Chapter 38: A Bargain is Made

Ishild watched the life leave her husband’s eyes before turning to look at the others in the room. They all stared at her, eyes wide. The princes had stopped struggling against their bonds, instead, staring at the lifeless body of their father. Two of their wives had fainted, sagging against the black magic that held them upright. Gwendolyn glared at Kingsley who looked blankly at her, his own eyes swirling with blackness.
“Now,” Ishild said quietly, commanding their attention. “Let us get back to the matter at hand.” She swept her arm out dramatically, her long sleeves brushing the ground. She settled into her seat next to the dead king. His lifeless arm leaned on her chair. She pushed it away with a snort of disgust.
“Now that the king is dead, the throne will go to the next in line. Unfortunately, I want my own son there. Sorry boys, no hard feelings of course, but you are just in the way. Kingsley, will you do the honor?” her voice was soft as she commanded the death of the princes.
“Yes, mother,” Kingsley replied quietly as his eyes grew darker until they were bottomless voids of black. He raised his hands and as he did, the princes and their wives rose in the air. Saffron huddled close to Elric, who was backing them slowly from the room, out of the reach of the corrupted prince.
The wives who had fainted from the gore were now awoken as their feet dangled in the air. They began screaming and writhing against the magic, but it was to no avail. The princes cried out as well, helpless against the darkness. Kingsley’s mouth was twisted in a grimace as he muttered underneath his breath, an incantation in a language so ancient only the gods knew what was said.
They pleaded for their lives as they continued to rise higher above the room. Kingsley’s face was now emotionless as he stared at three of his older brothers, begging to be released. For a moment, his black eyes gazed up at the group hovering in the air. With a small flick of his wrist, the magic wrenched the princes and their wives in half, their blood painting the ceiling a vivid red. Only August and Gwendolyn were spared; Kingsley had thrown them to the other side of the room.
Ishild hadn’t noticed. Instead, she smiled as the blood began raining down and splattering her pale skin with flecks of red. She lifted her head as it continued to fall, a serene smile on her face. Elric pushed Saffron harder towards the exit. She slipped on the blood-slicked floor and he grabbed her, trying to break her fall.
“It is rude to leave before being excused,” Ishild’s voice floated towards them and the door to the room slammed shut in front of them. They skidded to a stop. Saffron’s heart was in her throat as she turned to face the queen. Ishild crooked a finger at them and against their will, they were dragged forward until within arm’s reach of her pallid face. The stench of sulfur was nearly overwhelming this close to her. Saffron was awed at the power that emanated from the queen. She knew that to gain that much power, a large sacrifice had to have been made.
Ishild cocked her head to the side studying Saffron. “You are an unusual creature, Mender from Gilramore. I can see why my son has become infatuated with you.” Saffron’s eyes cut to Kingsley who stood near his mother, his face carefully blank. “You kept the prince’s secret but why? You are not yet married. I smell his scent on you…that must be it. You could perhaps be useful. Until then, however, I have other matters to attend to. Kingsley? Lock the girl in the dungeon until I make up my mind.”
Kingsley silently walked forward and began weaving his magic again. “No need. I can walk,” Saffron snapped and gave one long look to Elric, her eyes telling him how much he meant to her. He managed a smile and nodded.
Kingsley gripped her elbow and propelled her forward. Saffron left the room, trembling from fear and anger.
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Elric watched Saffron leave, his rage boiling up his throat. He turned back to Ishild, a snarl on his lips. Scales snaked down his arms and his wings emerged from his back, shredding his shirt to rags. Ishild’s hand clamped on his throat and he froze, unable to move. Confused, he willed his dragon to come forward, but it was caged. It roared inside of him.
His worried eyes met Ishild’s black ones. She shook her head from side to side with a smile on her face. “No, we cannot have you shifting at will, now can we? That would not fit into what I have planned. No, you will learn to be a good beasty and I promise not to hurt the girl…. too badly. You do what I ask? She will go free. And you, you will be my pet. If not, I kill the girl in front of you and you will be my slave.”
“What do you say, Prince Elric?” Her other hand traced the scales that lined his cheeks. He fought the urge to recoil from her cold fingertips. His mind went to Saffron. He didn’t believe that Ishild would leave her alive, but he had to do what he could to save her. With a sigh, he nodded his head once.
“Lovely,” she hissed and removed her hand. She lifted his chin with her fingers and gazed into his eyes. “This will only hurt a bit,” she said and leaned in as if to kiss him. Her lips stopped before his and she blew a thick, dark smoke into his mouth.
He cried out in anguish as his body was wracked with fire. He fell to his knees as he felt his dragon form being forced to the surface. His skin split and bled as the rest of the scales surfaced. Elric threw his head back and screamed as fire ripped from his throat. His sides heaving, he stood in front of Ishild, a dragon.
“Come, pet,” she said and settled herself onto her throne of blood.