The guards have taken nearly fifty Kayonese women. Together, huddled, it looks like a fountain pen had fallen over. Most of the women are not scared. Or at least they don't show any signs of being so. Beside me was Malikah. She is still holding on to me. This time, to my arm. She is trembling. I pull her into me to try to ease her shaking.

We, the prisoners, are shoved together in the middle of a courtroom. Surrounded by guards and noblemen with pinched mouths and upturned noses, we stand utterly silent. It's the worst kind of silence- the kind that cuts. I realized we are waiting for something-someone. In front of us is a large dais. On the dais sits a massive throne made out of brass and decorated with rubies. A thrown fit for a king. The king.

 "Auriel, what is happening? I can’t see."

I had purposely stood in the back. Not the very back, but yet, the back. I want to be invisible. I was obviously not a Kayonese woman and the single glance of my hair would prove just that. I didn't want to call attention to myself. I can't handle that.

 “Nothing. They are waiting for the king.” I whisper to her, but it feels like a yell among the silence. Guards dressed in white clothes and brass armor flood in. The royal guard, I would assume. The king is behind them.

There are sometimes these moments that feel important. Not due to any logical reasoning, but just because that's how it feels. When I see him, it feels important- it feels like this moment matters.

It isn't the fact that he looks made out of stone, it is the way he holds himself. He was tall, but not as tall as one would think because he towers over everyone. Just not in a physical way. His lips are held loosely shut, with one side increasingly moving upwards. His dark brown hair is adorned by a brass crown. The crown is masculine and harsh. The tips of the crown are formed into spikes with sharp, glistening rubies- the color of blood. I never heard of rubies being popular in Linove. In the middle of the crown is the Linovian crest; a snake wrapped around a fox. The overwhelming declaration of their trickery. The king makes his way up the stairs to the throne. He sits, rigid with power. I thought he would be older. I knew he was young, but he couldn’t have been so far from my age. It surprises me. Malikah tries standing on her toes. I try holding her down. This is not a time to make oneself known. The king, after a deadly minute of silence and staring, stands up. He is going to address the room.

"This is what you bring me? A few Kayon savages? What use do I have for them? Send them away and report back to the war room for further questionings."

I feel myself smile. I hadn't realized it, but I had been holding my breath. I let a quiet sound escape me. Relief. I look down at Malikah and give her a slight smile. She understood what his words meant. We are not going to be slaves. We are going to be left alone. The guards order us to turn around and start guiding us out of the room. We would be sent to the prisons until they found places in homes for us. We would be servants, not slaves in the royal household. It was the best thing we could have hoped for.

"Stop."

Relief had come too soon.

"The boy. Bring him forward." Fuck. 

 I whip around and a guard immediately grabs me. Malikah screams. She is telling them not to take me, but she speaks in Kayonese. She is in distress and couldn't speak the common tongue. I tell her it's okay. She'll be fine. She'll be free. She is crying. I want to hold her forever, to make sure she never feels alone again. But I cannot give that to her. So I just smile at her, and for her sake, I stop resisting. 

 I am shoved before the king and forced to kneel. I welcome the chance to rest my feet. I don't look up at the king. I could not take that chance. I have made too many mistakes in too little time.

"Look. At. Me."

It came out fragmented. Slow and dark. His voice is powerful. I look up. My eyes widen. His eyes are the color of an amethyst. Inhuman, almost. Impossible. His eyes glimmer with confusion and something else. He only lets his emotion show for a second until the cold takes over again. He looks at my chest. The sun. The dried blood. The fresh blood. A wound that hasn't healed. Bruises. Cuts. Everywhere. I am a mess and vulnerable, and everyone in this room can see it. The king can see it. And for a moment, I swear his eyes darken. The shade changes, and it leaves me breathless. 

"To think I almost didn't see you. Were you hiding from me?" There is a slight tone of mockery in his voice. I shake my head because I don't know what else to do. He stares at me for a second before looking back at the women. 

"Guards. I told you to take the whores out of here. Why are they still here? His angry tone causes the guards to scurry into action, and they do as told. The women are silent except for Malikah who is still yelling.

"Shut the girl up."

 "No."

I can't help it. I know what it means to shut up a prisoner. Pleasurable surprise drips from the king's face.

"Oh, how interesting. What could you possibly have to do with her?"

 "She' s-she's just a kid. Let her go."

"I do not think you are in a place to plead for someone else's life."

 "Just-please, let her go. She is innocent. She is-"

"Why should I grant you any favors? Tell me your name. How did you end up here?"

I look back at Malikah. She is being held down by two guards. 

 "Auriel. I was taken prisoner by the Kayonese. I had been fighting in the war." The king still has hints of confusion on his face — confusion or perhaps something else. 

"Why did they not kill you?"

It's a fair question. The Kayons usually killed their prisoners. No one lasted more than a few hours. Unless they were being made into clothes. But still-

"They believed I was a gift from their gods. They-

 "A gift? A Finlurian soldier? What gift would that be?"

I look down. It's true; I am no gift. A gift cannot be a person, let alone someone like me. 

"The golden one. That's what they said. I possess no gifts, if you were wondering. They are a confused and radical people. They-"

The guard standing next to me hits me with the hilt of his sword.

 "You will address the king properly."

I shake it off.

 "If your majesty was wondering."

I say it with emphasis on the title. It comes out sarcastically. The king smirks for a second. I feel myself begin to smile. It felt wrong to smile, but something felt right about this. Something about him feels familiar. He crosses his arms and begins to descend from the dais. I hold my breath. He speaks as he walks. 

"You see, golden one, I know how the Kayonese think. I know their…unrestrained ways. If you were their gift, you have been through some hardships, haven't you?" His voice should seem cold because that's he isn't speaking with any emotion, but it doesn't feel cold. There is something behind the coldness that resembles warmth. For a moment, I just stare at him. His eyes are even darker now. But then I remember the words he had just spoken.

My mouth suddenly becomes parched. My heart slams against my ribs. I feel completely naked. He knew, maybe not exactly, what was doing to me. He knew it would hurt me to relive it. Though I shouldn't be surprised. He was the king of Linove. He was born evil and malicious. He was King Raulyn, the young and cold.

“I am glad to be out of that place.”

"I see. I've heard about the Sunblood ritual. It is definitely-"

his voice catches for a second "-an obscure practice. How long ago was this?"

I think about how bizarre this moment is. It seems impossible. Linove. King Raulyn. This. It's too fast and too much.

 "I don't know. A few days ago. A week?"

His eyes narrow. Now he is standing over me. I am still on my knees. He gestures for me to stand. I feel the tension in the room. It must not be usual for a prisoner to stand before the king.

I slowly stand up. He's still taller than me. But now I can see his eyes and they are...hypnotizing. I wonder if it was a spell. I've heard rumors about appearance magic. But I don't know, they just looked so real. But then I move on from his eyes. I take in his entire face. It isn't- it doesn't seem possible. Every feature seems perfect. I feel something pull in my chest. I wonder if- if…my thoughts trail into nothing. My body is weak, I had known this, but I feel suddenly deathly ill. The room becomes blurry. The last thing I see before the world turns to nothing is the king's eyes turn wild.

* * *

I begin to see blurry shapes. Then I hear mumbles. The world is spinning. I blink. Again. And again. This time I close my eyes tighter. Open. An elderly man is standing over me, attending to me. My wounds. He pays no attention or just doesn't care that I woke up. Dark bags cascade his eyes. His brows are sparse and white. His skin is not so different from old leather. His lips are slightly blued. He is very old. I would guess over ninety. No one in Finlur ever lives that long. The life expectancy is seventy. They say that the magic in Cronad's air that keeps them alive. Some also say that they have outsmarted death, that they are too sly to die. But then again, I don't know who "they" are, so why should I believe them? I've come to realize that everything thing I know about the world is just speculations. No one really knows anything, do they? 

I look down at my neck, where Adam's tag used to be. I touch where the cold metal used to hang. I try to grasp it, but nothing is there. I leave my hand hovering over my chest.

"Have you lost something?"

The broken silence startles me. I try to sit up but I'm pushed back down by the old man. It wasn't the old man who was speaking. It was the king. He stands a few feet away from me with his arms crossed and his chest raised slightly upwards. He has no readable expression on his face. I try sitting up again as being hit with the hilt of a sword for the second time sounded less than ideal for my current state. The king gestures for the ancient man to help me. He does as such. I mumble a thank you to him.

"Your-Your majesty."

Something flickers in his eyes when I speak. It was something unfamiliar to me. He uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards me. I feel a bit of panic and try to sit up straighter. 

"As I said, have you lost something?"

I had forgotten he had asked a question.

 "No. Well, yes."

He raises his eyebrows in amusement. For some reason, I thought he was going to smile. He doesn't. 

"That is not an answer."

 "It was taken from me. I didn't lose it."

I suddenly became defensive. The king hears it.

"It wasn't yours, was it?"

He is too quick, too smart. It is unnerving. I don't answer.

 "What was it?"

 "An army tag."

For some reason, this takes him by surprise. I try to imagine what he's thinking. I lost an army tag that wasn't mine but that I wore. What could that mean? His face looks saddened. Not for me or the lost necklace, but something else. Someone else.   

 I take a moment to scan the room. It seems to be a medical facility. Vials cover the counters. Blood soaked cloth laid everywhere. But to my surprise, the king is here, in this filth. Even more surprising, he has no guards with him. He sees me realize this and lets out a sound that's close to a chuckle. My heart beats faster. 

"I do not believe you will attack me. But if you did, I do not think I would need a guard to protect me from a wounded fawn." 

"Fawn?" It was a surprising thing to be called.

"Yes. A fawn. A young helpless animal." His lips are upturned to an almost smile. I let out a long breath. 

I was not even that much smaller than him. This conversation seemed pointless and juvenile. 

 "Well then, your majesty." I purposefully tilt my head downwards in place of a bow. He ignores this. 

"Why did you wear a name tag that wasn't yours?" It comes out somewhat urgently. Almost as if he knew the answer but needed to ask it anyway. 

Flashes of memory from when Jerodian asked me a similar question causes my heart to beat faster. I felt beads of sweat begin to build at my forehead. 

The king looks out of sorts- as if he was surprised that he asked such a question. He had not meant to ask it. But to take it back would be a sign of weakness, so he just stands there waiting for an answer.

 "It was my friend's tag. He- he died in the war."

 "Which war?"

It was a question I had not been expecting nor prepared for. Which war? Which war!? Something dangerous stirs inside me. The king speaks again.

"This war?" 

 "This war?" I repeat his question. 

His head turns to the side. Confusion. 

 "Is the war not won?"

At this, he looks taken aback. His eyes harden for a second and then soften — the purple shifts to a darker shade. 

"You don't know anything, do you? Oh, poor fawn. Yes, the battle is won. But that is because Finlur has retreated to the Island of Death. Or what's left of them…" He trails off. I know this, did I not? But why would the war still be happening-

"Finlur still has its precious technology. The war is not over until it has all been destroyed. They took as much as they could. So, the battle is won, but the war continues." (Continued)