Blood On The King's Hands Eso 소설 & 이야기

His breath was hot against my face, and I grinned. “Saving your life, Your Majesty,” I said, my smile widening. Darius shoved me away. He stumbled back, and when he raised his hand—the hand that had caught the blade—I saw something that made my blood run cold. The blood dripping from his palm wasn’t red. It was black. The black liquid spread across his skin in dark veins, twisting like webs. “Curses,” he muttered under his breath as he collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain. Swords were drawn. Eyes turned toward me. “What have you done to the King?” someone shouted.

Someone was hunting and then fled after he got his prize? No. It was human blood. I snapped my head when I heard someone sniffing. I forgot how to breathe at the sight in front of me. The Lycan King? Hot tears rolled down his eyes as he stared down at his bloody hands. His sword was lying on the snow and it was also bloody. A shiver ran down my spine. Perhaps it was from his enemy's blood. I learned that he was once a soldier fighting for war side by side with the previous king of this kingdom. That must be it.

The fucker indeed used mind spell! His red blazing eyes suddenly fell on the sword. Grabbing it he pulled it near his eyes. This sword. He used this fucking sword to hurt her right? Then shouldn't he feel the same? Swinging the sword he harshly slash his hand multiple times before grabbing the sword in his bloodied hand and doing the same with his other hand. Just after his both hands were fully bloodied the door of the room got slammed open revealing Carol who gaped at him in shock. "My lord! What has happened to your hands?" He panicked running towards the kneeling king.

The temperature in the room plummeted several degrees, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished several candles, plunging a section of the room into darkness. Lord Malachi raised a calming hand, his authority silencing the brewing conflict. "Enough. We are not here to bicker over floral arrangements or perceived slights to our venerable ages. The issue at hand is far more pressing. The blood king has returned, and his presence threatens to unravel everything we have built."

She was terrified of his humanity. Outside Bianca’s room, in the villa’s shadowed halls, Giovanni knelt beside a corpse, the body of another guard, throat slit the same way as Carlo’s. Pinned to the man’s chest was a bloodstained card, marked with a single word: “King.” And Giovanni knew, with ice in his veins, that the knife meant for Matteo had already slipped inside the fortress walls.

Before I know it, the King tucks out a blade and slashes my front torso slantwise; from my left shoulder to a point near my right hip. The sudden pain causes me to wince as I nearly choke on the blood spurting from my mouth. It is a good thing I always could endure pain. If not, trying not to flinch or act like I’m going through one would have been a massive failure. As blood gushes out of the wound, most flowing down my legs and filling the dents, I watch the Umbra Crown slit his left palm to let his blood drip into the sword dent too. The rock, meant to react to blood, releases components that mix with the blood and gradually stiffens the latter.

Blood was dripping down my pant leg, staining my sock red. It was the exact wound Ezra had clawed open. And right now, Ezra, King Soren, and all the soldiers were staring right at it.

He shut his eyes for a moment, one hand holding the bottom hilt of his sheathed sword. Kael stepped back as he stared at the King, glowing, blue strings of alar surrounding him. It was the second time he had witnessed the power of the Aragon’s Empyreal Ability … His first was in the high tower where they fought Lucas. And now, seeing it had still amazed him.

I stared at my wound, admonishing the beast within me that was howling in anger. The king extended his withered fingers, clasping his hands together and holding a bowl beneath my bleeding wound. Warm blood flowed within me, converging into a red line pouring out of the wound, then gathered in the bowl. "Ah..." The king sighed. Soon, the bowl was filled with blood. He cupped his hands, bringing it to his face. Then, he sighed like a groan, and spread my blood over every scar on his upper body. "Ha-ha... Ha-ha-ha... Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."

He also has dozens of young concubines living in his chambers to appease his strangest sexual desires. He is selfish lunatic, yet he is the one most expected to be the heir of Elowen's crown. He assertively picks one of the knives from the platform then proceeds to graciously make a small cut on his palm then squeezes a few drops of his foul blood over the chalice set upon the threshold. With baited breaths the kings, queens and nobles wait for the crown's light to turn white. But it doesn't! Flabbergasted, Prince Elon makes a larger than normal cut this time, almost impaling his entire wrist and screaming in the process. But the jewel retains it's red light despite his blood pouring into th