The Crowned Captive
The Devil's Grip

“I can’t possibly see how we would have anything to discuss. I am duty- and honour-bound to deliver your head before the king, and you are the brown-nosing pet of a psychopath.”

Cordan dared not move, not rise from where he knelt in the grass, not reach for his sword, not attempt to flee. If he moved, even to try and ease the ache in his knees against the hard ground, the psychopath’s pet was likely to relieve his shoulders the weight of his head. At least at that moment, he rather appreciated his head remaining attached.

The vampry laughed, crouching down in front of him. “You talk such a big game for such a pathetic thing. I could have your guts in the grass before you could even think about moving, yet you threaten me? Cute.” A single wisp floated around them now, taunting. Cordan watched it as he spoke.

“So was this another failed ploy to steal away the Princess, yes? I thought the third time, you were going to kill her, not let her waltz back inside to safety.” He watched the wisp carefully, hating that Rowan had been correct in their intentions. Was it really going to relay everything back to Draigh? Or were they just an attempt at louring Morana out of the bounds of the wards? He snorted at that thought, the proof of their fortifications being useless standing in front of him. Would they believe him if he told them? Would his death change their tactics?

“Oh, this was not an attempt to capture her, although if it ended up that way I would have been rather happy. No, I was hoping to catch one of her little play-things in my web. Probably best it was you - I doubt I would have been able to let the other live and then my plan would have been ruined. My bet is on you being the one she follows, anyways.”

Cordan was surprised at that but schooled his face into mild irritation as his opponent assessed him. He saw too much of Rowan’s demeanour there, the predatory stance and the feline grin. The key difference was that Rowan’s grin held the glint of mischief, the light of somebody in it for the game. This creature’s face held only malice, like a spider just wishing to see its prey squirm desperately. Struggling was futile; Cordan was already caught, and any movement would only end in further entrapment. He exhaled heavily through his nose at that, the tension collapsing from his muscles as he sat back and relaxed. If his death wanted to toy with him, it would be quicker not to fight it. Hopefully, Raeth was like Rowan in the fact that prey that didn’t fight simply made him bored.

Quick as an asp, that damned blade flicked from where it pointed at the ground, biting into the skin of his wrist. Cordan could not help but hiss at the sting but did not move further. Raeth merely cocked his head at that, as if his lack of struggling surprised him. Then he leant forward and grabbed his wrist. All Cordan could do was watch, his stomach coiling, as Reath brought his face down to his skin and ran his tongue across the trail of ruby blood, never breaking eye contact. His grin was sickening as he sat back, licking the last of the red smear of blood from his mouth as if it was a taste worth savouring.

I imagined that I would have to enthral you to get anywhere tonight, a voice sounded in Cordan’s head, and despite himself, he jumped. Fucking vampry magic, it was disgusting. The thought of the creature’s fangs in his skin, forcing poison into his veins, utterly repulsed him. Yet the line of red against his skin was quickly fading and he did not feel the drag of his life force being sapped. Why he hadn’t just bitten him, filled Cordan’s mind with his own will then ordered him exactly what to do was a mystery-

“You wound me, Cordan. Why would the Rebellion attempt to use some mindless slave when we can have an intelligent and willing accomplice? You are the smarter between Morana’s play-things, of course,” Raeth teased as he stood once more, a smirk of pure satisfaction upon his face. Cordan could not help but laugh despite the monster sifting through his thoughts.

“You think that I am going to be a ”willing accomplice“? Why on earth would I betray Morana to do that for you?”

“I assume you have some self-preservation remaining, yes? I can call on that little spell etched into your skin at a moment’s notice, little elf, and you’d get to feel how your so-called best friend felt when his life force was used against him. I have tasted your blood, so now I can sift through your brain at a whim and know your every intention. We can converse without anybody knowing, too, or I can sit and torment you. I am quite skilled in sending people insane, you know. And most importantly, if our plan fails, your pretty little princess is dead. If your self-preservation is lacking, I believe your want for her to survive is strong enough to compensate.”

The reality of the situation set in, and Cordan felt his blood chill. That little ball of light seemed to bob mockingly as he glared at the vampry, sifting through the information for some way out, some loophole. The vampry simply grinned like a Cheshire cat as he came up with nothing.

“What do you want me to do?” Cordan forced out through clenched teeth, his anger palpable. He would replace a way out of this mess, some way to keep Morana safe. But that included playing along for now.

“Bide your time, gain her complete trust, and replace a way to get her out. Navigating her little promise not to escape may be tricky, but I trust you will manage it. When you are ready, think with all your itty-bitty might, and I will hear. We will meet at the edge of the forest, and you will be rewarded for your efforts.”

“Oh, is that it? I’ll just do all the work, and you will give me a pat on the back?” Cordan spat.

“Yes! Oh, I am so glad your simple little mind could grasp the concept,” Raeth said with fake glee, then dropped his smile. “My tip would be to get rid of the red-haired irritation. He is a bad influence on her regardless, but will only make it more difficult for you. Using your mate bond would be wise too, if you are willing to acknowledge it.”

Cordan could only blink with surprise and watch as Raeth made his leave. Lazily, taking his time, he sheathed his sword. With his nose upturned in disdain, he brushed the grass and soil from his black trousers and readjusted the collar of his shirt. With a nod, he flicked his hand and the wisp fluttered back into the forest to its master. The vampry looked at Cordan one more time before he left.

“If you ever decide you are no longer fond of this world, do let me know. The taste of your blood is simply too good to waste soaking some battlefield.”

And with that, he left, stalking into the night like he had every right to be there. Cordan let out a shaky breath, surprised he had survived that encounter. The cold settled into his bones then, the adrenaline finally wearing off. Teeth chattering, he surveyed the windows behind him, searching for any sign of the inhabitants watching what had just occurred. With a sigh, he left the gardens. He was damned regardless and had felt altogether too much that evening. He needed a drink, sleep, and to be alone.