Latrus stumbled around in the darkness. “Lucrys,” he asked. “Would you tell me why you decided to murder my subjects?” He reached out. He found Lucrys’ hand and patted it gently. “Skaarin, bring a light.”
The glow of the kdulinj spread over Lucrys’ face. He glared across the table at Latrus. When the light found his own face, he noticed a change in Lucrys’ expression. “Something wrong?” He asked. He was puzzled. Lucrys would only know him as his judge and imprisoner, but the look that passed through his eyes hinted at something more.
“You look just like your father,” Lucrys said. He seemed to shut down for a moment as Latrus studied him.
“What do you mean by that?” Latrus asked, keeping his emotions at bay.
Lucrys snarled and began shaking. He laughed hysterically for a moment before sobbing.
“Shit,” Latrus sighed. “I think we’re losing him.” He grew worried as he watched the crying Lucrys. “What do you know of my father?” He asked, patting Lucrys once more.
Lucrys looked at Latrus through red eyes as he shook. “Your father,” Lucrys stammered. “I watched him…” His eyes grew distant. “I watched him eat her. He ripped Mil’s arms off, and he ate her fucking whole. Like a snake… He just consumed her. She was helpless and innocent. And I couldn’t do anything as I watched.” Latrus pulled his hand away. “He just fucking ate her.”
Latrus rubbed his temples and sighed. He put his head into his palms and stared at the table for a long moment. The woodwork was soggy and splintering. He’d never been in this room. It didn’t seem like anyone had been for a while. Perhaps his father had been. Maybe he sat right where Latrus was sitting. King Alucin Latrus, the Consumer of Kingdoms that Latrus despised.
Latrus couldn’t remember bonding with his father. But he could remember his smell. He smelled like blood and corpses. Like steel and fire. But he didn’t smell like a warrior or fighter. It was a different smell. He smelled like Hell itself. As though his own bloated frame were rotting from the inside out. He was putrid. Death was putrid.
Latrus remembered the murderer sitting in front of him. If he got closer, he was sure he could smell the familiar scent of his father. He shook with rage. “Skaarin,” he ordered. “Get him out.” He punched the splintering table. “Get him the hell out!” He pointed at the door as blood spread around his fingers.
“Of course,” Skaarin said, bowing. “You shouldn’t be off breaking things with such brittle bones, Latrus. A king shouldn’t look as bloody or defiled as his former seat.”
Latrus glared at him. “Nobody should have to remember him,” he mumbled. “Him or his kingdom.”
“I’m quite sure a day will come where no one will, young king.” Skaarin patted his shoulder reassuringly as he passed. “Time heals all wounds. That includes those done to the whole world. The only thing that keeps a wound as a scar is the memory of the mind. And I told you how horrific the mind can be.”
Latrus smiled and took a deep breath. “Your quips are amusing, Skaarin. But keep them to jests. You can’t go on if you believe you’re rotten yourself.” He watched Skaarin unlock Lucrys’ cuffs. He pushed at his anger, trying to get it to settle. “Come to dinner with me tonight. I can have a whore fetched for you if you need to make it a date.”
“There you go again. I’ve told you, you’re far too young to take any interest in women. King or no, it’s bad for your head, kid.”
“But they’re interesting,” Latrus argued. “More interesting than anyone with a royal life, you have to agree to that!”
“Then I suppose I will,” Skaarin chuckled. “The royal life is boring, indeed.”
“Then come meet the girl I’ve met in Nuu’reil,” Latrus proposed.
“I don’t think I’m quite up to it tonight. I’ve already found myself with plans more intriguing than being with a king.”
“I’m sure,” Latrus laughed. “Off with you then, Skaarin. And don’t mess with Lucrys anymore. He’s miserable as it is, if he watched my father.”
“Don’t go off getting your head so low now. I just cheered you up for your entertainment tonight. I’m sure that head of yours will roll and roll as the night burns on. Just don’t cock it too far back. You have to look at the pretty girl you’re with to compliment her. Young ladies don’t like a man without compliments. Or hands as bloody as a madman’s.”
“Mine is bleeding royal blood and still works. His is lame, and he put a needle through it. You should have it cleaned.”
“As you should yours.” Skaarin exhaled. “I’m losing my appetite. The smell of royal blood is revolting. Keep yourself pristine, Latrus,” he said. “I’m sure royal blood could be more intoxicating than tonight’s wine to someone who was born outside the kingdom.”
Latrus watched as Skaarin led Lucrys from the room. He couldn’t keep the thought from his mind. That light blue glint that passed through Lucrys’ eyes when he was certainly thinking of revenge and murder. He must have seen Staara’s Flower. No one had eyes like that otherwise. Lucrys' death would surely be a blessing.
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