Chapter 43: The End Of The Georgian Rule

Eliana’s entire body shuts down, her heart bleeding from the betrayal. There is a hole in her chest, nausea building up into her throat.
“Selma,” her voice cracks, dry tears lighting her eyes on fire.
The maid snorts harshly, almost rolling her eyes. She takes a step closer to the two women.
“We must go,” Alma hisses to Eliana, grabbing her arm and pulling. “We need to get out of here.”
The Princess refuses to budge though, her wide gaze still on Selma.
“Did you really hate us that much?” She swallows a second wave of tears.
Curling her lips, the handmaid softly shrugs, “You should not even be alive. Humans and Pivurlions should never be together.”
“Princess,” Alma urges as she notices movement behind the throne, “Let’s go.”
Eliana holds herself together, but only barely. The woman before her, who has raised her from infancy, has never truly loved her. “Why. . .” she clears her throat, “Why pretend?”
Selma huffs, “Like I said before, I had very limited resources to accomplish my goals. When King Krite came to me with an offer though, well I could not pass the opportunity up.”
“Eliana,” Alma almost yells. Her brow is now furrowed and she stands in front of the Princess. “We must go, now.”
This time, she finally gets through to the werecat. Her eyes widen with realization and she nods. As she looks back up at Selma, she also notices the movement behind the throne. A couple of figures begin to stir.
“Where’s my father,” Eliana bites out, her heart pounding. She needs to save her father at the very least. Drein needs him to lead.
Selma chuckles, “If I were you, I would be more worried about myself.”
Eliana is unable to hold down the anger any longer, the emotion exploding through her throat. “Where is he?”
“Eliana, come on.” Alma reaches around the Princess’s waist and tugs on her as hard as she can.
The rebels begin to pour out from the small hatch behind the throne. Eliana remembers playing there when she was a child, hiding from her father. Now the tables have turned, as King Daniel is dragged out into the open. His features are almost unrecognizable. Crimson coats almost every inch of his skin, his legs barely moving. His clothes are not his normal robes, but a tattered tunic. Yet, Eliana is able to tell that this is her father.
A scream catches in her throat and she pulls against Alma, trying to reach the King. A sob tightens her chest as her legs sway under her.
“Alma, don’t,” Eliana pleads. “They’re going to kill us all.”
“We were saving King Daniel until the rest of the soldiers arrived,” Selma explains, “But with you here, we do not need him.”
“No,” Eliana shrieks, her vision clearing and her body beginning shift. Her nails form into claws and her teeth sharpen. Her transformation halts after this, though.
Two men creep up behind them, grabbing a hold of Eliana. She screams and twists around, slashing at the first rebel’s face. He cries out in agony, dropping to the ground while holding his bloody face.
“Alma, go,” Eliana pushes the werebird away, causing her to almost fly across the room.
“Princess, I won’t leave without you!”
“Get out, please,” she begs as the other man grabs a hold of her arm. She reaches around to attack him as well, but he grabs onto her other arm, pinning them to her side.
Alma watches Eliana briefly before shifting her gaze to the King. His body is half limp on the floor, watching as his daughter is forced to her knees. She lashes out, trying to catch any form of flesh to shred.
Eliana turns back to the werebird and hisses, “Go!”
With tears in her eyes and feathers beginning to form along her arms, Alma spins around and bolts from the room.
“Get her,” Selma orders two of the men. They cock their brow at her before following after the werebird.
“You may have gotten us within the castle,” one of the men states, stepping up to the handmaid’s side, “But you are not in charge. I gave you a chance to have your fun, now it is time for business.”
Selma glowers up at the younger, burly man, but quietly steps down.
“She is correct though,” he continues, “Now that we have you, we do not need this useless king.”
Eliana watches in horror as the man reaches over, dagger in hand, and slices through her father’s throat. He heaves, falling to the ground and urging air to go into his lungs. He reaches for his throat, to try and stop the bleeding.
“No!”
The Princess shoves herself forward, ripping away from the man holding her. She pushes off the ground, bounding towards her father.
She does not make it far, though, as two men tackle her to the ground. Her face is slid across the ground, her chest crushed. They pin her arms once more, wrapping her up in a thick rope that rubbed her flesh raw. She seethes, her teeth sharp as she snaps at her captures.
“You cannot hold me. I will rip you to shreds.”
The man laughs, his voice booming throughout the room. “You have no power here any longer. You are no longer Princess. Climont now holds domain over this kingdom.”