5
It took her two days to cross the borders of Sebria.
Throughout her journey, she hoped to see her father for the last time but people had buried him by the time she made it there. Her tears were unstoppable, her heart was lacerated by the cruelty of people. One of their neighbours handed her the key to their house. Courage betrayed her when she stood before the house that she was forced to leave eight years ago. A tsunami of flashbacks hit her in a split second.
She inhaled deeply and strode closer after a whole minute. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and shut her eyes to draw in the air of the house. Her ears prickled on the voices that barged inside her head. Her screams, pleading, whimpers spewed by his dreading voice. His kicks, whips and twisting of her arm. She could see and hear it all.
Renai parted her eyelids and roamed her eyes to every corner of the place. Nothing had changed enough. She ambled and brushed her fingers on the old furniture. Her father's slaps, threats, curses words echoed in her mind. Her eyes fell on the sofa that used to be Aldrich's favourite spot to take. He loved sitting there and have his tea while reading the newspaper. Her steps halted the moment she reached the poky kitchen where she had seen a spirit in the shape of her mother preparing one of her herbal remedies. Tears brimmed and eventually streamed down. She pressed a hand against her mouth and ran outside.
She ran and ran until she reached the place that she missed the most. Her secret spot. The place from where her doomsday had begun. She kneeled before the sun which was her only best friend and cried her heart out until there were no more tears left in her system. Once the burden upheaved from her heart, instinctively she surveyed the spot with a soothing smile. Really, nothing had changed much.
A broken smile crept on her lips as she rested against the tree and closed her eyes to seek peace that her body awfully craved.
Renai had no idea what would she do now and how long it would be safe to stay here. She dismissed the thought and let her mind have some rest.
Meanwhile, her body was totally oblivious to the fact that someone was eyeing every gesture of hers.
***
Zebian
It was cockcrow when he woke up. After fixedly blinking thrice at the intricate ceiling, he leapt out of the bed and left to the private dungeon that he constructed for personal use. The guards outside his chamber stomped their feet out of respect as he trudged in his boxers and a full-length robe cloaking his muscular body.
The doors of the dungeon slid apart and the second guards took note of His Majesty's arrival. He climbed down to the basement and crossed the passage that was lit with sconces on the wall. The main door at the end of the passage opened and there stood his right-hand commander inside the room. The commander deeply bowed and clasped his arms across his stomach.
Zebian spared him a stare while taking off his robe and silently laid on the bed that was situated in the middle of the room. "Begin," He sternly commanded and buried his face in the mattress. The commander nodded his head once, picked the whip and went back to stand at a marked spot. He hoisted his hand and flogged his back with full might, causing red blemishes to appear above his previous scars.
Zebian's eyes tightly clenched and he suppressed a groan in his throat. The commander again raised his hand and flogged, this time with dual force. The scorching sensation inside Zebian's heart hadn't outrun the burning sensation sewing over his back yet. He was flogged again, still stubborn to feel the pain. After having five more flogs, he finally let out a beasty groan. His nails dug into the stony mattress.
And on the fifteenth flog, he weakly lifted his hand to stop.
The commander immediately complied and stepped back. Zebian flipped to his back and mildly hissed. His breathing was laboured as well as his eyes glimmering in pure hatred and vengeance. The heaviness still lingered on his chest which he desperately wanted to get rid of.
It was a daily ritual that he had been exercising from the day he ascended the throne. His jaw was painfully clenched when he jerked up and paced in circles. The commander quietly witnessed him transforming from helplessly frustrated to menacingly enraged, his eyes went to the king's knuckles that had turned white.
"What's the lead on Aldrich?" The King asked, gritting.
"Your Majesty, we are still paving the way to draw a fruitful result," The commander confidently retorted even when his inner-spirit had been shaken by the question. Zebian's feet halted, and his red-rimmed eyes darted at the commander.
"Have you found anyone's behaviour fishy, even the slightest lead Kolton!?" He roared with the gravest tone he possessed. The commander gulped and loosely shook his head.
"I beg your pardon, my Majesty," He muffled under his breath and kept his gaze low. Zebian fumed excruciatingly and stomped to the table that had a bottle of wine. He unscrewed the cork and splashed the drink on his back, feeling liquor slicing his skin apart, he growled like a wild animal until the bottle had left with no drop. He hurled the bottle against the wall, smashing it into millions of splinters.
His back had reddened and swollen blotches. A deep grunt resonated from his throat, his chest heaving up and down while his hand rested on the wall and eyes bore holes in the ground. The next, he stormed out of the cellar without bothering to put anything on. He dashed straight to his chamber and went to the bathing hall.
"Leave!" His staff bowed and quietly stepped out. He slipped out of his boxers and stepped inside the deep pool that offered a splendid view through the huge window. The toasty warm water needled his back but he wasn't much concerned. He practised holding his breath underwater to calm his nerves. He came out after twenty minutes of bathing and suffering.
Draped in his bathrobe, he went to the dressing room and took on the soapbox. The staff took their time to dress him up. They shed the robe and his naked body came before his eyes through the mirror. He scrutinised the scars on his chest and then his eyes averted to the silver ring he cladded on his index finger. His eyebrows contorted in distress. Once they pinned the last badge which was made up of rare diamonds after draping him in a royal cape, all of them back-stepped, following a bow.
He sighed and left without a word. An army of military guards followed him as he headed to the courtroom. The hearing was held for a few hours as the discussion of attacking the rival state was the hot talk of the town. The king had given his approval to prepare for the intrusion. In the evening, he went out in the states to inspect the markets and survey people's reactions to the news of the war. So far, he concluded everyone feared him and preferred to stay mum. Good. That's what he wanted to see, fear in the eyes of his people. He was quite contrary to his father's nature. His foolish father who wore his heart on his sleeves but he was no idiot. He would never let people talk over him.
He tugged the bridle to halt his horse opposite the house that had been under his hawk-like eyes. The man who resided in it finally lost his life for good. For eight years he waited to seek a clue out of him without crossing the extremes, but he had been dead weight for the heck of it. He should have killed him rather than tending a hope.
Now, there was one last hope left which was his death news itself. Zebian inhaled deeply and made the horse swivel around. All night he kept replaying the moment when he beheaded Aldrich. The pathetic excuse of a man gave out no clue about her. To hell with his loyalty to the previous king. He was a fucking king now, he should have obeyed him in order to live, but seemed like he liked taking risks. His madness only produced his death.
He groaned bitterly and flipped to the other side of the bed. Hours had flown under his nose yet he couldn't force sleep on himself. All night he had been thinking about them. Those four years flashed in his memory like a cursed loop. Her talkative eyes, mesmerising smile, blushing cheeks. Every memory of her teased him for eight years yet she disappeared like she never existed. Like everything was a mirage. Stones of anxiety weighed on his chest. Remembering her was torture. Lethal torture.
His body temperature started elevating. He yanked the duvet and hurled out of the bed only to heavily jogged toward the torturing chamber. It was three in the morning. His guards called the commander when he barged inside the cellar. The commander came in less than a second and found the king tying himself to the wall. Zebian commanded Kolton to properly make sure he was tied so he could not escape. He asked him not to stop unless he would reach close to death. The pain of unrequited love had grown him into a lunatic. It was better to feel physical pain than the pain her love brought within him.
Kolton gulped and unwillingly picked the leather whip. He inhaled deeply and flogged his bare chest. Zebian tightly shut his eyes along with a jaw clenched like a blazing knife. He flogged thirty times until The King was dampened in his own blood. Kolton couldn't make himself hit him more. He couldn't fathom why the Majesty had been doing this to himself. He never told anyone, but little did he know it was associated with his childhood.
"Hit me more," Zebian hoarsely commanded, his voice barely audible. Kolton sighed and peeked at his chest which was graced with split-open scars given by him. He instinctively shook his head. Zebian's parted eyes caught his defiance with a laboured breath.
"I said hit me more!" He seethed this time. Kolton let out a ragged breath and lowered his head for a moment, his eyes fell on the pool of blood streaming around his bare feet.
"Yes, your majesty," He gulped and raised the whip. He flogged five more times, the next Zebian was a snap close to black out. He yanked the weapon and rushed to check his pulse. He needed medical assistance. Without waiting for another breath, he untied him and put him to bed. Zebian was partially-conscious. Kolton called the imperial doctors who tended to him. All the while, his mind was racing with her memories. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of her. So, he promised to punish himself more. He made the decision.
His whole chest was cloaked in gauze. In the evening, he attended the hearing even when many of his servants indirectly opposed his idea. He discussed the current circumstance with the royal members and then sought their attention for an announcement. His mother, The Queen, was also presented in the courtroom.
"Since all of my trustees have realised that Durban state has become our necessity to conquer Calmia, and for that, we need to strengthen our troops and ensure the locality... I also wondered what would happen if we get the state without exerting much effort…" Zebian paused to reckon his people's reaction. Everyone seemed baffled.
He smirked and lightly nodded. "It is possible…It is possible if I marry the princess of Azura," he reiterated, stunning every member of the courtroom, including his mother who was dying to hear this. A loud hand of applause howled in the hall in the following second. Everyone clapped and hooted.
"Long live the King. Hails to the King!" The crowd chanted in unison. The Queen stood up with a scoffing grin and came to hug him. She turned to the crowd and hailed his hand above their head, the crowd roared in acknowledgement. She urged the imperial minister to write a letter to the Azura Kingdom.
Meriall announced hosting a fair tomorrow. The crowd's applause was now touching the skies. She chuckled as she was over the moon. Zebian glanced at her and passed a small smile. "I'm so happy to hear this. You made me wait for a very, very long time," Meriall complained, Zebian lightly chuckled and pulled her in his embrace. His face was nuzzled in her neck when he exhaled a shaky breath. For his kingdom, it was a moment of celebration but only he knew what sort of punishment he signed up for. Now he believed his father must have killed her. There was no way she was coming back. So, to torment himself, he agreed to the proposal that seemed his answer for eight years.
Zebian retired to his room in the evening. He wasn't feeling well after the proclamation. He sat at the bed wondering if he was ready to face the suffering. He was going to marry a princess and make her his concubine. If he failed to find her within a year, he would make the princess his Queen. That would be the end of his hope. He would forget her like she had forgotten him, but the pain would bring havoc on his heart that could lead to his death, he knew.
He sighed frustratedly and was about to lay when someone rapped on the door. His eyebrows quirked. "Your Majesty, the sword of honour has arrived with a lead," Kolton informed, making him jolt into a sitting position. He rushed to the door and barged it open. His eyes searched for his sword of honour.
"Where is he?" He asked, impatient.
Kolton blinked and led the way quietly. By his urgent steps, he could feel the lead was a big shot. They reached the private lounge of his chamber. Zebian commanded Kolton to stay out of the room. He majestically stormed inside the hall, making the sword of honour to bow. Zebian took the throne and turned to him.
"Speak," He commanded huskily.
"Your Majesty, the lead…" He blinked, forcing the courage to help his tongue. He had no clue how the King would take the news. Zebian's jaw twisted as his hand clutched the armrests. Restlessness irked his desperation.
"Speak if you wish to live," He grumbled lowly.
"Your Majesty, the lead is here in the states,"