C. Bryant - Broken

“Let her go,” Kira demanded.

“I will release her after I deliver a message from a friend of yours,” the girl said, her voice now a little too nasal. “You remember Shandira, yes?” She stepped closer, so close Kira could see the break in her nose. “She seeks revenge for what you have done and we are more than eager to deliver a blow that will bring you and your prince the kind of grief she suffers.”

The girl reached into a small pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out a bundle about six inches long and as big around as her wrist. She unfolded the flaps of leather to expose a clump of long, white, needle-like spikes. She gripped it at the base with the piece of leather, then brought it up to Kira’s face. She spread the spines out, exposing a clear membrane that held them together like the lace on a fancy Victorian fan.

Ussay gasped, bit down on the man’s hand and tried to wrestle out of his arms. “Kira, do not let them touch you with tha-” Her words were cut off by a solid punch to her ribcage. The man clamped his hand back over her mouth.

“Ussay! Don’t fight them,” Kira yelled. “Do what they say.” She glanced at the open door, hoping Octavion would notice her missing from the cemetery and come to find her. Even if she screamed, she wasn’t sure she’d be heard over all the noise from the festival. And she hadn’t gained enough strength back from her last ordeal with Shandira to fight more than she already had. Now, more than ever, she wished Altaria would take control of her body so she could kick some Darkord butt.

“What is that?” Kira asked. After Ussay’s reaction, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

The girl made a grand gesture with the object, lightly brushing it across Kira’s cheek-as if that alone would scare her. “The dorsal fin of a S’Kiff-a beautiful fish that lives in the depths of our many oceans. One prick to your skin will bring you more pain than you can bear.” A menacing grin crossed her face. “And render your womb barren and your prince without an heir.”

Her words pierced Kira’s heart. In this world, having an heir meant everything, especially for a prince. Kira had taken Shandira’s hope of giving her prince an heir and now she planned to do the same to her.

“Kira!” Octavion called from a distance.

The man holding Ussay pushed her to the ground and took off through an opening in the back of the structure.

“Coward,” the girl yelled.

All at once the room exploded with voices and movement. Ussay screamed. Octavion appeared at the door demanding Kira’s release. Seconds later Luka-with three other Royals-entered the room, completely transformed and ready to fight.

Kira lurched forward after being shoved by her captor, who Octavion immediately took down. As big and strong as the man seemed, he didn’t have a chance. The force behind the man’s shove, caused Kira to slam full force into the girl and both tumbled to the ground in a heap. For several blurred moments, Kira wasn’t sure who was where and which groan or cry of profanity came from whom.

Then just as fast as it had begun, it was over. Both of her male attackers had been killed and the woman lie unconscious, a large section of the S’Kiff’s dorsal fin buried in her stomach. Gripped tightly in her right hand were the three remaining spikes, one with the tip broken off. Luka stepped to her side and slit her throat.

Kira gasped. “Why did you do that?”

Luka wiped his knife on the girl’s shirt and slipped it back in its sheath. “Trust me. She would have begged me to do that when she woke.” He pulled his tunic over his head and handed it to Ussay. “Cover yourself, then I will take you home.”

Octavion helped Kira from the floor and examined her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.” But she didn’t feel fine. Her gut ached where the girl kicked her and an infernal burning in her arm made her fingers tingle. She pulled her sleeve up to see if maybe she’d been scratched or hit a piece of debris when she fell and got a sliver. About halfway between her wrist and the crook of her arm was a huge red welt-in the center, the tip of a S’Kiff’s dorsel fin.

“Where is Ussay?” Octavion asked. He’d brought Kira to her room in the castle the instant he saw the welt on her arm. Not because of the wound itself, but because the fin needed to be removed and he couldn’t do it himself for fear of it bleeding.

“She is in the hall.” Luka said. “I tried taking her home so she could get cleaned up and change, but she insisted on staying with Kira. She feels responsible.”

“I need her to remove this,” Octavion said.

“No!” Kira yelled. “She’s not touching it. I don’t want to take a chance of her getting pricked by it. I’ll do it myself, just give me a pair of tweezers or a knife. I can get it out.”

Octavion sat on the bed next to Kira, her face scrunched in pain. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how bad it would get before her ordeal was over-worse than any physical torture she’d ever endured. And the long term damage would render her barren. Although they’d never discussed having children, he knew it would break her heart.

He took Kira’s trembling hand. “Look at you. You are shaking. There is no way you can take that out. At least let Luka get Gregor. Ussay can be here if he needs her help.”

Luka disappeared from the room without a word. A few moments later he burst through the door, Gregor in tow.

The old man grumbled something under his breath before he spoke. “You boys think you can rip me from my home at a moment’s notice and assume I will be at your beck and call day and night. I do have other patients and-”

“Gregor!” Octavion scolded. “Stop complaining. My father pays you well to be at our disposal. Have you forgotten that?”

Gregor’s face softened. “No, dear prince. Please forgive my rudeness. I did not know it was you who required my services.” He moved closer and bowed.

Ussay stood at the door, still wearing Luka’s tunic over her torn slip. “May I help?” Her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” Octavion said. “But I need to speak with you first.” Lacing his fingers through Kira’s hair, he held her tear stained face in his hands. He wiped the moisture from under her eyes with his thumbs then kissed her forehead. “I need to explain what will happen next-what the S’Kiff will do to you.”

Kira’s chin quivered and more tears welled up in her eyes. “I already know. And I know you’ll need to choose someone else to marry now. Someone who can give you an heir. You can take me back home. I don’t belong here anyway.”

“What? No. I do not want anyone else. We belong together-whether in your world or mine. This changes nothing, Kira. Do you understand? Nothing.”

Kira stifled a sob. “It changes everything.”

Octavion took her in his arms and held her close. “I love you. Nothing can change that. Not even this.” A spasm ran through her body and he laid her back on the pillows. Her injured arm shook violently.

“It hurts,” she cried, pulling her arm close to her body. “Get this thing out of me. Make it stop.”

Octavion turned to Luka. “Perhaps Mara would be better suited to explain this and give her comfort.”

“Consider it done.” Luka vanished.

Gregor stepped closer. “S’Kiff?”

“Yes,” Octavion said. “The tip is still in her arm. Can you take it out-gently?”

“Of course. I will need someone to hold her arm.”

“Ussay can help, but I need to ask her something first.” He turned back to Kira. “I will not be far. You will be all right, Kira. I promise. As bad as it gets, this will not take your life. Do you understand?”