The Fae King's Heart

Chapter: Nine

Black eyes watched over the horizon, focusing on the west where the sun had finally taken refuge behind the mountains. It hadn't been too long since the band of travelers had gated away to safety. Luckily enough, he would be able to track them. There was no mistaking it; they were in Beithir. However, they were now tracking elsewhere and their party was one member short. Behind him he could hear the small army gifted to him by Nefarah gathering, his own servants part of them. Looking over a shoulder, he caught sight of the four young dragons held prisoner. They were all the same age; looking as an eight-year-old human child, but Tarith knew that they were much smarter. However, they were just as vulnerable.

From the canopy of the forest he lowered himself to its floor, his eyes looking over the dragons in interest. They were guarded by four of his servants. Two huddled close together in tears, both girls sobbing and crying out for their mother. Another, the only boy of the group was silent, his face stoic. There was no emotion that Tarith could read from him and the boy kept it well hidden. The last one however was the troublemaker. Her body was surrounded by an aura of anger, disgust and hate. All three emotions were guided in his direction and Tarith felt that she would most likely be the one to cause him the most headaches.

"Murderer!", she screamed as he went to turn away, causing him to look back again.

His eyes traveled to the young girl who was busy fighting her restraints and spewing off silent curses. Her eyes shone a gleaming silver and he saw within the girl her father's boldness and stubbornness. That was what made this much more enjoyable.

"May you rot in the deepest caverns of the Hells!", she continued, her eyes narrowing on the dark angel.

He stepped closer to her, watching as she glared up at him and he bent so that he was at eye level with the enraged fledgling.

"I have been to the Hells.", he began in a quiet tone, "And it has no force powerful enough to hold me. And even if there was, I will be pleased; for I would have company with your mother beside me."

"You bastard!"

The offensive name-calling he did not mind, however it was the spittle that came in contact with his face that upset him. His eyes were matching daggers as he glared down at the young girl. If it were up to him, she would have joined her mother. Unfortunately, it was best if they were kept alive. Their father would more easily submit if their lives were in danger. He pushed his anger aside, turning away from her to look back at the other three. It was the boy that grabbed the most of his attention and he moved closer to him, ignoring the warnings of the little wench behind him.

He stopped in front of the boy, a hand lifting his head so that his silver eyes were now locked with his own. He smiled at the resemblance the boy held to his father as well. Only he reminded the Dark Angel of the moment Cien learned of the death of his mate. He could see the stains from tears that had marked the boy's cheeks earlier and he felt a shiver run down his spine as the boy's fear and loss resonated through him.

"What is your name?", he asked, turning the boy's head so as to observe him better.

He didn't answer however, opting to keep silent. Another stubborn child; it made Tarith begin to wonder if Cien had birthed these fledglings on his own. He sighed as another minute passed by and the young dragon gave no answer, so with a scoff he returned to the still fighting female. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her head back to expose her neck. His blade was then drawn and rested against the girl's throat. Satisfaction overtook him as he saw the boy's eyes widen.

"Tell me or she dies."

As the other girls continued to whimper, he watched carefully as Tarith stood in waiting. His silence wasn't broken, even with his sister's life threatened and Tarith knew that he would have to take things a step further. With his patience waning, Tarith began to press the blade of the sword into her throat. It gave the results he was looking for. The sight of blood beginning to slowly travel down his sister's neck urged the boy to break his silence.