Page 5 of The Stolen Throne
I can't breathe, my lungs refusing to inhale. The new King of Arcelia smiles down at me with his hypnotic, mirrored eyes. “You are my prize. The precious Snowflake of Arcelia. Mine to put in a globe and shake as I please.” He runs his thumb over my lips leaving some of my mother’s blood behind. “I’ll enjoy making your dance atop my miniature tower.”
Fear, pain, and loss twist inside my broken heart, quickly morphing into anger. “At least you admit that it's miniature—” I hiss as I slap him across the face. He doesn't even move to avoid the impact, but then my arms are wrenched behind my back. “A little frost bite isn't going to hurt me, Princess.”
Something feels wrong with my legs. I begin to panic when what feels like giant worms slither up my legs, gripping my calves under my dress. I'm forced to my knees, and the way they slowly creep up my bare legs makes me feel somewhere between being tickled and being violated.
I want to laugh, cry, something! My knees crunch against broken glass, cutting through my dress and slicing my skin. I know I'm bleeding, so I look down to check, only to take in what’s happening.
Where Balor's shadows obscure the light; the shattered mirror shards reflect his dark countenance and exude black tendrils that begin to form larger tentacles. Black smoke shifts into liquefied-glass state, reflecting me obscenely upon their surfaces before moving to restrain my arms and slide beneath my dress.
When I look up, cold, reflective eyes are peering down at me. His smile widens as he slides the smooth side of his blade across my jaw and down the center of my chest. He smears my mother’s blood across my skin only to stop at the neckline of my dress. I see him tremble with excitement, and it makes my stomach twist. “I do hope you bleed as beautifully as your mother did. I wonder if your screams will be as delightful.”
I let out a screech as he drags the knife down the center of my dress, parting it to reveal my undergarments, and I stare down in horror at the tentacles of mirrored glass that wrap around my waist. I want to cover myself, but my hands are restrained, so I'm forced to watch the tentacles push up under my bra. I try not to make a sound, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, but I can't help my squeal of surprise when my bra is ripped apart.
I close my eyes, feeling the tentacles wrap around my breasts. They squeeze, and I feel something I’ve never felt before: a pressure growing just below my stomach. It doesn’t feel bad, and that terrifies me.
Balor steps closer to me, the smell of iron overwhelming. He runs the tip of the knife down my chest to my abdomen, stopping just above that strange sensation.
“Are you going to kill me?” I whisper.
“Why would I kill a prize like you? No.” He drags the knife back up to my breast before saying, “I’m going to have my fun with you.” He presses the tip of the blade into my nipple just hard enough to be uncomfortable but without drawing blood.
“Scream for me.”
He digs the knife in further, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood as I attempt to keep the scream inside. He laughs and removes the knife. “Still have some fight left in you, I see. Good, you will be fun to break.”
When the pain subsides, I glare up at him. “Never!”
He licks my blood from his knife and grins. “Never say never, Little Snowflake. You will break, just like your mother did, all you need is time.”
“I’ll die before I let you break me,” I sneer.
He shrugs and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “You will break either mentally or physically. It matters not which it is.” He gives me a wicked wink. “I do hope you last long enough for me to give you to my son, though.”
With a gesture, Balor commands his tentacles to move. I squirm as they lift me off the ground, a single tendril sliding under what remains of my undergarments with a soft snap. Then I am left naked several feet in the air.
I look down and see a wriggling pile of tentacles on the ground, a hundred reflections of my body made into something monstrous. It moves forward, randomly grabbing at the ground to pull it, and me, toward the doors of the chapel. The tentacles clutching my body tighten with every little movement, the ones on my breasts sliding over my nipples.
Don't feel it, I think, don't make a sound. I try to focus on anything besides the tingles of sensation traveling down my body. How can he say such cruel things? Treat me like an object, a toy to give his son after he does… what? What is he going to do to me? Why do my legs feel cold… and wet?
Balor stares at the giant double doors, continuing his villainous monologue without even turning to look at me. “Yes, my son will appreciate you as much as I will, especially after I've trained you to be a good bride for him.” He twists his hand in a gesture, and the tips of the tentacles holding my hips move further between my legs.
I cry out as they vibrate against a part of me I never thought about. The sensation makes my brain burn, an explosion that makes everything fade away for just a moment. When the world comes back into focus, my stomach twists at the sound of Balor's laughter.
“That won't be too hard to accomplish.”
Tears run down my cheeks, and I keep my gaze pointed on the floor. I barely register the horror that crawls out of the pile of tentacles below me as skeleton arms rip their way free from the mass, a skull made of glass silently screaming as it fights its way out. The shape is hard to see through my puffy eyes from sobbing, but when something sharp like needles scratches my feet, I turn my focus on it.
I recognize the crystalline copy of a bear pelt covering the skeleton's back. The fur is made from thin glass needles, and I cannot lift my legs to keep them from poking my toes. I remember seeing a man like this once, a huntsman who was hired to travel with my father.
Giant bone fingers seem to reach for Balor, only to move past him and grip the doors. They are ripped apart in a frenzy that causes the skeletal huntsman to shatter. The new king walks to the chapel, me following behind against my will.
When I manage to peer through the wide-open doors leading out of the chapel, I let out a gasp. The once luscious lands of rolling green grass and colorful flowers are now a monochromatic wasteland. My kingdom… My family… Gone… All in a matter of minutes.
“I do hope you love the change of scenery,” he taunts with a laugh. After walking down the steps, Balor stops. Something else begins to take shape from within the mass of tentacles, something not as horrifying. The shape of a woman rises, and I can’t help but gasp at her beauty.
Her face, crafted in mirrored skin, looks at me with sadness. Her body is stretched, seeming to melt endlessly back into the wriggling pile beneath me. She moves around me, removing the tentacles that hold me.
Yet I do not fall, my restrained arms shifting from behind me. The strange mirror-woman holds my hands, manipulating my arms to stretch out, as her body curves into a seated position. There I sit, on display, staring down at what remains of my people.