The Forsaken King

There he was—sitting on a log right in front of me.

But he no longer wore his helmet. For the first time, I could see his entire face. I could see high cheekbones and hollow cheeks. Could see a prominent brow that made him look subtly displeased. Could see the sharp jawline that made him look even angrier. Thick cords moved down his neck and disappeared under his armor, the black armor with the symbol of the king, the king he betrayed.

He held my gaze for a long minute, and the longer he stared, the angrier he became. “Don’t fuck with me.” His deep voice had a bite, a bite so hard it was like a sword against a shield. “That’s the only warning you’ll receive.”

The arrow was out of his neck, and now a bandage was in its place. The arrow hit its mark, but it didn’t hit him deep enough to fracture his vertebrae. Maybe if he wasn’t so thick with muscle, it would have worked.

And I’d be free right now. “You don’t want to fuck with me either, asshole.”

His eyes remained steady, as if he wasn’t the least bit threatened by that. He rose from the rock and turned away.

“I was right about you, but nobody listened to me.”

He kept walking to his campsite, his cape fluttering at his back.

I took a look around, searching for the other four men he was in league with, but it seemed to be just us. My eyes scanned the area for my bow and sword, but those were probably long gone. After examining my wrists and ankles, I realized I wasn’t restrained.

I could run for it.

Mastodon kneeled by the cold campfire with his back to me, and he seemed to be searching inside a bag.

I had questions, but I’d rather escape instead. As quietly as possible, I got to my hands and knees then pushed myself up to my feet.

“What did I just tell you?”

I turned back in his direction, like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“You can’t outrun me. You can’t fight me. So, just sit your ass down and be quiet.” He straightened then turned back to me, those blue eyes merciless like the times he’d stared at me in the castle.

“Sit my ass down and… Wow.”

He kept up his cold stare.

“Never going to happen.”

He reached for a rope and marched toward me.

“Alright, alright.” I stepped back, refusing to let that abrasive rope tie my wrists together.

He halted but continued to stare.

I swallowed my pride and lowered myself to the dirt.

He returned the rope to his bag and continued whatever he was doing.

“Where are the others?”

Silence.

“Where are you taking me?”

More silence.

“What do you want from me?”

“You’re no longer in your castle, and I’m no longer the servant at your beck and call.” He turned around again, meeting my look. “Now, I’m the one in charge. And you will shut your goddamn mouth, or I’ll force it shut.”

A flush moved down my spine, followed by bumps all over both of my arms. It was a sensation I rarely felt—only had felt once, actually—and that sensation was fear. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t scream for help.

There was nothing I could do.

The other men were dressed in different gear. They wore all black, with no symbols or allegiance to any sovereign. All heavily armored and strong. I’d be lucky if I could take down one, let alone all five of them.

It became clear who the leader was.

Mastodon.

He was running the show, barking out orders, keeping an eye on me but also pretending I didn’t exist at the same time.

I tried to size up each opponent, to glean as much knowledge about them individually as possible, because maybe I could steal a sword or a dagger, slit a throat in the middle of the night. Something.

I took Mastodon’s threat seriously, so when I ran for it, it’d better be the opportune time.

They didn’t have horses, so we proceeded on foot, moving back into the forest and off the main road.

The four men took the lead, while Mastodon stayed behind me.

I felt his stare in my back the entire way, felt that same piercing gaze that had penetrated my flesh in the castle. The four men in front were a bit shorter than him and definitely didn’t compare in size. Mastodon was like a stone castle—and these guys were the stables.

I looked over my shoulder.

“Eyes ahead.”

I looked forward again. “Shouldn’t you be the one in front?”

Silence.

“You’re the one in charge, right?”

“A real leader is always the last one in line. He protects the rear while looking after everyone ahead. You wouldn’t know that—because your father is a piece of shit.”

That made me stop in my tracks. “Excuse me?”

He gave me a hard shove. “Move.”

I stumbled forward and almost fell but caught myself before I went down. “What did my father do to you?”