The Infernal King | 1 ✓

CHAPTER XVIII | A GREEDY MAN'S SERVANTS

       KING THEODORACIUS'S EYES—lustrous pools of burnt umber richer than the copper-coloured earth—possessed a mischievous glint as they penetrated Maarit's. Within them swirled something dark and nefarious, veiling their surface and preventing anything other than malevolence and frigidity to present itself. It was unclear whether any other emotion had ever lain below, buried in the beautifully abysmal depths of brown.

       The words he spoke sent shuddering chills down her spine and reminded her that she still knew nothing about him and what he was capable of. All she knew was that he was a cold-blooded murderer whose gibbous veins had somehow not yet frozen. He was hardly human anymore—he was a hungry serpent living in the body of a god.

       Maarit swallowed, the muscles in her throat nervously contracting and threatening to strangle her. She straightened her back, attempting to appear stronger than she felt. Her hands clenched together and her fingers entwined with each other.

       "You are bluffing, Your Majesty," she informed him. "What you are saying is nonsense. You barely even know how to place the crown atop your own head—instead, you require your servants to do it for you."

       "Oh, how wonderful that you have finally learned how to properly address a king!" he exclaimed facetiously, his face remaining expressionless. "And I don't think you quite understand me when I say this: I have the entire country of Bonvalet in my hands. With one single word uttered from my mouth, I can begin a war. With a slight of my hand, I can slit your throat or slip poison into your drink."

       Maarit's face burned angrily at the reminder that such a horrid man had so much power over so many people.

       "Is that how you managed to poison your father?" she demanded of him, cocking her head.

       He did not retort, but simply pretended not to hear her as, at last, Picard returned. Beside him was a dark-haired, ebony-skinned man. Once Picard and the other man reached the king, they bowed for him.

       Maarit grew curious as to why the second man was needed when Picard seemed to do just about everything around the castle.

       "Rise," King Theodoracius told them impatiently, almost as though he would prefer if they did not bow for him. "I am quite hungry and would very much like to begin our feast."

       Without the need to be told, Picard immediately conjured two plates out of thin air and sent them towards the table. The plates settled onto it as a feather might have—it was as though they weighed nothing. One nestled itself on top of a much larger plate in front of King Theodoracius. The other did the same in front of Maarit. Then, the goblets and bowls began filling as well.

       Soon, Maarit had before her a plate of boiled lobster, carrots, turnips, rice and cheese tarts, and a steaming bowl of pea soup. The delicious redolence that the assorted foods gave off seemed to seep into Maarit's chest and cradle her lungs delicately. She inhaled and closed her eyes, enjoying the fragrance for a moment.

       Then, horrible memories rushed into her mind, and she was back in the dungeon cell, smelling the same delicious fragrance as hunger made gaping holes in her stomach. She smelled the putrid scent of decomposing flesh and felt the cold stone floor once more. Her eyes flew open and she immediately looked away from the plate in front of her. Waves of queasiness and anxiety washed over her.