Chapter 9: It Hurts Real Bad

Azalea grew attentive again. ‘Why do you speak so often of creating things? You have said you made the king and that you made this world. Are you some goddess who has stolen a place within my body?’

‘God, no. Believe me, a goddess would have done a much better job.’

She waited for an explanation. I wanted to give her one, but where was I supposed to begin? With my laptop? My birthday? My dead fiancé? Or the fact that the characters I had invented were doing things I had never written?

Boots sounded beyond the dungeon door.

I stopped listening to my own thoughts. The steps grew distinct, accompanied by metal scraping against metal. I pulled my legs towards me, ignoring the pain, and watched the iron door swing inward.

Torchlight swept over the cell. Three men entered, with a fourth following close behind. At their head was Elric.

I recognised him at once. He was tall and broad, with cropped hair and a scar running from his left temple towards the corner of his mouth. I remembered typing that scar into his description while sitting at my desk, pleased with how intimidating it made him. Seeing him in person rather ruined my appreciation for my own creativity.

‘The Gamma,’ Azalea whispered.

She recognised his position, but I knew considerably more. Elric had suffered alongside Valdman in the Rogue dens. He was fiercely loyal, quick to anger and especially cruel towards anyone associated with the Wakefields. I had also written a measure of compassion into his history, buried under all that resentment.

There was no sign of compassion in his face now.

He surveyed me with open disgust. The soldiers behind him were hardly more reassuring. One bore a scar along his throat; another was missing part of an ear. I couldn't remember describing either man. The longer I lived here, the more I wondered how much of Lupera existed beyond the pages I had written.

Elric stopped in front of me. I drew my knees towards my chest as best I could, the chains scraping behind my shoulders.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked.

He seized my throat.

I grabbed his wrist, but the cuffs prevented me from pushing him away. His grip pressed against skin already tender from Valdman's collar, and I struggled to breathe normally.

‘Get your hands off me.’

He ignored me, examining my torn red clothes and the injuries I could scarcely conceal.

‘I shall have the first claim this night,’ he said. ‘For once, the king has left something for me.’

My thoughts stumbled. I knew what he meant, and every part of me wanted to be wrong.

‘The king and his Beta have always claimed their pleasures before the rest of us,’ he continued. ‘I have accepted what they chose to leave. But tonight, Princess, you have been delivered into my keeping.’

I pulled against his grip. ‘Then tell your king to find another prisoner. I'm not doing this!’

Elric gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘You presume you have a choice?’

Azalea began pleading inside our head, her words running together in terror. I couldn't answer her. My attention was fixed on Elric's hand and the soldiers waiting behind him.

‘I am not your king,’ he murmured. ‘You would do well to remember that.’

He jerked me towards him, and I drove my knee between his legs with all the strength I could muster.

He grunted and loosened his grip. For one glorious instant I thought I might have hurt him badly. I shoved at his chest, desperate to put some space between us, but he caught my knee and squeezed until pain shot along my leg.

I screamed.

He dragged me sideways, slamming my back against the dungeon wall. My head struck the stone a heartbeat later, and the entire cell spun before my eyes. I slid to the floor, barely able to support myself, with blood trickling down one side of my face.

Azalea cried out inside our head. The sounds of her terror mingled with my own, and I could barely concentrate on where Elric stood.

Deep within us, Aza stirred. I sensed her wolf struggling to heal our injuries, gathering what strength she possessed, but the effort faltered. The ache in my skull persisted, and the blood kept running towards my eye.

I was blocking her wolf again from healing us.

‘Come on, Aza,’ I begged silently. ‘Please. We need you.’

There was no answer from the wolf.

Elric stood over me, furious and breathing hard. I had described him as a merciless warrior, but I had never imagined him taking satisfaction in threatening a wounded prisoner this way. He had his own will, his own cruelties, and realizing that scared me more than my manuscript note ever could.

I tried to sit upright. My leg barely cooperated, and the chains prevented me from moving beyond the wall. Azalea had begun crying even more, begging me to help her, and I hated that I had no solution to give.

Elric approached closer. I could hear the fastening of his belt as the other soldiers watched, making no move to intervene. One snickered when I tried to retreat.

‘Please,’ Azalea whispered. ‘You created things. Please save me.’

‘I’m trying,’ I told her, though I could hardly bear the lie. ‘I’m trying, to you.’

I also need saving as well because I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore.

I pulled myself backwards over the stone, fighting the ache in my leg and the restraints at my wrists. Elric was only a step away when a fresh pain struck my temples.

It was unlike the injury from hitting the wall. I pressed both hands towards my head, and for an instant the dungeon slipped from my sight.

Valdman.

I saw him pacing within his private chamber, his boots striking stone while he thrust a hand into his hair. His shoulders were rigid, and his eyes held a fury I couldn't explain. It was so vivid I could almost hear his footsteps.

Then I was staring at the dungeon again.

What the hell had just happened?

I had no wolf and no gift for seeing into another person's chamber. Azalea hadn't mentioned any such ability, and I had certainly never written one for her. But I had seen Valdman, and the image had been nothing like an ordinary memory.

‘Help me,’ Azalea pleaded again. ‘Please, someone help me.’

Elric bent towards me and gripped the torn clothes at my shoulder, preparing to pull it away.

The dungeon door opened.