Page 13 of A Broken Promise

I looked outside the dusty, small window in my room and finished what Brita was too afraid to admit. “And then I am sent off to be tortured by the Destroyer General.”

“I am so sorry, my dear. I wish things would be different,” Brita almost whispered. Again, so much pity in her voice.

It irked me. Anger, as if a dragon within me, stirred, breathing clouds of smoke.

Is that what she tells those small children before putting bows on them and handing them off to a fire breathing monster?

What was the point of her kindness if other people had to pay the price? It was more arrogance then, not kindness, to be able to show you pity and sorrow, and choose not to do anything about it.

I cooled my anger, taking another look at her. She was young, perhaps barely eighteen, working as a maid at a Royal’s house. Not a slave, but still a servant. I knew better than to judge a person by their looks. Some scars went unseen, running much deeper than the surface.

Brita carefully helped me put on a dress, her hands warm and soft, each touch gentle and caring. The deep emerald fabric perfectly matched my green eyes, calling out the darker hues in them. Even though it was the heat of the summer, the dress was long sleeved. Smart of Brita to cover all my scars and bruises. Though framed to the body, it was loose; so damn loose on me. It was made to show someenticing cleavage, but the square cut neckline looked dismal with my chest bones poking through the thin skin. I watched her do a few final touches on my hair and make-up on my face and I wondered then how exactly she knew Dimitrii was a nasty man.

All dressed, Brita took a good look at me, putting on a smile.

“Look at you now, looking like a proper lady.”

I raised my eyes at her, questioning the sanity of that statement considering the small black eye that make-up was covering, but I didn’t argue.

“Well dear, it’s time to head upstairs.”

Brita held my elbow as I walked away from the room, helping me make each step. Walking up the stairs was hard; my ribs were on fire, and my stomach twisted and turned in pain. The nausea was back stronger than before. I needed to be operative, aware, but my pounding headache and aching muscles were almost blinding me.

Brita kept up her pace until we arrived by the tall, dark, wooden doors. They were exquisitely carved with thorns and roses and a large crown in place of the door knocker. Two guards stood by them with large spears at their sides. Just like the guards from the night before, they were dressed in burgundy leathers with the crown mark over their heart.

She nodded her head to them in a semi-bow, welcoming them with a smile. They didn’t bow back; didn’t even greet her. I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. Guards, servants—same people, different uniforms. She didn’t deserve the hostility. But I kept my mouth shut.

Brita turned to me and smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes creating tiny wrinkles.

“I am sorry, but this is where we part,” she said. “The guards will take you to the throne hall where you’ll await his arrival.” As if sensing my question, she continued. “We are not sure when exactly he is coming today or how long he is going to stay with us, but if I don’t see you again, I wish you good luck, Finnleah.”

“Thanks for the food, Brita. It was the best I’ve ever had.” I didn’t bother smiling or offering fake pleasantries, but I was grateful for that. It was sincere gratitude, though my voice was dull and lifeless. Britastood still with her hands deep in the white apron pockets, watching guards put the large rope around my neck to leash me and tie my hands once more.

Unnecessary, really. I could barely walk, less so fight or even try to object. And if I had any strength left, I would save it for my last hurrah to take the Destroyer General with me if Lady Fate was benevolent enough to grant me that chance.

Lately though, it seemed that she ultimately didn’t care.

7

The guards opened the heavy doors and led me into another hall. I was thankful it wasn’t Dimitrii. I didn’t think I could’ve handled him right now. Not when my mind, mixed with agony and strength, barely stayed afloat.

The guards were quiet and distant and so was I. They were much less patient with me than Brita, almost racing across yet another hall. Tripping a few steps, I winced at the piercing pain in my side as I quickly caught myself.

The throne room was much brighter than I remembered. Now, in the daylight, large stained-glass windows, stretching high up the walls, lit up the large room in bright colors. Walls and ceilings melted together into the large dome above. Great wooden beams lined the gray stone walls. Tapestries on the walls depicted beautiful hunting scenes, engraved in ornate, golden frames.

The large table in the center of the room was now decorated with skulls of large animals, serving as vases for full blooming flowers. The contrast of the mighty dark table with white skulls and gorgeous colors of the flowers imprinted in my brain. Soft, yet harsh, and so beautiful. Most chairs were gone, leaving only two, placedopposite of each other. My eyes paused as they ran over two large, ivory plates on each end of the tables.Only two.

I took another deep breath as we stopped. I didn’t remember seeing them yesterday but there were small lounge couches spread across the room, just big enough for two people to sit on them. They were covered in luxurious red velvet with small pillows on top of them, embroidered with gold threads. The soft furs thrown across the floor pleasantly tickled my feet.

But no décor could change the heavy air in the room. The anticipation of waiting for the Lord of Death to arrive.

Lord Inadios stood still, ignoring my arrival and admiring one of the oil paintings. His sausage-like hands gripped tight his carved cane. It seemed like his neck was nonexistent with his face melting into his chest. His hair was thinning out with a large bald spot on the top of his head, yet he brushed over the remaining hair to try and cover it up. The hair itself was yellow, greasy, and laying in thin strands just past his ears. He wore a tight suit with pants that looked too short and exposed his hairy ankles. His dark brown vest was unbuttoned, showing the mustard color shirt stretched tight underneath.

In such a room of luxury and contrasting beauty, he stood out like a thorn.

But so did I.

He turned around, his cane squeaking under the heavy weight of his body as he made a few steps towards me. The guards tightened their hold on my leash.

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