Lykalis has a new obsession: a bewitching man carrying secrets stained in blood. But is he worth less than the safety of her kingdom? Or is he worth more than she could ever imagine?
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The King...
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A Plague of Plagiarism
SHE was being poisoned.
Lykalis was sure of it.
It was wound deep in her blood, knotting around her veins and cutting the warmth from her arms, removing the feeling in her wings. It deviated from everything she found congruous, and Lykalis despised it. There was a rift in the center of her chest, one that scraped uncomfortably against the walls of her heart, abrasive and bleeding.
A thousand eyes followed her, trailing after her wings, her shadows, her face.
Kolteans were a rarity in Sidiem, immigrants scattered across the capital and speckled within the countryside. Those who left their origins often had an absence of limbs, whether it be their wings or their tails. The broad and tenebrous feathers clinging to her back did nothing to draw their eyes away.
It was only Luciano's presence that halted their abhorrence.
Yet the source of her poison was not from without, but from within. It was an ache that debilitated her propensity, crawling under her skin like fire ants confiscating the flesh on the vestiges of an animal.
Lykalis could not understand why, or where the feeling had arisen.
It was simply there now, and she could not do much to combat the sempiternal sensation that stirred the walls of her lungs. The pain did not overwhelm her, nor did agony cascade upon her hastily. It sank within–as if it always existed beyond her sight.
She could tangibly feel it now; the weight of something.
Surely, this was not just the feelings which accompanied grieving. She may have dug a grave deep within her gut, burying the presence of anger, shock and heart-wrenching disbelief, but that couldn't be all, could it?
The only explanation that would serve as a viable replacement was the sudden change in atmosphere, the soft breeze of Spring carrying the perfume scent of delicate lilacs soaked in the essence of maple. The air in which she breathed no longer carried the familiar scent of pinewood.
It was a rudimentary solution, but it was pleasant to her ears, so Lykalis found her culprit with ease.
"Do you trust your General?"
Lykalis let her thoughts fade, making room for a conversation which was controversial to her friend. She drew her gaze away from the dirt road, a few pebbles clattering against each other as she took another step.
