The Usurper's Throne

28

The guard tightened the chains another notch and I gasped at the strain in my shoulders. The metal cuffs were already cutting into my skin. My left wrist had a small trail of blood. My entire body was burning with energy. I looked around for a window; metaphorically and literally. I needed wind. Now.

Damien snarled and snapped his jaw at the king. "You cannot harm the marked of a challenger."

"Of course not," the king said. "But, I can't have the collateral escaping, can I? I do not intend to harm her. However, you established no rules that they could not hurt her," he said, pointing up at the guards around me.

Suddenly, one of the guards stepped forward and held up a small, flat tool. It looked like a hand shovel that had the tip sliced off, so it was only an inch deep. Damien swore as he looked up at us. He stepped toward me.

"By all means, leave the circle," the king teased. "The old magic will snap your life force quicker than you thought imaginable. You have much to learn about Old Magic contracts, boy. You think I would falter so easily? I am the Wereking."

Damien locked eyes with me, and I looked from him to the flat tool. I couldn't make out what it was. The guard spun it around menacingly, but I wasn't sure why.

Another one stepped forward with what looked like a harness. He tossed it over my shoulders and several of then tightened straps around my waist and shoulders. I realized they were to keep my wings pinned to my back. I could practically hear Elijah groan, if he were here. Don't let them tie you down. I did it again.

The last strap was tightened, and my wings were fully plastered against my back. One last leather strap hung loose. It looked as though it could go around my waist.

I glanced down at the fiery ring where Damien and the Wereking stood. The Wereking was smiling up at me. I hated how much he looked like Elijah. However, instead of a cautious curiosity, there was a lust in his eyes. "I haven't used any old magic since I banned it," the Wereking called. "Yet, my father often used machines to draw magic from others; I am so grateful he left some of his machines in stock," the king mocked. "Her magic will give me the cutting edge," he said.

With a single, swift motion, the guard plunged the tool between two of my ribs. It slid easily and held. I screamed in shock and agony as I felt the thin metal slice through my flesh. At least an inch buried into my flesh. Another guard took the long leather band and wrapped it around my ribs, covering the wound and pinning the intruder inside my body, a thin wire trailing down to the ground.

Oh, it hurt. My entire body was trying to reject the intruder, but the leather band had shoved it as into me at the hilt. I panted as my muscles contracted in agony. Cold sweat poured down my face. Had I really been complaining about my shoulders being strained? They were nothing. I grit my teeth and stared daggers into the guard's eyes. I felt a fizziness bloom in my shoulders, and I willed it gather. I would destroy this castle. All I had to do—

Suddenly, the fizziness moved down to my ribs and sparked when they hit the knife.

My eyes went wide. No.

I knew this feeling.

My fizziness faded into the tool. He was draining me for power. The pain was constant, but it was nowhere near as excruciating as Leviathan. For whatever reason, the king wanted me awake and aware. My ribs were screaming in pain.

The king sighed and I saw golden sparks tingled in his fingertips. The king played with them and laughed. "I quite like her. I will keep her. Maybe I will keep her bound to me. She is not mated yet, I know," the king said. "My current wife has become a bore. You didn't see this coming. You can feel her pain. Hopefully that won't distract you."

Damien was growling, I realized. Not only was I feeding the king my magic, but my pain was also distracting Damien because I was his marked. Distractions were his biggest weakness, I remembered.

Crap. Damien may not survive this one.

The guards turned to watch the match below.

"I will kill you for that," Damien vowed loudly. "She is mine."

I wanted to yell at him. He didn't care about me; he cared about the king having me. I closed my eyes and tried to distract myself. Why didn't I enjoy being without pain more? I hated pain. It sucked.

I opened my eyes briefly and saw Elijah looking at me in a frozen panic. When did he show up? If he knew that my life's forfeit did not mean death, he would have never given up the throne. Something told me the king kept that card very close to his chest.

The king then stood up from his throne. He whirled the heavy black fabric of his cape around and tossed it to the side. The edge of his discarded cloak fizzled over the magic barrier, sizzling loudly.

"Now, usurper. I have heard whispers of your gift, stopping werewolves from shifting. I knew I couldn't defeat you if I could not shift. Yet, with my little battery all hooked up, I might have more of a chance."

"I will kill you," Damien swore. "There is a reason the Old Magic did not bestow the elemental power on you. You are weak."

The Wereking smirked."We shall see."