The King's Remorse

Chapter 3

You Owe Me Your Life

I trip and fall halfway back to the King’s castle.

Tired enough that my mind keeps shutting off, my legs stop responding and go limp. I step on one of my paws, and that’s enough to get me to stumble. I crumble to the ground and don’t bother getting up. I let the darkness swirling in the depths of my head and far-too-human soul wash over me. The cold bite of the ice within the tendrils of black prickles, but it’s nothing against the happiness turned to bitter apple fear over seeing Astra again, nothing against the grief and the agony over not even being able to enjoy what I once fantasized over in feeling my heart beat again.

Too exhausted to do anything more, I close my eyes and let myself drift on the ice in my head. Freezing Phoenix’s veins had drained more energy than I realized. I don’t have enough energy left to make it back to the King’s castle right now.

I also don’t have the energy to face the King. I can’t risk him realizing Astra’s free. We both always knew what would break my curse— I’d have to see Astra again, recognize that my daughter stands before me. If the King figures out that my heart is beating once more, he’ll know that Astra is out of the portal Brook created. I don’t want to know what he’ll do. A part of me hopes he will bide his time. In that case, I’ll have time to work something out with Brook. And if Brook trusts Grey and Alex or Ky and Phoenix, I’ll trust them enough to let them help keep my daughter safe, even if I won’t let them be the sole beings responsible for her safety.

Scraggly trees around me cast jagged shadows that twist and warp as my vision goes in and out of focus. Pain pulses in my paws, tiny pin pricks that shoot through my flesh as blood flow begins to resume something closer to normal circulation. But from the way I can feel the ice grating through my body, I know things will never return to how they were before. My body won’t recover. The curse did so much more than simply stop my heart.

Even with the exhaustion pulling be down into unconsciousness and the pain sending chaotic signals through my body, I keep going back to the fear in Astra’s eyes. The way she looked at me first with curiosity and excitement, but then with fear and hesitation after she saw what I did to Phoenix. I never want to leave her side, not after ninety years apart, but I can’t forget the fear. The genuine fear I’d last seen when the Justice gathered a tiny Astra up in its arms and she thrashed and screamed, pupils blown so wide I could barely see the blue of her eyes.

I press my nose into my forelegs with a whimper, ignoring the uneven skin from the scars and closing my eyelids so I don’t have to see them. It doesn’t matter, though, because I can still feel them. The ghost of each one, the burning sensation lining exactly where each scar is in my mind’s eye. I don’t remember how I acquired each scar. Some came from seeing no other way, desperation for a way out, to feel anything but the pain I could not control and replace it with something I could control. Others happened when I was unconscious but my mind was awake. Sometimes the pain was enough to snap me back to reality. Others I didn’t even mean to make. I was thrashing, limbs spasming, and claws met skin and dug in.

xxxx

I reach the King’s castle sometime the next morning. The sun is high in the sky, so I stick close to the trees to avoid its sharp glare. I keep my gaze on the ground and squint against the bright light.

I’m still tired, exhausted beyond what one night of sleep could ever hope to erase. My powers sit heavy in my chest, pressing in a way that’s less insistent as it is a firm reminder. A reminder I’m not Ice and never will be. A reminder in the same way is the feathery wisps of the human soul I can feel throughout my body.

I never figured out who the soul belonged to. I tried, in the beginning before the exhaustion from the curse hit too hard and I barely had the energy to get up and move, let alone search for someone without any clues as to their identity. The King had to have killed them, but that didn’t help. He has killed many in his time as King of Ragdon. I want to know who they are. It’s been long enough that their relatives are all certainly dead, but I want to know their name and tell them that I’m sorry and never wanted this.

For the billionth time, I wish I could’ve told the King to let me go. I wish I could’ve told him as I died as Ice that I wanted him to let me go, that I never wanted to be brought back. It was my time to die, and I knew it. Maybe if I could’ve told him how much I loved him and that lying there in his warm embrace eased any fear I felt he wouldn’t have done what he did. The way he kept running his fingers over my cheek and side comforted me.

I amble through the expansive gardens surrounding the King’s castle, locked-up muscles quivering at the exertion and joints aching. Beneath a neatly-trimmed tree with leaves that spill out over the cobblestone walkway, I pause for a short while, catching my breath and stretching. I shake out my limbs and paws.

By the time I make it to the massive doors at the entrance, the sun is beginning to dip into the horizon in oranges and reds that look far too much like the Dragon’s fire. I lay down again a ways before the entrance to the King’s castle when the muscles in my back burn too much and start to spasm.

Guard and Soldiers pass me by. Few spare me a glance. They’re used to seeing me around, seeing me fighting against the curse and the symptoms, seeing me unconscious on the ground, unaware after I’d passed out. I watch them as they go by, and most keep their eyes straight ahead, just as they’d been trained. A russet-haired Soldier slows down but continues on his way.

Taking a deep breath, I arch my back, grimacing before I make my way inside the King’s castle. Two Soldiers hold open the doors.

From there, it’s muscle memory to make my way through the hallways lit up by torches and the setting sun. Lines of gold and purple spread through the marble floors and walls like veins. I bite my tongue against the nausea that rises up in my throat. I keep my eyes on my paws and let my vision blur so I don’t have to see anything else.

I only stop walking when I reach the double doors at the entrance to the Throne Room. An iron dragon on each door holds the ring to pull it open. Embellishments carved into the doors depict the King’s Dragon, the King himself, and the Judge and Justice.

“What is your business here?” one of the two Soldiers standing guard at the doors barks.

“I’m Jabez-.”

“I know that,” he snaps. “What is your business here?”

“I’m here to see the King,” I say to my paws, twitching the end of my tail.

The other Soldier seethes, and I frown for a moment before realizing my mistake.

“Refer to your King of Ragdon appropriately in the way he deserves. He is the King of Ragdon. Respect him. You serve your King of Ragdon. Don’t forget that.”

I draw my ears back, and my fur prickles. I haven’t forgotten that. I can’t forget who the King of Ragdon is. The knowledge clings to me like my own shadow.

The first Soldier opens his mouth to add on, but the King beats him to it.

“Come in!” the King cries from within the Throne Room. “It’ll be a party!”

I shrug at the two Soldiers, who both scowl but nod and then reach for the iron rings each held in a dragon’s mouth. They pull the huge double doors open, leaning back to get enough force. I flick my tail against my hind legs as the Soldiers slowly heave open the doors.

They hold them open as I cross the threshold into the Throne Room.

I’ve been in the Throne Room thousands of times, but my heart still races at the sight of the Amethyst Throne and the dark purple walkway inlaid within the marble floor. My vision flickers between reality and the memories of the mockery of a trial that took Astra from me and Freedom some ninety-odd years ago. The ghosts of the Guard and Soldiers who gathered float in wisps across the Throne Room. Below the towering columns that look like looming trees, I can see the stony outline of the Judge and Justice, the glow of the red and the green eyes, until both vanish.

Behind the Amethyst Throne, the Dragon lifts its head and exhales sharply, violet flaring in its nostrils as it narrows its purple eyes and stares at me with a piercing expression.

I snap back to reality and pad forward until I’m at the foot of the Amethyst Throne. The Dragon looks down at me, and its snakehead tail rises from the opposite side of the Amethyst Throne to bare its fangs.

I stand quietly and keep my gaze near the King’s feet, hoping that maybe if I don’t say a word I’ll be able to slink away before he notices me. But after a minute, I see the King’s legs move. The fabric of his purple suit whispers as he uncrosses his legs.

“Bow, Jabez,” the King orders, resting his head on a fist. The golden buttons on his suit glimmer in the torchlight and the glow from the Amethyst Throne.

I flinch at the power behind the words, the way I can feel the low thrum of energy from the Amethyst Throne in the King’s voice. It’s the opposite of the way he spoke to me when I was Ice. That was so warm, and this is so cold.

I sigh, though, and lower myself to my elbows on my forelegs, turning my head to the side to bare by throat. The instinctual fear whispers through my body. I exhale slowly but it’s not enough. I feel too exposed here in front of the Amethyst Throne with my neck displayed.

“Hello, King.”

“It’s King Garonda XIV. Call me by the proper title, Jabez. I made you. I brought you back to life. Don’t you forget that. Your life is because of me. I’m your King. I’m the King of Ragdon. I’m Your Sovereign, Your Excellency, Your Honor, His Highest of all Highnesses, King Garonda XIV.”

“Of course,” I reply softly. “My mistake. I’m sorry.”

I can feel the weight of the King’s gaze raking across my body. I don’t move, even though everything within me is bubbling to the surface, screaming at me to do something. To run, to hide, to drain my energy and try to do something —anything— and keep Astra safe.

He’s gonna know, he’s gonna know, he’s gonna know.

The words batter through my head. It’s the only thought I can think.

My heart beat pounds in my chest, so loud I’m nearly certain the King can hear it himself.

The King inclines his head and studies me, trailing his gaze. I can almost feel the invisible line drawn on my fur. I pin my ears back and resist the urge to bare my teeth and snarl.

“Something’s different with you, Jabez,” the King drawls, voice too calm, as if he’s talking to everyone and no one. “Something’s different, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, acting with faux confusion.

The King is quiet for a moment, and he drums his fingertips on the Amethyst Throne, slouching down as he relaxes.

“Your heart is beating, isn’t it?” the King asks, voice light, as if he hadn’t just delivered terrifying news.

I keep my head tilted to the side to hide the way I exhale sharply. I hope it’s soft enough not to be heard, but a growl rumbles in the Dragon’s chest. I watch it out of the corner of my eye, and it raises its wings, unfurling them.

I want to lie, but I can’t. The King will catch me, and he’ll make my life worse. But confirming his suspicions could mean he finds Astra. Maybe she won’t have time to hide. Maybe the Guard and Soldiers will find her, and they’ll bring her back, and the King will have her, and I won’t be able to stop him to protect her.

My heart pounds in my chest, a fluttering beat echoing my fear and panic. The Dragon and its snakehead tail both tilt their heads to the side, and I know I’ve been caught.

“The Amethyst Throne tells me my Dragon can hear your heart.” The King smiles. “Care to share with the group?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. He can’t get to Astra. She was safe from him for a time, but now she’s not. I lift my head, ignoring the twinge of pain and the pinching sensation, to look up at him.

The King can do what he wants to me, but he cannot touch her. I have to do something, anything. I have to put his focus back on me. I have to get him angry at me, and maybe he’ll forget that he was angry with Astra.

“No, Bryant. Not after what you’ve done.”

The reaction is immediate. The Amethyst Throne pulses with power, and the room shakes. Threads of dark purple spread across the Throne Room like blood pouring from a wound. The Dragon gets to its feet and clambers over the Throne, jaws parted in a snarl. Only Bryant’s touch on its side makes it pause. Violet glows in its throat, the precursor to its fire.

“I’m not Bryant. I’m the King of Ragdon.”

“You’re not the King though,” I say, rising up onto my paws. I make myself meet his gaze, and he glares back at me. “You’re Bryant. I know you’re not the King of Ragdon. There has never been a King of Ragdon. You made up that title. You’re Bryant. You found me when I was a kitten, and you named me Ice, and you took me in and loved me for twenty years before I died of old age and Lucius claimed me. You went against Lucius’s final touch to take me from them, even though I never asked to be brought back.”

“I did you a favor,” Bryant hisses. “You owe me your life.”

I flex my toes to keep myself from crying any more than I already do. “I never asked to be brought back. I never asked for that. I don’t owe you anything, Brya-.”

Bryant rises up, bracing himself on the Amethyst Throne with one hand while he slams his other against one of the armrests of the Throne. “Do not call me that,” he spits. “I am the King of Ragdon, and you will address me as such.”

“You’re not,” I say. “You made up that title. I know you’re somewhere in there. I know the person who cared for me so much as Ice is in there. You couldn’t have just disappeared. But you’ve instead become someone I do not know, and you have done things that can never be taken back or forgotten.”

The King stands, and I see my opportunity.

He keeps his fingertips on the armrest of the Amethyst Throne, but he’s fully upright. I stay low to the ground as I take a deep breath and summon every ounce of energy I can, and then I lunge. My joints complain at the exertion, but I know it’s my chance. I shove away the pain and force myself to move faster.

In a few quick bounds, I’m on the Amethyst Throne, claws digging into its surface for traction. I feel power surge through me like an overflowing river, and I can feel the tendrils of its being brushing against my mind. I push the Throne away as much as I can and ignore everything I can’t. It’s a tantalizing kind of feeling, the power of the Amethyst Throne, but I’ve had enough experience with fantasizing to recognize it and force it away. I was brought back to life through the power of the Amethyst Throne and a person’s grief and twisted desire to never have to say goodbye.

I could forgive the King for not wanting to say goodbye. I didn’t want to either, even though I knew it was my time. I couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Astra and to me when he actually brought me back and then grew angry that I didn’t appreciate his actions.

But now I have a chance, and I take it.

The Dragon growls and steps forward.

The Amethyst Throne’s power courses through my body, mixing with the power I can never remove from myself, the echoing touch from what the King did all those years ago. When the Dragon moves to attack, I react. Ice sputters and explodes in sharp bolts, jagged and pointy. The Dragon jerks back when a spine of ice almost hits it in the face.

I wrap my forelegs around the King’s middle and dig my jaw into his shoulder, holding him close. I kick a hind leg into the Amethyst Throne, sending us both tipping backward. The Dragon starts and tries to catch the King, but it’s too late.

The King’s arms come around my sides, and we tumble back, off the Amethyst Throne and away from its touch.