked in a high note that could have shattered Grier glass.

You’re welcome.

How does it feel to wonder if our boy can get to you…Even here?

And for the first time Chavias felt a swell of something in the caves. He knew that sense…That smell. Though he’d never witnessed it coming from Radix before. He recognized it instantly for what it was.

Fear.

Blue Lark Guild, Dread Country

SAVAGE

Feeling somewhat like a troublesome child, Savage abruptly released ColdKill’s throat and let him slide to the floor as he drew his last gasps of air. Rounding to face her head on, he took a step and met her as she aimed for him with livid color staining her face.

They stopped inches apart. His head dropped down to be nose to nose with her under the hood. His back and shoulders still heaving from his slowing breaths. Face tight from the exertion and blood thrumming through him.

Savage forced his body to cool from the rush of blood pulsing through him from the power of battle. I could hurt her if I don’t settle down.

She reached him and ripped the dagger from his shoulder.

Making him huff through gritted teeth. Staring her down like a starved predator.

“Careful Dimurah.” Someone cautioned from behind them. “He was just fighting…”

“I don’t give two shits!” She shouted stealing his favored line. She tossed the blade to the floor and grabbed a fistful of his wooden kill beads. Knotting his hair to yank him along behind her.

Like Okine used to.

He locked his feet and ripped his head away. Despite it nearly wrenching a hunk of his hair out. Piercing blue gaze cutting through her.

“I haven’t the patience tonight, Murah.” His tone was dangerous.

“Neither do I!” She stood on her toes to glare into his face. Hands tight in fists arced behind her.

Utterly fearless.

“Unless you’re inviting me to your bed. I’m not moving from this alehouse until everyone is clear on how I feel about traitors.” His tone was eerily calm. Making the onlookers ease backward in-case he’d lash out like a prodded serpent.

Dimurah gasped in outrage. Vibrating with malcontent.

“We’re clear, Savage Jack.” One man said quietly.

“Yes, not much misinterpretation of your message.” Another man said under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Thomas, Dimurah’s younger bodyguard entered the alehouse.

Now? Savage’s gaze lit on the man. Fury tightening his face. You wouldn’t have been much good to her from wherever you were at, until now.

Where were you when they had her flat on her back on this floor?

“Thomas!” Dimurah put up a hand to warn him back. Sending Savage a panicked look.

Afraid I’ll kill him too?

She knew the expression on his face and the predatory way his eyes tracked Thomas’ movements. She elected to viciously slap the wound at his shoulder to get his attention.

Stupid. Hissing in pain his head whipped back to her.

“Good I have your attention. This is my alehouse. And killing every night is not acceptable.”

But the pain, strangely, did do the trick. Feeling the heat throbbing through him subsiding, he sidled from her to lean against the pillar where ColdKill had been.

“It’s not every night.” He gave her an unabashed grin. White teeth gleaming.

She sneered at him.

Wanting to hit me so bad her palms itch. He could tell from the way her hands worked.