Dark Queen

xxvii.

     Zora had been fine, honestly, up until that night. She and Jurauk had decided to camp out in an alley by the side of a bakery. He's gone off in search of a corpse to feed from, after casting her an apologetic look. Zora had waved her hand, too distracted with the pounding in her head. The dark swirls on her arm was throbbing too, although she was positive she hadn't broken the contract.

     So, there she was, huddled against the wall, her eyes shut as she frantically rubbed her temples. Everything was cold, and she couldn't lie down as a surge of dizziness would crash into her. Her mind sluggish, she tried to replay the earlier events of the day. She'd told Jurauk her plans for assassinating Gregori, eaten a burrito stolen from a caravan, and then what?

     Another wave of agony crashed against the inside of her skull, an unrelenting sea crashing against the bases of rocky cliffs. She curled up, trying to get comfortable on the grimy dirt.

     The other occupants in the alley cast her wary looks. Children wearing threadbare clothes huddled close to their mothers. There was a throbbing in Zora's chest. Her hand flew to her sternum, and she gasped.

     You want to tear them apart, limb from limb.

     She shrieked, covering her ears, sending the other people scattering. "What?"

     It breathed against her ear. Your brother's neck in your hands. You can snap his spine! Watch the blood gush from his mouth all over your hands. It's warm, and simply delicious.

     Zora looked around wildly for Jurauk, but he had yet to return. "Get out," she muttered. "Get out."

     Why? the voice said, multiplying into more voices until a chorus sang in her head. We like it here. Let us stay, little princess. As long as you feed us the hearts of children, we won't cause trouble. Their hearts are the best fresh, when they're ripped from their ribcages, still beating and pumping blood.

      Tears ran rivers down her face as she clutched her head, moaning. "What are you? Who are you? Why are you here?" Zora bit her tongue so hard, the taste of copper flooded her mouth.

      Just a bite, my sweet dear. A little taste won't hurt now, would it?

     Stars blanketed Zora's sight. Blood roared in her ears. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't do anything but listen to the awful rasping in her head, unsure if it were her own conscience. Whimpering, she reverted into her four-year-old self, helpless against her mother's cherry red fingernails.

     You could rip those nails off, suggested the whispers as they cackled with glee. Gouge out your mother's eye to repent for yours.

     "Stop it!" she screamed, squeezing her eye shut. The darkness crawled closer...and dissipated with the frantic pounding of feet.

     "Zora!" Knees splashed in the mud, and arms engulfed her. The pain was subsiding as she pressed her cheek into a warm chest. There was a pause, and then Jurauk held her at arm's length, concern etched into every line on his face. His eyes roved her body, searching for any wounds, and he sighed with relief upon finding none.

     "Sorry," she whispered. Jurauk ran his fingers through his messy red hair.

     "Stars above, you scared the living cosmos out of me. I thought you were getting torn apart from the way you screamed."

     Zora laughed weakly. "Good thing I wasn't. It was just...a nightmare." She refrained from mentioning the voices. What would he think of her if she told him her dark thoughts?

     Jurauk plopped down beside her. "Go back to sleep," he said gently. "We have a loooong day tomorrow. Our plan's in place; now all we have to do is execute it."

     Zora's eyelid drooped. The voices had taken all her energy. In mere minutes, she found herself dozing off.

     When she awoke the next morning, she found that her head had been propped up against her bundle of supplies. Disoriented, she sat up, rubbing away the sleep. A hunk of bread plunked into her lap. Jurauk stood over her with a wolfish grin. She took note of the dried blood dotting his collar.

     "You can eat while we walk. C'mon, let's go."

    
     The coronation was being held right inside the throne room. The guards had opened the doors to the palace so that those who attended that were outside could still witness it. Trumpeters lined the walls, brass lifted to their lips. In between stood guards at the ready with hands poised for the swords at their hips should any misfortune befall the coronation. Not that they'd do any good, Zora reminded herself.

     "Our best bet is Pyter," she murmured as they shuffled closer to the doors. "He should be in the back preparing with Gregori. I've known him for so long; he's bound to attempt something today."

     "Your brother? Can we trust him?"

     "Yes. With my life. Let's go."

     The guards were too busy reigning in the crowd to notice the pair dart out of the room and into the adjacent hallway. Zora motioned for Jurauk to follow her and squeezed into a shadowy alcove hidden behind a velvet curtain as footfalls sounded. There was little space, and she found herself pressed against him, the top of her head just brushing his chin. The warmth from his chest seeped into her back through her shirt, and she tried to calm her heart.

     When he tried to protest, she held a finger to her lips. In the dim firelight, his amber eyes glowing eerily, piercing through her. Zora turned her attention back to the newcomers. As they drew closer, she began to make out words.

     "I wish dear Father were still alive to see me." Gregori's nasally voice floated by, and Zora resisted the urge to dart out and strangle him.

     "Yes. So do I," replied a deep, hollow voice. Zora peeked out from behind the curtain. Gregori was strolling down the hall, guards on either side of him. He had grown taller, and she had a feeling the confidence he had with his hand on his sword was not false.

     Pyter trailed behind him, gaze cast down. His brassy hair had grown out and was tied back in a short tail that curled over his shoulder. But he walked with less than half the confidence Gregori had. His face was gaunt and pale, as if he hadn't been eating well for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes, and he looked so, so tired.

     Zora trembled, her every fiber aching for her brother's distress. She held her breath as they passed. Pyter walked with his hands clasped behind his back in an elegant gesture.

     Three fingers stuck out. Then two. And when it was just his index finger, the world exploded into steel, arrows, and screams.

omgg i finally got around to writing this chapter! fear not, i have not given up on this story. christmas break is almost here, so i'll definitely be writing more! anyways, i can't believe how much this story has grown while i've been busy (like, 20K views since the last chapter???). this is insane. i love you guys so, so much!

Dicussion Questions: Do the voices in Zora's head hold any significance, and how will they affect her? What do you think Pyter has in store?