DEMON CRY

8.

The book Queen Ravenna had given her contained the governing laws of Dithrai penned by the dead Prince. Amara's hands were trembling when she realized it. She was not new to the tradition but she knew that only the Royal family was supposed to read it. When a Crown Royal was declared, they would pen down their thoughts about the governing laws of the Kingdom. She didn't know why such a tradition existed but she assumed that it was to guide generations of Royals. 

The question was why did the Queen give it to her? She wasn't even supposed to touch these sacred books. She thought of going back to the Queen and returning the book. She got up from her bed to do so but she sat down immediately after. It wouldn't be a bright idea. 

So she did what she was supposed to. She started reading it. 

As days passed, she found herself to grow lonelier. Every day was the same. She taught the girls their lessons, walked in the garden, had her meals with the Royals, read the sacred book, walked in the garden again. That was it. Despite everything, she felt like an outcast. She felt like she wasn't supposed to be there. 

She was lying on her soft bed. The sky outside was black. It was nighttime. She had placed the book carefully on the table before tucking in. The blanket was pulled up to her chest as she snuggled into the fluffy pillow. She was comfortable yet sleep did not visit her. Her wounded psyche wailed. She was moved to tears. She had never felt so alone. The castle was so different from the orphanage. She wasn't close to anyone but that didn't mean she didn't have anyone to talk to. Her tutor was always there. She hadn't heard a word from her since she got the job. 

It hurt her. 

At one point she thought what the use of such a job was; where she was pampered but left alone. 

Her chain of thought was interrupted by a conch. She furrowed her brow, walking toward the balcony to see what caused it. The conch was followed by clanks of metal and heavy footsteps. It was very cold. She pulled a coat over her exposed shoulders and forced her eyes to see in the dark. 

There was a small battalion of warriors marching into the castle. Some of them held torches. 

She was unclear about what it implied. 

She recognized a face. It was the Third-In-Command, Lord Jeremiah. She didn't notice much because the firelight passed his face almost immediately. She swore it was him. It was strange. Why would he lead a battalion inside the castle? 

She thought he was attacking the castle. But through the front gates?

It was then when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her senses told her that someone was in her room, watching her. Slowly, she turned. Her room wasn't that dark. The lamp by the bed was still lit. It didn't provide much light but it was enough. Her room was empty and her door was shut. 

She shook her head. She was imagining things; a side effect of delving too deep into her psyche.  

But she saw it. A masculine figure sat on the far edge of the railing. Her heart raced. She didn't dare to look in that direction again. With calculated steps, she entered her room and bolted the glass door that led to the balcony. Maybe he's what they've been looking for? 

Immediately, she opened the door of her room that led to the corridor. There were a couple of warriors standing. She walked to one of them and told them about had she had seen. She couldn't see her features but the warrior ordered the others to alert Lord Jeremiah. The warrior then instructed Amara to stay close as they entered her room. 

It was empty. The shadow was gone. She felt stupid. The warrior checked her room thoroughly. There was no one. When the warrior walked out of her room, she did too. She refused to believe that there was no one there. Her senses told her otherwise. There was someone there.  

'Amara!' Lord Jeremiah was running her way, 'Are you alright?' He looked at her to see if she was injured. 'She's not hurt.'

It was then that she noticed that the Shalore was there with him too.  The sorceress grabbed her arm roughly, 'We have to go. It's very-'

She was cut off by a very primitive and bloodthirsty growl. Everyone in that hallway froze. A look of fear crossed their faces. Amara was scared; probably more than them. She didn't want to die. Her hands were shivering. Phoebe's grip grew tighter. She pushed Amara behind her and took up a defensive position. 

Sweat ran down Amara's spine. She found it hard to breathe. All the warriors holding their spears in an offensive position, looking around for the creature that was threatening the castle. 

There was another growl. It was louder and seemed like a threat. 

Amara thought she was going to wet herself. Her fear had incapacitated her. She was unable to think. There was nothing in her mind. No escape plan; just the thought that she was going to die. She couldn't even stand properly. She leaned on the wall behind her. Her breath was suffocating. All she could smell was fear; all she could breathe was fear. It was suffocating her. 

Her vision was started to blur. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes. She was going to pass out. 

Her mind couldn't register what happened next. The Shalore's grip loosened and it was gone. Amara's heart raced. What on earth had happened to the Shalore?! 

She felt a hot wave of breath on her forehead. It had an oddly soothing effect on her. Her breath came under her control and her vision cleared. She no longer smelt fear. It no longer suffocated. She felt calm. 

And then she saw 'it'; the masculine figure she had seen sitting in her balcony. 

He looked hideous. Glowering over her was a sharp face. There was a red liquid smeared around his mouth. His face was skewered into a permanent snarl. His jet black hair had twigs stuck in his head. His clothes were soiled and tattered. It looked like the remnants of a suit. He was hunched over her, in a protective stance. 

 It threw her off guard. Why was she so calm around this beast that everyone so afraid of?

Then she looked at his eyes. They were feral, yet so familiar. Her heart raced: Where had she seen it before?

Pale blue, ice-cold eyes flashed. Goosebumps trailed on her arms. The only difference was that whenever she'd seen them, they were guarded. Now, they looked confused, angry and protective.