Chapter Four

Volencia kept looking back in the direction they left in, hoping that she would see him coming back. She hadn’t waited all that long when a crackle resounded through the air. Her hair stood on end. Magic. Fear tingled up Volencia’s spine as nine grey hooded figures appeared before her. The Council was here. Blood running cold, she forced herself to her feet. Larkisis, the Council member they wanted to marry her off to, pulled his hood down first. As the second son of Belodia, he was the only member of the Council who didn’t currently have his own kingdom. He was handsome, but terrifing beyond words. His cold lavender eyes watched her, calculatingly.

A malicious smile grew, “You left your safe haven?”

“Yes,” she raised her chin, hoping that she didn’t look as terrified as she felt. “I want to speak with you all about the future. To make a deal.”

Her eyes skittered to Lock. He ran the Council, so she was hoping he would see the benefit of what she was doing beyond anyone else. A small figure toward the back, likely one of the dwarven kings forced into accepting the terms of the Empire, raised his hands over his head. That he was casting a spell in the square made her nervous.

“And what deal is that little Princess of Thambair?” Lock sneered. There were nine folk in all on the Council. Four of which she believed had no real desire to be part of them. The two dwarves, King Travagrad, and King Jerellbangle. As well as the human Kings from Crath and the Isles.

“That I will give myself up willingly, but what I require in return is a promise of mercy and amnesty for my folk. They don’t deserve—“

Pain shot through her face. Claven had appeared out of nowhere and punched her. She stumbled as he grabbed her hair marching her toward the others. “We don’t need your deal. You were stupid enough to come to us with no protection.” His voice was pitchy almost feminine, with a slight lisp that made her think of a snake. If the rumors she heard were true, evil was an understatement.

As she crossed over the threshold of a protection spell, realization that she was utterly alone hit. No one was going to be able to interfere, and she panicked. Just as she was pushed through the barrier, her father and Greron appeared. Trapped beyond the magic.

“You leave her alone!” Gregron screamed. Pushing his hands against the shield, it sparked around him, shooting him back into the crowd and knocking folk over. “No!” She screamed.

Lock laughed.

“Oh, yes.” Claven said, echoing his master’s laugh. His perfect blonde hair escaped his cloak. His smile manic. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.” He slowly unbuttoned her dress, every time she tried to stop him, he’d punch or kick her. The dress fluttered onto the the cobblestones under her feet. Her petticoats still covered all her secret places, but they were practically see-through. She’d never felt so naked.

“Please stop!” She screamed.

He ripped the dress from her ankles, and she tumbled, her tears running hot, too afraid to stand. Larkisis was chuckling but Lock just looked angry. “I’m disappointed to see you here, Gregron. Such a waist of talent.”

“She is my Princess,” he said, his voice shaking. “I have no intentions of allowing this.”

“Intentions are meaningless.” Lock’s voice was cool and calm. “You will allow it because you have no choice. We came prepared for you.” Gregron charged the shield again, his magic connecting with it for a moment before he was thrown back a second time. Cursing, the folk around him helped him up, glaring at what was happening before them. Gregron’s magic was different from most. He used an anti-magic, called nihility magic, which could negate many spells. But not her father’s curse, or this shield. The spells were just too strong.

Larkisis reached down to snag her skirts again, but she kicked out, catching him in the face with her heal. “I only said I wouldn’t fight if you gave my folk amnesty.” She got up, trying to run, but when she hit the shield, it wouldn’t let her out. “NO!” She kicked out, before pressing her back against it, unsure what else to do. Her magic boiled under her skin, but she was as afraid of it as she was them.

“Hero?” His deep voice hung in the air, calling out. Volencia turned to see Damion pushing through the crowd, his green eyes wide in horror. “What…?” He hit the shield; it crackled around his hands, his fingers spread, and magic flew from where he touched it. He wasn’t thrown back like Gregron had been, instead, it appeared that he was about to rip the shield apart.

She sobbed, “I’m sorry.” The desire to explain everything was overwhelming, but there was no time.

“Motion denied,” tittered a small elf. It was King Jaquisis, who people often teased for being half fairy, because he was so small, and giggled, incessantly. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.” Magic shot out, wrapping around her ankle. She fell, dragged over the cobblestones quickly enough that her skin ripped from her shoulder and leg. Two others converged on her, holding each of her arms, twisting her around so that she was looking at Damion.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobbed uncontrollably.

Claven’s hand ran a course over her shoulders, spreading an all-consuming fear through her body. “Now, what do we have here? Who is your deliciously large friend?” Licking his lips, his body pressing up against her. “Maybe we’ll let him in to play? Hmm? Would you like that? Imagine both of you together in mine and Larkisis’s pleasure room.” His hand moved over her belly and hips, before coming up to squeeze her chest hard enough for her to cry out. “Like what you see, boy?”