And, into that silence and sparking, we breathed.
My new life was born.
Twelve
Kajo
I could still feel her lips on my neck. I reached up and touched the spot where she had gently kissed me on our way out the door that morning. I caught her eyes across the room and smiled even wider. She winked back at me.
Commander Sasrin coughed under his breath and my attention was brought back to my task. Sasrin was a Curan leader from the other side of Farian. The soldiers he had left at home while he and many others journeyed to the capital for the Day of Joy had been the ones to respond at a simple moment’s notice when we needed them. When the Bordash had turned on us and I had almost lost my life.
Now, Sasrin looked at me in confusion, brow furrowed, and he gestured with a slight flick of his fingers toward the congregation.
“Bring in the spy,” I said, loud into the room. I tore my eyes away from Daphne. It seemed like I could feel our spark even just through our look. I had never known I could feel this way about a woman. The last week of healing had been one of the most joy-filled and peaceful weeks of my life, even while being the most disastrous of my reign. Rhone was still at large somewhere, many Bordash were leaving the Capital, fearing reprisal from their Curan neighbors, and even others were joining Rhone’s cause to rule once again and subjugate or perpetrate genocide.
I would not let any of this happen. It was quite likely that more people would die; but though Rhone was still strong, his forces had been decimated. Largely due to Sasrin’s reinforcements. Still, a harsh hand needed to fall, and it was about to fall on the neck of this Curan traitor…
Three of my soldiers escorted Galoon up the gold-carpeted pathway in my greeting hall. How could a Curan do this? How could he betray me? What pressure or sway did Rhone hold over him? Surely, it must be something very serious, for why else would he betray his race? Not only his race, but his leader…Galoon had once fought beside me in the Civil War. He had spoken with pride of a day when Farian would be at peace, both Bordash and Curan aligned. I had never sensed hatred from him then, not even for Rhone or King Darrs as they both slaughtered civilians indiscriminately. But, now, as they led him up the lines of waiting citizenry and nobility, I could sense hatred from Galoon. I could see it on his face. I could read it through his mind.
“Galoon,” I said, taking my Curan blade from its sheath at my waist. Its blue glow filled the room, the lights from the suspended chandeliers seeming to suck in and diminish. The traditional forging of Curan swords was the pride of my ancestors. The Bordash had grown past us in technology, but we would always hold the skills in magical blades. They had their own type of telekinesis. I could amplify my own powers through the blade.
With the thought, I slashed it through the air, cutting the carpet at Galoon’s feet, blazing a line that he stopped abruptly behind. His hands were lashed, his eyes bloodshot, his face bruised. His stay in the capital prison had not been pleasant, though I had given strict orders that he be kept alive until I was well enough to deal with him.
Today was that day.
“You were one of my most trusted advisors. I held you close in my ranks, and even closer in my heart. The hearts of the Farian people are bleeding, Galoon. Not just Curan, not just Bordash. But all of us. Why have you done this? Do you have any words to speak in your defense before I give your judgment?”
“I do not.”
I blinked at him, my blade wavered a moment, dropping a few inches from where it pointed straight at his face. “Nothing?” How could he say nothing? How could he not beg for forgiveness? Was he just decided to not give me the pleasure? I attempted to read his mind but was quickly rebuffed by the mere sound of the Farian national anthem being blasted, off-key, by his thoughts.
“Fine. Punishment is immediate death.”
As I said the last words, the guards twisted Galoon’s arms until he was forced to be kneeling in front of me, and then I swung the sword over my head and downward. The blade didn’t even need to touch his neck. The telekinesis power of its swift, shining metal slashed through the skin, sinew, vertebrae, and arteries so cleanly that it slid off his shoulders and splashed to the ground.
The crowd gasped, then muttered approving reverence.
Two of my technicians were immediately sucking up the blood and body parts with waving hands into buckets, then floating them away.
I looked over at Daphne as Sasrin shook my hand.
Her eyes were wide, cheeks tear-stained, lower lip trembling.
“He killed him…”
Her thoughts were so loud when I focused on her that I thought she surely must have said them out loud. I gestured for her to come near me, so I wouldn’t pry into her mind any more. I sheathed the sword as she walked toward me.
“You killed him…” She whispered the words as I took her shaking hands.
“I had to, Daphne. I am the King.”
“The Beast King…”
I knew my eyes flashed as she said the words and the hackles on my neck rose. I heaved a sigh, focusing on her, focusing on her…It was Daphne. My Daphne. My soon-to-be Queen.
“Do you remember, when I was in the hospital, I asked you to be my Queen?”
“I didn’t think you were awake enough for that to be real.” She looked down at our clasped hands, cheeks flushing. I brushed back one of her blonde tendrils of hair and tilted her chin up to look
