Elara's POV
The court mage's hand slammed down on the stone table, making me jump. Again!
My legs shook. I'd been standing in this freezing chamber for three hours, pouring my magic into King Cassius while he sat on his throne like a hungry shadow, swallowing every drop of power I gave.
I can't, I whispered. My voice came out broken. Please, I need to rest.
The king didn't give you permission to stop. The mage's eyes were cold. Cast.
I looked at King Cassius. He stared back with those dead, dark eyes. Waiting. Always waiting for more.
My hands trembled as I raised them. The spell pulled from somewhere deep inside me, like yanking out my own bones. Light burst from my palms, flowing into him in rivers of gold. The room spun. Something warm dripped from my nose.
Blood.
I stumbled. The world tilted sideways.
Enough. The king's voice cut through the air like a knife.
The mage froze. Your Majesty, we need
I said enough. Something dangerous flickered in King Cassius's tone. Take her back to her tower.
The guard caught me before I hit the floor. Everything went fuzzy as he carried me away, but I heard the king's voice one more time, quieter now: And bring her food. Real food, not that prison slop.
Why would he care?
The next morning, I woke up to find a tray outside my door. Fresh bread. Honey. Apples that weren't bruised or rotten. My hands shook as I grabbed the food and pulled it inside.
This had to be a trick.
I ate anyway. I was too hungry to care.
That afternoon, a servant girl brought me a blanket. The king heard you were cold last night, she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. He ordered this brought to you.
Why? I asked.
She just shook her head and ran away.
It didn't make sense. The servants told me stories about King Cassius while they thought I couldn't hear. How he'd burned villages that refused to pay taxes. How he'd thrown his own uncle in the dungeons for questioning his orders. How he'd watched a man get tortured without blinking.
They called him the Butcher King.
So why was he being... kind?
Three days passed. Every morning, the guards dragged me to the power sessions. Every evening, I collapsed in my tower, barely alive. But each night, small things appeared at my door. A pillow. A candle that smelled like lavender. A book of old poems.
I never saw who brought them.
On the fourth day, the court mage pushed me too far.
The border wars are getting worse, he snarled, pacing around me like a wolf. The king needs more power. Much more. You'll cast until I tell you to stop.
I've already cast five spells today, I said. My whole body ached. I can't
You'll do as you're told!
He grabbed my arm and forced my hand toward the king. The magic ripped out of me like he was tearing my soul apart. I screamed. The world went white with pain.
Then black.
I woke up on the cold floor with blood in my mouth. The mage stood over me, furious. Get up. We're not done.
Yes, you are. The king's voice froze everyone in the room.
King Cassius rose from his throne. He moved toward us with deadly calm, each step echoing like thunder. The mage went pale.
Your Majesty, I was only
Get out. The king's voice was so quiet it was terrifying. If you push her that hard again, I'll have you thrown from the tower walls.
The mage fled.
Silence filled the chamber. The king looked down at me, his face unreadable. Then he did something that made my heart stop.
He knelt beside me.
Can you stand? He asked. His voice was different when it was just us. Softer. Almost... human.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He helped me to my feet, and for one strange moment, his hand steadied mine. His skin was warm. Real.
Our eyes met.
Something passed between us. Something I couldn't name. For just a heartbeat, the Butcher King looked almost... lost.
Then he pulled away, his cold mask sliding back into place. Take her to her tower, he ordered the guards. And tell the mages she rests tomorrow. Anyone who objects answers to me.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about his hand holding mine. About the way he'd looked at me.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside my door. They stopped right outside.
Someone slid something under my door.
I waited until the footsteps faded, then rushed over. It was a note, written in elegant handwriting:
I'm sorry.
My heart hammered. The king's handwriting I'd seen it on royal documents.
Why was he apologizing? Why did he care?
I pressed the note to my chest, my mind spinning with questions I couldn't answer.
A sound made me freeze. Voices outside my tower window angry, hushed whispers drifting up from the courtyard below.
Tonight. While she's weak.
Are you certain? If the king finds out
The king won't know until it's done. The girl is too dangerous. We end this before she realizes what she truly is.
My blood turned to ice.
I rushed to the window and looked down. Three figures in dark cloaks stood in the shadows. One of them looked up, and moonlight caught his face.
The court mage who'd tortured me today.
He smiled.
Then they disappeared into the darkness, heading toward my tower entrance.
They were coming to kill me.
And I had nowhere to run.