EMILY CALMLY ACCEPTED that the voice in her head was not an inner voice, but rather a person. A real person who could move her body and control her actions with his intentions.
She'd realized over time that the words she heard in her head were not what commanded her, they were akin to afterthoughts. Thinking out loud.
She would have tried to tell someone, anyone, attempt to share a secret message with them, but she was stopped by three words: Don't tell them.
She realized that what was happening was not so much mind control, but more of a sharing of mind and body. He could hear her thoughts and knew what she was doing at all times. He could see through her eyes and hear through her ears. He could change her desires or implant some of his own. In fact, she would probably be more concerned if she could be. Instead, she felt a dull acceptance that her mind had been taken over by someone else.
What did concern her, was that she could feel small aftershocks. Tiny bits of him - this person. She could tell when he was excited, or when he was angry. She knew when he was bored, or disgusted.
It was what he felt about her that made her afraid. He hated her. He hated her with a passion. He hated all of the Puth.
This concerned her.
The man was mildly amused by their attempts to uncover the secrets of the Weeping, but also irritated. Everything they did irritated him.
He would only take control of her for mundane things like if he wanted to 'see there' or 'know that'. If he wanted her to attend some sub-council meeting or parliament. Or, if he wanted to see what the inside of some other room looked like. Petty, mundane things, Emily told herself.
It concerned her that while her heart would be beating out of her chest with the fear of being caught in compromising positions, he would only have a casual disinterest. If she died? He wouldn't care. It would be inconvenient to find another vessel, but one less Puth in the world was not a bad thing.
It amused him that she had a care for her life. When she would fret over dying he would tease her with how meaningless her death would be. In the grand scheme of things, she shouldn't fret at all.
She hated his superiority complex. He was callous and overbearing. But, he was unquestionably in control of the situation. He was her direct superior. And he had infiltrated the Puth — through her. He was getting everything he wanted and had every right to feel self-satisfied.
She hated him for it.
It was no surprise to Emily when she found herself pulled out of the palace office she worked in with George, to a veranda overlooking a vast plane. They were in a large building; a palace built into a mountain. Emily could see a large village down the mountain, and in the distace, a city lit up against the darkness of night.
A lone horse traveled the path between the village and the palace. Row after row of armed guards lined the palace inner walls, outer walls, the courtyard. Quasar soldiers.
"I see your research is progressing well," he said.
It is, she agreed.
"Yesterday, at least five assassins passed through my room, all instructed to kill me," he said.
And yet you're still here.
He chuckled. "Little Emily, you and your polite research do not understand the nature of this world. I cannot not be here. It would please me greatly if I could simply not be here, to let one of those pretty little assassins have a go at my neck. It would not help matters, they would miss and come back to try again tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets of Kolini
Fantasy"Let me be clear. I never willingly discuss this. And the few people to whom I have had to are as twisted and wretched as I was back then; As blinded by their own light. They cannot see the light from outside. I want no part in this, but it is far...
