Superior

Chapter 8- Consequences

Part 2 "Royals"

   For a long time the people just stare. Then suddenly someone shouts, “So kill it already!”

   Slowly, a few more in the crowd begin to agree with the suggestion. Most of them don’t know what to do with me, though. I’m like nothing they’ve ever seen before. And they sure as hell didn’t see me coming. Some of them will be furious at me. I’ve taken what was supposed to be a normal protocol death order and turned it into a debate. Others, hopefully, will be mature. They’ll take the time to weigh my options. But really, I know there’s no chance for my survival. I’m an abomination.

   “Take her down,” someone shouts, stepping up from the crowd. I suppress a scream of joy as the Royal’s identity becomes clear. It’s Luke.

   Hastily, the Reject moves to untie me. He pulls the noose off my neck and pushes me off the bucket, making sure to steer clear of my deformed wings. I stumble over to Luke and lean into him lightly. His wounds are only beginning to heal over—I don’t want to disturb them.

   “Here,” Luke mumbles, and slides something across the handcuffs, releasing my wrists.  

   “Thank you,” I breathe. My back still feels uncomfortably exposed, and I almost can’t bear the thought of my hair being gone, but leaning against Luke I feel a thousand times better than I did on top of the bucket.

   At least until Marceline starts screaming again.

   “Kill her!” she screeches. “Look what she’s doing! I don’t care if she’s a half breed, it’s still a crime!”

   “Shut it Marceline,” Luke barks. “You know we were never officially engaged.”

   “Wait what?” I ask.

   “If somebody isn’t killed in the next five minutes I’m filing a law suit!” someone screams. A few cheers rise in agreement, and Marceline screams in response.

   Luke lets out a tired grunt. “Never mind all of you. She’s my servant. We’re going home.” Luke tucks me under his arm and plows his way off the stage and through the crowd. I get gabbed at quite a few times, but Luke easily pulls me away. I actually don’t mind the grabbers. It’s the people who back away that bother me. The ones who take a few cautious steps back, like if they get too close they’ll catch a disease. They anger me so much I find myself burying my head against Luke’s chest to save myself from having to look at them.

   Finally, we break through the last of the crowd. Luke stumbles and releases me.

   “God Kylee I’m so sorry—“ he starts, but suddenly his eyes become fixed on something behind me and he stops. “Oh, no.”

   “What?” I ask, but Luke’s already shoving me ahead of him.

   “Run!” He shouts, beginning to limp behind me. I don’t have much time to questions Luke’s sudden fear before someone dressed in a black suit reaches out to grab me. I scream and dodge him, but only a few feet away I find another one approaching.

   “Hurry Kylee! Get to the house!” Luke screams, already lagging behind. One of the men grabs him and begins to pull him backwards, earning a choked cry out of me.

   “Luke!” I screech.

   Luke glares up at me and barks, “Go Kylee! I’ll be okay!”

   Before I can argue any further, one of the men wraps his hand around my mouth and begins to drag me backwards. I scream and bite down. Hard. Almost instantly there is a flood of blood in my mouth, and the man is yanking his hand away from my face. I take advantage of his moment of weakness and go shooting forward up the streets of Piazza Navona.