25 Poison

Her mind temporarily went blank, and a pair of hands quickly reached out for her to steady her.

Another pang of pain hit, and it took everything for Daphne to stifle a scream. Her fingernails dug into the cushiony bed as she fought back tears.

"What poison did he feed me?" When the pain subsided, she recollected herself, unfolding her body from the fetal position the pain had forced her into.

He didn't respond, and she looked down to see her hands still gripping his. Only then did she realize that she had been clawing away at the Northern King's hand instead of tearing at the sheets as she thought she had been. Ten little crescent-shaped marks were left behind as she pushed herself from the bed.

"What poison is this?" She asked again, but his eyes were dodgy.

"You don't know, do you?"

Her voice faded, and she was struck by the newfound realization that the jabbing pain from today would become her companion from today forward. That is, if she could last past today.

"I'll find the cure." He promised, but Daphne did not trust him. "Even if you die someday, it will only be because of me."

He swept a strand of loose hair from her forehead and tucked it back behind her ears.

"Your life has been signed away to me, so unless I say that you can die, you won't be able to die."

His eyes burned with determination.

"The scoundrel will open his mouth soon enough."

"The captured assassin?"

He nodded.

But Daphne was not as sure. These men were more than willing to die for their cause, and she doubted that he would be in the mood to produce an antidote.

"Where is he right now?"

"That is none of your concern."

"I wish to see him," Daphne stated matter of factly, her voice not even wavering a little bit.

If she could see the failed assassin, perhaps she could forge an alliance with him. After all, while the younger boy had been clueless, as the leader of the pack, this man would be sure to realize the value of her offer. He would surely immediately see how she was a promising asset to take the Northern King's life.

Speaking of the devil, the Northern King's touch shook Daphne back to her senses.

His fingertips slowly crept toward hers, patting the back of her hands as if trying to comfort her.

"I will find the cure, even if that means I have to tear him limb by limb."

"Your Majesty, don't lie now, you were planning on doing that from the beginning." She retorted, fully aware of the pain and torture he had once put Akira through. This man delighted in seeing others in pain, and she reminded herself once more to not be lost in his temporary kindness. She would not be in this miserable condition if not for the actions he had chosen. "Let me speak to him. If your torture tactics have not pried open his mouth yet, perhaps I can see if I can talk some sense into him."

Furrowing his brows, the Northern King searched for a rebuttal but found none.

"Just don't regret it. The dungeons are not a place meant for a princess."

-----

After hearing of her proposal, without much of another word, he had put a blindfold on her and carried her away in his arms.

Daphne hadn't expected the Northern King to take her directly to the dungeons instead of leading the prisoner to her.

The rest was given only to darkness, and the soft blindfold completely shielded light from her view.

She had heard of rumors of the dungeons's existence, but no one had ever made out of here alive to tell the true tale. Some people had said it was designed to look like hell itself, and others claimed that it was a black pit of misery, with echoes of pain and suffering bouncing off the walls.

She wanted to sneak a glance to see what path they were taking and to see where the entrance to hell was, but from her position, loosening her grip from the Northern King's neck would surely guarantee her fall to the ground.

She soon realized that her concerns were unfounded. She didn't need her eyes to know when she entered the dungeons. Immediately, it was as if a chill enveloped her, the coldness burrowing deep into her very bones. It felt as if there was a crowd of lost souls surrounding her, the weight of their unspoken words crushing her.

"Please! I beg of you! Spare me! Please!" Bloodcurdling screams of agony were the silent darkness's only melody, and the sheer fright in the voices alone told a take of eternal suffering. The blindfold the Northern King had forced over her eyes only accentuated the fear as every single one of Daphne's hairs stood on edge. The screams came from every direction, amplifying as they ricocheted off the walls.

With each cold gust of wind that blew, with every wailing prisoner, and with every step the Northern King took, she could feel her heart racing ever faster and her breathing becoming even more difficult.

For a split second, she wanted to break free of the Northern King's hands and to run away as far as she could.

But although she was scared, she willed herself to not cling to the Northern King tighter than need be. His steps were steady as they descended, and she could feel his rippling muscles flex as he took every step.

After a seeming eternity, he set her down.

Then moment he took off the blindfold, she only wished that it had stayed on.