The Usurper's Throne

31

There was a tense moment—a standoff. The two men stared at each other. I felt the piece of metal slicing through me...I was lightheaded thinking about how it.

Damien shifted into his wolf form and leapt at the Wereking. The Wereking lifted his hands and a blast of air knocked Damien onto his side. The wereking laughed, staring at his hands in childlike awe.

He glanced up at me as Damien rolled back onto his. The wereking pointed up at me. "I am keeping you!" he exclaimed. "This is wonderful," he told Damien. "I understand why you've been draining her. Exhilarating! I feel a thousand years younger!"

Damien just growled.

They disappeared under the lip of where I stood, so my eyes strained to catch sight of what was happening below. I heard a pained yelp that I could only guess was Damien's. If Damien died, I wouldn't die. But, the Wereking would turn me into his magical blood-bag.

I just wanted to be left alone.

My arms ached horribly, but that was nothing compared to the splicing pain in my ribs. Leviathan's octopus things felt like needles driven into my hands, but these needles were driven into me from the inside. The pain grew with each second.

Pain echoed throughout my body.

"Turn it up!" I heard the Wereking exclaim.

One of the guards up by me turned a lever and I felt myself being sucked into the metal blade in my side. I tried to curl into it, but gravity and chains made that impossible. I was sobbing, I realized. Each breath drove the blade deeper into my side, kept there by the leather band around my waist.

Damien and the Wereking dove back into view. I quickly realized what the Wereking's plan was. Damien couldn't leave the ring without dying. The Wereking was trying to use the wind to blow Damien out. It should have been an easy task.

However, Damien was using illusions, tricking the Wereking into thinking he was somewhere that he was not. From an outsider's perspective, the Wereking looked crazy, glancing around the fire-lit circle as Damien pawed around him, clear as day.

The Wereking blasted wind downward in a hard blast, temporarily blowing out the magical fire lining the circle. It slammed Damien into the ground. The crowd watching stumbled.

That was my power, I thought weakly.

Maybe. Just maybe I could knock these guards off this landing. I could escape.

"Turn it up!" the king shouted hoarsely.

Before I could do anything, the guard beside me turned up the dial and I screamed as more energy began to flow from me. This—this was worse than Leviathan. Black dots danced in front of my eyes hellishly. My limbs felt like they were full of air. I couldn't move if I wanted to. The room was spinning slowly.

"Naomi," a voice whispered in panic. Hearing voices. Dying? "Naomi," the voice said again. "It's Elijah."

My feverish brain must have been playing tricks on me.

Suddenly, the sucking feeling stopped. I could still feel the blade between my ribs, but sweet nothingness swept over me. The king shouted in panic from down below. The guards looked at each other in confusion before being pushed over the railing to the floor below. All four of them fell, shouting in alarm. I heard crashes below. I hope they fell on something expensive.

The chains holding me up were lowered and I slowly was lowered onto the ground. I felt but did not see hands unchaining my ankles and wrists. I blinked, and Elijah came into view. Elijah? He removed the leather band from around my waist and met my unfocused eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, shoving the lip of the leather band that was around my waist in between my mouth between my teeth. It tasted like blood.

He yanked the blade from my ribs, and I yelped. I bit down on the leather.

Apology not accepted.

I moaned in pain, and he pulled the leather out of my mouth. "Naomi, stay with me." Darkness was battling for my vision. He pulled me up, so my head was on his thigh. I was burning up. Fire had replaced my blood—sweat poured down my face. My shirt was red. Completely red. I could have sworn it was blue this morning. He quickly set his hands over the open wound. I blinked at how large it was. No wonder it hurt so bad. I didn't remember the blade being that big. I felt lightheaded as the room spun mercilessly.

"This feels vaguely familiar," he said. I closed my eyes as he whispered words around his finger, making another golden cotton candy finger. Then, he pressed his hands into my side. Another sweet sensation flooded my body.

"Elijah," I managed before hissing a breath of air. I had to tell him about Damien. Damien couldn't win. He had to hook me back up. He had to save the Wereking.

I felt Elijah's hand gently brush my hair as he healed my side. "I had to. I couldn't—I couldn't let him win. I'm so sorry, Naomi," Elijah said wistfully.

I took a deep breath and grabbed his hand desperately. "Take me with you. Don't leave me."

A glimmer of hope crossed over his face. He nodded. "I will."

In a flash, the sensation was gone from my side, replaced with aches and exhaustion.

A loud thump echoed above me and a limp Elijah collapsed onto me. I yelped and sat up as best as I could. Above him, there was a guard, holding his right shoulder. He held a baton in his hand.

The guard reached out with his hand and grabbed my blood-soaked shirt. He yanked me out from under Elijah's collapsed body and dragged me to the edge of the landing. I looked over at Elijah, whose head was leaking blood from the back.

The guard's boot clamped down on my chest, forcing me to lie flat. I stared up at him as darkness crowded out my vision. No. Not now. I had to stay awake.

A loud roar went up along with shouts of panicked despair.

Sleep, child.

I fought to stay awake. Elijah needed my help. Damien would kill him.

But you are so tired. Just a few minutes of sleep.

Stay awake. The boot grew heavier on my chest.

"The king is dead!"

Stay awake.

"All hail king Damien!"

With that, I passed out.