The Road to the Tyrant
1014 Words
Aziel’s POV
The carriage jolted violently beneath me.
I opened my eyes.
My body ached. Every muscle felt sore from forcing this weak body through hours of breath control and instinct suppression. My back pressed against velvet cushions that were too soft, too useless. The scent of flowers clung to the carriage walls, mixing with the faint smell of old wood and leather.
I hated it.
I sat straighter, jaw clenched as another sharp ache shot through my limbs.
Pathetic.
This body was still pathetic.
Three days. That was what I had gathered from the whispers outside.
Three days to reach Ragnar Dravenhart’s empire. Three days before I stood before the Blood Tyrant.
Three days to prepare.
I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply.
In.
Out.
Again.
Again.
Ancient Alpha discipline.
My old body had been forged in war. This one trembled after sitting upright too long.
I would fix that.
A soft knock came from outside the carriage.
“My Prince?”
The voice was cautious.
I opened my eyes.
Soren.
The same servant I had nearly strangled yesterday.
I stared at the carriage door.
Silence stretched.
Then I spoke.
“Enter.”
The door opened slowly and Soren stepped inside carrying a tray.
He moved carefully, as though approaching a wild beast.
Smart.
He had changed clothes to simple black travel robes. His dark hair was tied back neatly now, exposing sharp cheekbones and wary gray eyes.
He knelt and lowered the tray.
Food.
Tea.
Medicine.
I looked at him.
He avoided my eyes.
Interesting.
Not fear.
Caution. Respect.
I studied him.
Lior’s memories were weak where he was concerned. Only fragments.
A servant sent from the Iron Fang Empire.
Ragnar’s man.
Watching. Waiting.
I spoke coldly.
“You work for Ragnar.”
Soren lifted his head slowly.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
I narrowed my eyes.
“And yet you serve me.”
“I was ordered to.”
I almost laughed.
Honest.
Or pretending to be.
I looked at the tray.
“You expect me to trust your food?”
Soren blinked.
Then, without hesitation, he picked up a piece of bread and ate it.
He swallowed. Then poured tea into a cup and drank from it.
I watched him carefully.
No hesitation.
No poison.
He set the cup down.
“It is safe.”
I stared at him.
Then took the tea.
Warm. Bitter.
I drank.
The medicine in it hit my tongue instantly. I lowered the cup slowly.
Soren tensed.
I smiled.
Coldly.
“You drugged me.”
His eyes widened.
“It is only a healing tonic.”
I threw the cup and it shattered beside his head.
Soren flinched but did not move.
My chest rose and fell. Anger burned hot beneath my skin.
No one drugged me.
No one controlled me.
I moved fast. Too fast for this body.
Pain ripped through my legs but I ignored it.
I grabbed Soren by the collar and slammed him against the carriage wall.
The entire carriage shook.
He gasped.
I leaned in close.
My voice dropped.
“Do not mistake my weakness for obedience.”
Soren stared at me. His breath was uneven.
But he did not beg.
Interesting.
His gray eyes met mine.
Steady.
“It was meant to help you.”
I tightened my grip.
His throat bobbed.
“I do not need help.”
“You do.”
The words left him before he could stop them.
Silence.
My grip tightened.
His face paled.
Then…
He laughed.
A short, breathless sound.
I froze.
He looked up at me.
And smiled. Actually smiled.
“You really are different.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What?”
His smile faded slightly.
“Prince Lior would have cried.”
My body went still.
Soren swallowed then his voice softened.
“But you…” He looked into my eyes. “You look like you want to kill the world.”
Silence filled the carriage.
I slowly released him. Soren coughed and rubbed his throat.
I stepped back.
My body swayed.
Damn it.
Soren noticed. Of course he did.
He stood quickly and reached for me.
I slapped his hand away.
“I can stand.”
He paused.
Then slowly lowered his hand.
“As you wish.”
I sat back down.
My legs burned and my chest tightened.
Humiliating.
Soren quietly picked up the fallen tray. He replaced the tea then sat across from me.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Careful.
I studied him.
“Why are you here?”
Soren hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
“I volunteered.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
He looked down briefly.
Then back at me.
“Because I pitied him.”
Lior.
He meant Lior.
Something ugly twisted in my chest.
Pity.
I hated pity.
Soren continued.
“I thought he would die.”
I said nothing.
He looked at me carefully.
“But now…” his lips twitched faintly, “I’m not so sure.”
I stared at him.
Then picked up the tea.
I drank.
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
Annoying.
The carriage continued to rattle forward.
Outside, horses neighed. Wheels cracked over rough roads.
Inside, silence settled between us.
Not uncomfortable.
Just watchful.
I shut my eyes again.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
Soren spoke softly.
“Your Highness.”
I opened one eye.
“What?”
His gaze flicked over me.
“You should sleep.”
I almost scoffed.
Instead, I leaned back.
My body was exhausted. My mind still sharp.
I let my eyes close.
Just for a moment.
The last thing I heard before sleep took me was Soren’s quiet voice.
So soft I almost thought I imagined it.
“You don’t have to survive alone anymore.”
…
When I woke again, it was dark.
The carriage had stopped.
Voices shouted outside.
Metal clanged.
Soren was gone.
I sat up.
Pain screamed through my body.
I ignored it.
The carriage door burst open.
Soren appeared.
His face was tense.
“We’re under attack.”
I smiled.
Finally.
Something fun.
- Writer
