Chapter Eight
Judrith knew the gravity of the situation, but his pride was all he had left. He wore a dirty smirk, a façade to conceal his fear.
"So? You're going to throw me into the Dark Dungeon as well?" he ranted.
Damon shook his head.
"No, Judrith. That would be a waste of my plan. Your life isn't worth a coin to me."
He took slow, predatory strides towards him.
"I'll take everything that matters to you, Judrith. Everything. You'll remain the King of Badrith, but you will rule under my every command. Your reign has waned. Badrith will be nothing but a pawn for my revenge."
Judrith's nose flared in rage.
"You bastard! How dare you! I shall not live to be your puppet," he spat.
Prince Damon pulled hard on the princess's hair, and a scream of pain tore from her mouth.
"Let her go, you bastard!"
"From now on, the princess will be my property, my pawn. Mine to destroy. Mine to kill. She shall go with me to Zandia, and you, Judrith, shall do nothing except what I order. Your daughter, from now on, will be my hostage."
Judrith roared in rage, struggling to break free.
"You monster! You shall do no such thing to my daughter!" he yelled, thrashing.
"A monster you created! Now you shall bear the brunt!" Prince Damon snarled, slashing his sword through Judrith's shoulder, inflicting a deep wound.
"Ahhhjj!" he yelped in pain.
"Father!" Princess Sabrina cried out. "Let me go!"
He pulled her hair harder.
"You shall stay still!" he snapped.
"You bastard!" King Judrith groaned in pain, blood oozing from his wound.
"From today onwards, Badrith shall exist by my order, and this kingdom shall run by my words, my rules. If any of you dare to trespass and act out of my orders..."
He paused.
"I shall have you and your family wiped out from the surface of this earth. Mark my words," he declared, his words hanging in the air.
"From today, Badrith is under my watch. Under my monarchy."
"King Damon!" Every single soul in the hall bowed in submission to their new monarch.
Today marked a new beginning for both kingdoms.
---
Sabrina huddled on the cold, bare floor of her cell in Zandia. She had been locked there for five days, her insides empty and numb.
She desperately wanted to escape, to be far away from there. She felt as if she would lose her mind any minute. Her body ached all over; everywhere hurt.
Her heart clenched with agony.
What was going to be her fate?
Her face was streaked with dried and fresh tears. She hadn't seen her captor since she was taken hostage.
No one had visited her, nor had she been let out. She had heard the happy cheers of the people of Zandia as they celebrated their king's coronation—a new start for them.
A new beginning for her too.
Her mind drifted back to the day she was torn from her home. Miserable tears rolled down her cheeks.
She had seen the stare he gave her that day—full of hate and vengeance.
A shiver settled at her very core; she had never witnessed a gaze so filled with hatred.
Her mind cast back to her father. She had watched him writhe in pain as they took her away. He was as helpless as she was.
Five days ago, she was Princess Sabrina, the most respected and feared in her kingdom, the daughter of the great King Judrith. No one dared defy her or cross her path.
Now, she was nothing but a hostage—a pawn for vengeance. Her father was humiliated in the worst way, forced to be a puppet to another.
Her heart clenched with hurt. She had lost everything: her title, her home, her life.
Could she really survive as nothing but a pawn?
Especially when she didn't know what the life of being a pawn to a vengeful king entailed.
She feared for the life that awaited her—a life she hadn't signed up for.
The sound of footsteps and rattling chains distracted her thoughts. The door opened, and a bodyguard entered.
"Stand up, Princess. The king awaits your presence," he said, his voice mocking.
Humiliated, she dragged herself up. She shot the guard a glare, who glared back at her in defiance.
She scoffed. No one would respect her here. Once upon a time, a mere guard would never have dared to glare back at her.
With a heavy heart, she stood. Her disheveled hair framed her face. Even in her messy and dirty state, her elegant poise remained.
She had been a princess for twenty-two years; that could never be taken from her.
The guards led the way, angry snarls and insults hurled at her as she walked across the palace of Zandia.
"Daughter of a monster!"
"She's bad! Her father deserves to die!"
"She dares to be proud after everything they've done!"
She kept her head up; she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.
She would not.
"Get in!" the guard snarled.
Sabrina walked into the room, but not before throwing the guard a nasty glare.
The room was dim. She roamed her gaze around, her pulse racing. What was she doing here?
In the dim light, her gaze landed on a figure seated across the room: King Damon.
Even without seeing his face, she knew he was watching her.
What was he doing?
She remained silent, maintaining the quiet he seemed to desire. Time passed, and he still said nothing. She nibbled on her lips, trying to distract herself from the terrifying silence.
If he was trying to scare her, he was succeeding. She hated the dark. She hated darkness.
She couldn't take it anymore. She spoke, her lips trembling slightly.
"You called for me," her voice firm and bold, nothing like what she was feeling inside.
He said nothing.
Her anger flared.
"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped.
A deep groan.
"You have quite a gut for someone who is a hostage," his voice was cold. It sent a chill down her spine.
She scoffed. What worse could happen to her? Taking her away from her home was one thing; trying to intimidate her was another. She would never let him succeed at the latter.
"I am no hostage. Not to you. Not to anyone. You do not own me," she grounded out. Her conviction strong and firm.
Silence. He went silent.
A beam of candlelight illuminated the room. She could get a better view of his face now.
She gulped. His face was emotionless and cold. Icy cold. He looked savage and brutal. His aura dark... too dark.
He stood, his gaze locked with hers. He took slow, predatory strides towards her, his royal garment sweeping behind him, making him look majestic. His every step dripped power. His mere presence commanded the room.
Her pulse raced with every step he took.
She had succeeded in annoying the devil. Regardless, she kept her head high and her gaze locked with his.
She would not let him get to her.
Not now, not ever.
"It seems you haven't grasped your situation yet, Princess," he began, the last word a sneer.
He touched her shoulder—she shivered in fear. Slowly, he traced his hand up to her neck. He gripped it tightly, knocking the breath out of her. She gasped.
"You are not a princess here, Sabrina. You are in my kingdom, my territory. And for as long as you stay here, you will do as I say. You will not run your tongue unless you want it plucked out," he gripped her throat tighter, rage and hatred lacing his eyes.
"Ahhh," she gasped for breath, her gaze blurred with unshed tears. Her defiance was still visible through her tears.
"You won't do a thing unless I order. My territory, my rules. You speak when I say so. If I order you to die, you cease breathing. If you defy my orders, I'll punish you—and trust me, you won't want to know what my punishment entails," he spat, venom and hatred deeply rooted in every word.
"You're mine now, Sabrina. My property. My pawn. And you'll atone for every pain your father dealt me. And mark my words, there's no escape. I will forever haunt your steps."
He released her throat, his cold demeanor replacing his enraged feature.
Sabrina clutched her burning throat, her scabbed wound now bleeding once more. She winced at the searing pain.
She held his gaze with anger and resentment; the man standing before her was nothing but dangerous. And he would hurt her badly.
She saw the loathe in his eyes, the rage, and the quest for vengeance.
How could someone harbor such great hatred?
He would stop at nothing to break her.
She shivered at that thought.
What had her father done?
"If you want to stay alive a little longer than I planned on, behave," he said. He spun on his heels, walking away from her.
"Cole!" he called.
A man who was his head of guards and security rushed in, his head bowed.
"Take her to her room. She is not allowed out unless I order it."
"Yes, my king."
"Inform Indiana I send for her," he ordered lastly before disappearing into one of the doors in the room.
"Follow me," Cole said.
She followed.
Immediately she stepped out, she released a breath she didn't know she was holding.
King Damon... he was dangerous.
He might not have unleashed a bit of his anger and hatred yet, but she knew. She saw it.
That man would do anything to get his revenge.
Now, she was bound to find a way to survive his wrath.