DEMON CRY

49.

If the howling winds were to settle, one would be able to see the magnificent fort of Tracovia beckoning them from over the mountains.

Not for the first time, General Raphael wished he was a low ranking soldier who could disappear off to warn the oblivious fort. As he stood among other Generals, he listened carefully as they discussed the map.

Their resources were running out and according to some estimates, would last only for a few more days- but that was not a concern as they could ransack the fort and live on the Tracovian resources for more than a year.

'We attack first thing in the morning,' one of the Generals started. 'We can crush those Dithrai who assassinated our King. We'll make sure they eat dirt. Nothing will be left. 

'Nothing.'

When a chorus went through the burrow, Raphael knew that he would have to act sooner. He listened carefully to the discussion. He didn't have a plan of escape just yet but he knew that he would have to leave.

A disappearance would cause some delay especially because he was a General.

His heart raced violently, doubting his choices- but wasn't it too late to turn back?

When no one was looking, he slipped away- with a compass and a map. 

All the way up North, through the snowy terrains he went on. His trail masked by the wanton wind.

He knew it was too late to turn back.

⋄

Prince Damien jerked awake when something heavy landed on him. He looked down to see woollen blanket over him. Shocked, he tried to school his expression, hiding it behind an impassive mask.

The Queen of Demons loomed over him, with a sickening smile on her face.

'W-why such kindness?' He sneered through his clattering teeth.

She threw her head back and laughed like a  maniac. He glowered at her waiting for a reply.

Her booming laughter died abruptly. If a lesser man had been in her presence, he would've quivered with fear. It didn't faze the Prince. She lowered her face to his so that he could see the madness lurking in her dark eyes. 'I'm very happy today.'

He squeezed his mouth shut, not wanting to humour her.

With a wave of her hand, the chains binding him disappeared- but he didn't move.

'Won't you ask why?'

He suppressed the urge to snicker.

'Have you no shame, you're in the presence of the Queen of the Demons and the Dithrai naked?'

His eyes snapped to hers. There was no way in hell that she could take his mother's place. His parents were too smart for that. He clenched his jaw angrily. 'You're no match for my mother.'

Had Raphael betrayed him?

Fury flashed on her face but it was soon hidden behind a quiet smile. 'I'm feeling kind today so I'll let your insolence slide.'

She clapped her hand and two servants entered.

'What's your will, my Queen?' they bowed in unison.

'Make sure our esteemed guest is cleaned neatly and clothed for lunch.'

'Of course, my Queen.'

Before she could leave, she turned to the Prince. 'Don't insult my hospitality. I won't take it kindly,' she warned.

When she left, the servants approach the Prince. He could sense the fear in their eyes as he rose to his feet. It was difficult, to say the least, but he was not good to throw his pride away by taking the help of the demons before him.

His knees wobbled and a servant approached to help him. He raised his hand defiantly. The servant cowered away as those icy eyes pierced his.

They guided him to the Royal Bath where the Prince was given a warm bath. Under circumstances, he would have enjoyed it. He could take this opportunity to run but he was well aware of the warriors that were stationed outside the bath.

Prince Damien knew his battles.

His mind went back to what Queen Seyanora had said. Queen of Dithrai? There was no way his mother would give her title away to a lesser woman. She must have been playing with him.

It was not unknown to him that the Queen was trying to slip past his guard. All these sudden acts of kindness had to amount to something sinister.

Steam rose from his porcelain skin as he stepped out of the bath. The soreness in his limbs had left him.

The servants arrived and clothed him with comfortable and warm woollen clothes that were fit for a person of his stature.

They guided him through the dark halls to the Dining Hall. The dark dome lurked over them and the single giant chandelier was the only source of the light. The curtains were drawn. Two cushioned chairs, that could be mistaken for thrones, were on either end of a long rectangular mahogany table spanned across the hall. The polished table gleamed in the dim light.

The Queen of Demons was already seated, waiting for him. 

She smiled a wicked smile.

He hid his hatred behind a mask of indifference.

'So glad you could join me, Prince Damien. Please, have a seat.'

He sat at the other end of the table.

The doors opened and various servants carried silver plates in their hands that bore delicacies that were a treat to the eyes of a hungry man- but the Prince was nonplussed by it.

The soup was served first.

He gazed at the clear liquid suspiciously.

'Oh, why aren't you having it?'

He didn't say a word.

'Do you think I've poisoned it?' She giggled.

He was unmoved.

'Very well,' she turned to one of the servants that were standing there, 'Drink the Prince's soup and show him it's not poisoned.'

Without any hesitation, the servant reached for the bowl and swallowed a spoonful of it.

'See,' she smirked, 'I don't mean you any harm.'

All of sudden, the servant clutched his throat as he began to gargle out blood. The thick and gooey liquid pooled around his legs as he continued to choke on his blood.

Prince Damien glared at the Queen with all the hatred he could muster. His eyes didn't acknowledge the dying demon for he knew that he would lose his temper and do something that would allow her to kill him.

'My apologies,' She grinned when the servant slumped down and ceased all movements. She slurped her soup and tilted her head, regarding him, 'You cannot blame me for trying now, can you?'