AISLIN | I

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

TREACHEROUS LAUGHTER reached the ears of His Majesty the King, echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon that had been his home for the last three weeks.

He was dangerously weak.

Time had become irrelevant; the days and nights blended. He was dangling from his swollen wrists, which were wrapped in thick cotton rope. His torso was splattered with bruises. The purple discoloration bled together and ran like paint up and down his body. During the three weeks of abuse, his face had taken a lot of damage. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip was bloody and dry, and his nose was broken. His face as a whole was so swollen it was almost beyond recognition.

He spent these trying nights by himself, drowning in his sobs. He longed to see his wife, his children, and, most of all, Aislin.

When that man told him the news, he couldn't believe it. It was unfathomable to him. He would have known. June would have told him, and despite their differences, they would have dealt with it... together.

He took a deep breath and braced himself to face the person whose laughter sent shivers down his spine. He despised being down here in this dimly lit basement. He wished to return home.

The clicking of familiar heels echoed through the basement, but it wasn't that that drew his attention. The sound of the second pair of footsteps made him even more concerned.

It was always the same two people who came to see him. There was only the scar-faced man who wore heeled boots and the long blonde-haired woman. He was curious as to who they had brought to inflict pain on him this time. Despite the physical discomfort, he knew he had to survive. He would have to be strong and not give up if he wanted to see his family again. Physical pain no longer had any meaning for him. He'd become numb to it. It was the mental anguish of being away from home that hurt the most. He'd take all the physical abuse in the world to be able to see his family again.

Their footsteps ceased in front of him. He struggled to open his one good eye, but when he did, his entire body was paralyzed by shock.

The two of them stood before him. One was the blonde woman. Her gown was pure black, as black as night, and hugged her slim figure before flaring out just below her hips. The sleeves, though slightly puffed at the shoulder, were long and loose around and below her arms and slit down the front once they passed her deltoids. The neckline sat lower than was proper for Kavan, but perhaps it was acceptable where they were now.

Her pale green-blue eyes held a mischievous glint. She stood tall and full of confidence. She was smirking, and it was clear why.

The man next to her looked at the king with disappointment and fake pity. His ebony skin glistened in the candlelight. He didn't appear to have the nerve to wear his royal uniform, but his clothes screamed royalty regardless.

His inky jacket matched the shade of his companion's gown. Gold epaulets with short chains serving as tassels decorated each shoulder and a faded gold chain were strung from his left shoulder to the middle button on his front. Gold embroidered rows of gold buttons ran down both sides of the front of the jacket. A black breast piece ornamented with gold embroidered straps was strung between the two rows of buttons, filling the gap. The white collar of a shirt and a ruffled neckerchief peeked out from behind the breast piece. Gold embroidery, identical to the rows on the jacket, ran down the side of his legs and disappeared into his black leather boots.

The King felt his eyes tear up and the world around him seemed to sink away as he looked into the eyes of a face he had seen every day for the last twenty-seven years.

He barely heard himself mutter his name, "Koa."

He shook his head and advanced towards him, "Hello, father." Koa spits out the title father out like it was poison on his tongue.