The Imperial Kings

SABINA

The men dragged me away from Aboloft and down a corridor. There were six of them in total: two in the front, two at the back, and two on either side of me.

All of them were staring straight ahead, but I knew if I made any attempt to run away, they wouldn’t hesitate to slice me up with their swords.

They had clear orders from the king, and no one would be stupid enough to defy Aboloft.

So, we kept walking. The men took me through the corridor, then down a spiral case, which had me feeling dizzy. The stairs were so steep, I had to walk carefully, afraid that I would fall to my death.

There were torches fixed on the walls, and as we were coming down, a woman wearing a ragged dress was lighting up the torches with a candle that was half-melted.

The sight of fire had anxiety spiking in me, but I tried to calm myself. I did not want anyone to know how the sight of fire affected me. One by one, the torches flared to life, indicating the setting of the sun.

How long has it been since we’ve been here? The sun was still out when they brought us here. It can’t set so soon.

My question was answered the lower we went. It was getting darker with every step, and my heartbeat quickened.

Just how deep were the dungeons? How far did these stairs lead? Did they ever end? Was there any light in the dungeons, or were the dungeons just a big pool of darkness?

I almost tripped when the stairs ended, because I still thought we were walking down the stairs, and the utter darkness made it impossible to see.

Surprisingly, one of the men caught me, steadying me. The act of kindness was so unexpected that tears pricked my eyes.

“Thank you so much,” I said softly.

The man didn’t reply. Instead, we all resumed walking, but after taking a few steps, we all stopped once again.

The guard standing at the front left snapped once before torches flared to life, casting a soft glow in the midst of total darkness.

Once there was some light, the guards resumed walking, leaving me no choice but to walk with them. I shivered and held my dress tightly against me.

The shawl given to me earlier made it difficult for me to hold my dress. It was freezing, and I was starting to think maybe this was my punishment.

Maybe Aboloft planned to leave me here so I would freeze to death. No one would care if I died. The whole Kingdom of Quopia would rejoice. People would dance on my grave.

As we continued forward, the temperature only dropped. I was in awe of the structure of this palace. There were different temperatures in different areas, and I knew the king’s chamber would have the perfect temperature.

He wouldn’t shiver from the cold or sweat from the heat. He would just sleep comfortably. I wish I could have some warmth right now.

The cold was now seeping into my skin, attacking my bones. The shawl did little to protect me, now acting like a flimsy piece of cloth and not like a shawl.

My heart jumped to my throat when I heard the sound of metal clashing against the wall. It was the sound of a cell door closing, and that sound reverberated in my heart, sending every cell in my body into panic.

And when I heard the screams of women, I bit my lip to suppress my own cry of fear. I had no idea what was happening to those women, but I knew it was horrific.

But we kept walking, the guards around me, not paying attention to the sobs and whimpers that echoed inside the dungeon walls.

When the heart-wrenching sounds faded away, we turned a corner, and it felt like I had stepped into a totally different part of the castle.

Not because there was anything different, but there was silence, something I did not hear just a moment ago.

Silence so thick and palpable you could slash it with a knife. And this kind of silence terrified me. This silence was bad. It promised bad luck.

The guard on my right stepped forward and stopped in front of a wall. It was only when I heard the sound of the lock turning that I realized he was standing in front of a door.

It was dark here—the darkness as thick as the silence. There was only one torch burning, and it did little to improve my vision.

“Go inside,” the guard ordered, his deep voice taking me by surprise. The faint glow showed the guard standing next to the open door, waiting for me to get inside.

Biting my lip as hard as I could to prevent myself from crying, I shuffled inside. The door shut with a loud bang, caging me in blackness.

I could not see anything. The darkness was so thick I could feel it hurting my eyes, the silence so deafening, I felt like screaming just to create some noise. I would go insane there.

With silence and shadow as my companions, I would soon lose my mind, and then my soul would follow. I would die in this room, and no one would care. No one would cry or say that she was a good person, no one.

People would celebrate my demise. Maybe my death would be a day of happiness for the kingdom, and they would celebrate my death anniversary every year.

“Oh please, somebody help me,” I muttered to myself before dropping down on the cold, hard floor.

I wrapped the shawl tighter around me, finally allowing the front of my ripped dress to fall, but the cold penetrated, breaching the barriers until it settled deep within my soul.

A sudden jolt of exhaustion hit me after a while. I had no idea how long I had been there, but I was tired, and all my eyes wanted to do was close.

I tried to keep my eyes open, but in the end, exhaustion won out, and I fell further into the darkness.

It smelled weird. What was that smell? It smelled like something was…burning. I opened my eyes to see smoke wafting into my room through the cracks of my bedroom door.

Jolting out of bed, I grabbed the glass of water that was lying on my nightstand and proceeded to put out the fire.

But when I opened the door, the glass of water fell and shattered. I saw the fire surrounding me.

I screamed and tried to look for a way out, but the fire continued onward, licking the walls of my room, and soon I was surrounded by fire.

Tears fell, screams erupted, but no one helped. I cried out for my father, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Where was my father?

Then I heard him, but so did the others.

“Burn! Die! Witch!” I heard the voices of the townspeople as the fire devoured my house. But in those voices, I recognized a distinct voice, a voice that should be begging people for help, and not supporting them.

My father.

Pain and disbelief shattered my heart as I heard my father supporting the townspeople, echoing their desires for my death. But I was desperate, and the fire was licking my back, so I called out for help.

“Help! Somebody help me!” I screamed, coughing in between due to the smoke slithering in my lungs.

“Die, witch, die!” the people chorused. No one helped.

“Please, somebody, help me! Father!” I begged.

“Burn her! Burn the witch!” The shouts drowned mine.

“Please, I’m begging you, help me!” I cried. When the fire scorched my skin, I screamed; and the voices of the people were finally silenced as the pain devoured me whole.

I gasped and got up, feeling sweat trickling down my back. I looked around but found only darkness.

A few tears escaped, but I hurriedly wiped them away. It was difficult to breathe, but then I started to come back to reality, telling myself that it was in the past, that it was all a dream.

What time is it? It should be midnight. It should be.

Knowing that I would not feel better until I performed my nightly rituals, I tried to walk over to the door.

However, darkness had blinded me, which had me stretching my arms out to feel for anything solid. With careful steps, I slowly moved forward, hoping that I would not collide with something.

After some time, my hands came in contact with wood, the splinters pricking my fingers.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. At least I hoped it was a door. And I did not stop. I kept knocking, hoping somebody would hear me.

“Is somebody there? Please, I need some water!” I shouted.

I waited before hitting the door with all my might. “Somebody please! Is somebody there?” I yelled.

The door opened so suddenly I nearly fell, but managed to steady myself just in time. I looked up only to be met with a pair of angry eyes. Maybe the man wasn’t angry but the faint glow of the torch made him look like he was.

“What is it? What do you want?” he demanded, his tone definitely angry.

I took a deep breath before speaking. “Sir, can you please get me a bucket of cold water?” I requested.

Even though it was cold in the cell, I was sweating, and nothing but a cold bucket of water would help me.

“What?” He sounded aghast.

“Please sir, just one bucket of cold water, please,” I pleaded. I really needed cold water. I would not be able to sleep without it.

Muttering profanities under his breath, the guard slammed the door. A sob tore through me as thoughts of fire and getting burned consumed me.

I didn’t do anything wrong. I was not a witch, and yet they tried to kill me. Nobody wanted me to live. Nobody considered me human.

The door opened again, taking me by surprise. The same man stood there, holding something in his hand. “Here. I got you your bucket of water,” he uttered.

Gratitude filled me, and I smiled in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I told him.

I thought he would hand me the bucket of water and leave, but he did not do that.

The man threw the bucket of cold water at me, ice-cold water sloshing all over me, the wooden bucket hitting my forehead. A yelp escaped me as pain exploded in my forehead.

“Here is your bucket of cold water, witch.” The man cackled before he slammed the door shut, and this time I knew he wouldn’t open the door again.

Shivering, I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall. Water droplets slid down my face as I trembled with cold. But even though my body was cold, my soul was warm.

Now, I could sleep in peace, and hopefully no more nightmares would plague me, because I would not get another bucket of cold water.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and wrapped my shawl around me. Even though my shawl was wet, I still kept it around me, because it was my only protection.

My clothes were torn, so this piece of cloth was the only thing keeping me away from being taken advantage of.

When sleep came to me, I prayed that my memories wouldn’t haunt me.

And the next time I woke up, there was light and my eyes came in contact with the one person who I never expected in this cold cell. King Aboloft.

He was standing a few feet away from me, eyeing me with an undecipherable emotion in his arresting eyes. He was wearing a black robe, his crown glinting in the faint light.

It amazed me to see how handsome he had become. Aboloft had been handsome all his life, but time had only enhanced his beauty. Fear spiked in my heart before I forced myself to open my mouth.

“Your highness,” I said, then made myself kneel in front of him.

Aboloft did not say anything for some time, and I did not dare look up at him. If he wanted me to kneel in front of him for the rest of my life, I would do so, because this was how things were done here.

The silence was thicker than it had ever been. My heartbeat was so loud, I was afraid he could hear it. But I stayed still, not wanting to do anything to evoke his wrath.

King Aboloft was known for his cruelty, and I did not want the people of Quopia to use my tale as horror stories for their children.

I flinched when he touched my hair, feeling a strand of my dark hair between his fingers before he let it drop. My breath hitched when the fallen strand stroked my face. He knew. He knew what I had done.

The force of his slap nearly broke my neck in half, and I fell to the side. I held my cheek gently, but did not dare to raise my eyes. He was the king. He had all the power.

“What have you done to your hair?!” Aboloft roared, his voice freezing the marrow in my bones.

I whimpered and wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. But I did not reply to the king, which only infuriated him more.

“Answer me!” He growled, his order lashing at me like a whip.

“Please, your majesty, have mercy,” I pleaded softly.

“What have you done to your hair, Sabina? I won’t ask again,” Aboloft stated.

The only reason I stayed silent was because I could not tell him why I had changed the color of my hair. I wanted to, I really wanted to tell him, but I could not.

I could never tell him what had happened after he was gone. I could never tell him about my past. He was not a part of my life anymore. And so, I remained silent.

“Sabina, answer me, or else,” he threatened.

Again, I chose not to answer him. I knew I was defying the king and blatantly disrespecting him.

But his question was not coming from the King of Quopia, it was coming from my best friend, which had me keeping silent and instead strengthening my heart and waiting for his wrath.