A Court of Death || ACOTAR

40

Astryn stared blankly at nothing, eyes glazed over and unseeing as she knelt beside the King's throne on the dais. Her chains were in place as always and she was dressed in little scraps of silk and lace that gave only the barest amount of coverage. She didn't have the wherewithal to notice or care. The King held the chain connected to the faebane collar around her throat. She was vaguely aware of the fact that that chain was just for show. She wouldn't move whether he let go of the chain or not.

Her presence was ornamental for the most part, a little thing for the King to show off. Look what I have, the whole thing screamed, I took the sister of the most powerful High Lord in history! A blast to inspire confidence in his war, as if the fact that he had taken her was a signal to Prythian's weakness.

He pulled her up onto his lap eventually, preening under the envious stares from other males. There was nothing quite as good as having something for others to covet. He idly stroked her smooth, mostly bare skin.

"I don't know how much of you there is left that even cares," he murmured, lips brushing against her ear, "but your brother isn't coming for you. He'd have been here now if he had any intention of negotiating for your safety. Funny how he's leaving you out to dry after you risked your life trying to save him. No one is coming for you."

The words sank into her, but they drifted off into nothing rather quickly with nothing sentimental to latch onto. Her memories, her feelings...those were all safely locked away. It would slip her mind that she even had a brother if the King didn't take such joy in reminding her that brother had abandoned her.

He taunted her with words that meant nothing for a while longer before allowing high ranking Commanders and Generals from his army to approach and make conversation with him. He always kept his hands on her, aware of the envy they watched him with. The King on his throne with his pretty pet. A sight to be envied, truly.

Astryn did not know if it was hours or minutes that passed by before all the light in the room suddenly vanished. A few candles sprung back to life as the doors whooshed open.

The King was barking out orders, but there was no one brave enough to move a muscle to follow those orders as a power that reeked of rot and war filled the room to a near suffocating degree. The source of that power strolled in flanked by two Illyrian warriors. The trio tugged at the walled off portion of Astryn's mind but she didn't move or react as they strolled in, oozing power and control.

"Who are you?" the King demanded, trying to seem more confident than he was. He gripped Astryn's arm so tightly it might bruise. He recognized Illyrians. Cassian and Azriel. The third male though...he did not know who or what he was.

The male's lips tugged up into a cold, unforgiving smirk.

"I'm Death," he answered, "and you, little king, have made some very bad choices lately."

"You're here for her," the King stated the obvious, his grip on Astryn tightening. "Let's bargain then. I'll hand her over if you give me your support in my war."

Death laughed and then strolled right up the steps of the dais.

"You don't bargain with Death," he murmured with false sympathy, "you simply surrender."

"I am a King," he snapped back, and Death grinned widely.

"There is only one King whose crown matters," he purred, low and dangerous, "one King every soul will answer to. I hope you're intelligent enough to know which one of us that is. You're not a King. You're a boy who found a crown and decided to play dress up. Your so-called empire will turn to dust one day, and I will still be standing. You are nothing. You'd do well to remember that." He paused, flicking the crown right off of the King's head. "Now, get your hand off of her, and bring me the daemati you have controlling her mind."

Reluctantly, the King released his grip on Astrhn and Death gathered her up in his arms. The King then nodded to someone, who hurried off and then quickly returned with the daemati occupying Astryn's mind.

In a swift movement, Azriel cut off the daemati's head and Death quickly threw his own power in a shield around Astryn's mind so no one could sneak back in. The guards and army officials closed ranks around the King, keeping him inaccessible. Death would have killed him if he could have, but killing was a limit he couldn't hit in his current state. His power could do other things and was intimidating enough to get this job done, but ending the King would have to be another mission, one he wasn't a part of.

"When your soul comes to my realm," Death began, "I am going to savor every moment of ripping it to shreds, stitching it back together, and then ripping it apart again."

With those parting words and Astryn cradled in his arms, Death walked right back out with Azriel and Cassian by his sides. Death got them all back to Prythian quickly, and Astryn didn't even blinked at the change of circumstances and setting.

Death made swift work of getting the shackles and collar off of her, tossing them away. He put clothes on her next, covering her up as much as he could after everything. He moved her hair out of her face, a deep frown on his face as he held her in his arms, not caring about the fact that Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, Mor, and Amren were all watching.

"Come on," he muttered gently, "I know you're still in there. It's safe to come out now, Astryn. I can't stay for much longer. Please come back out now."

She only stared blankly ahead, not a flicker of recognition or acknowledgement.