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kiliinstinct · 1 year

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The Colosseum: Chapter 2

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Pairing: Nalu Rating: M

An update? To this fic? Sacrilege! How dare I update this after the years I've left it untouched? I promised I'd update it this year and update it I have! Also, thank @genavere for me. She beta'd this.

The funny thing here is the opening to this was literally done a week after I posted the last chapter. I can't believe it took me so long to get the rest of it. Whoops.

Note: There is a “different language” being spoken here. I wont make a translation key- as, I’ll be trying to detail what needs to be understood in the writing itself. The language used is not created by me, but is a Draconian Text used for some Dungeons and Dragons game. Warning: This story is going to be the darkest thing I've ever wrote- but this chapter is tame. For the most part.

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‘Tir ti enel-’

Princess Hisui had yet to learn the translation, but felt it had to be a form of insult. An exhausting week passed since she first visited the imprisoned Draconians, and despair settled deep in the Princess’ bones. All attempts to speak to the couple ended the same: the blonde silent and staring while the male growled and repeated the same phrase again and again.

She recalled Faust mentioning the girl knew the common tongue and heard her speak it once--for a brief moment. Hisui hoped she would hear it herself, possibly ask if the girl the Emperor named ‘Lucy’ could translate and speak on the couple’s behalf.

No such luck.

All attempts at conversation failed, and Hisui changed her tactics to something more direct than talk: Action. When she was permitted to see them, under the guise of study and curiosity-- she ordered her men to carry small items the two could use.

Usually it was food, stolen from the tables at supper or the pantries when her own guards dared to mingle with the cooks. Other times, fresh water, bandages, and, one time, even blankets. None of which were enough to be noticeable. Faust’s men didn’t check on them nearly enough, but any bit they were able to gather was far better than the rags that covered their stone beds and the scraps that had been deemed ‘meals.’ The Fioran Princess had yet to see if these small gifts helped. She worried they ignored the given food, but hoped it would, in the end, earn their trust. Even if just a little.

‘Tir ti enel!’

The man - Natsu, he was called, yes?- merely kept repeating himself no matter her efforts. Today, she considered giving up and stop risking the tentative peace. There were bigger worries to focus on than two slaves, and perhaps being left alone was what he wanted, she mused.

Halfway up the stone steps, disheartened by the lack of progress she had made with them, she tried to stop her dismal thinking. As the heir and daughter of the Fiore throne, she would face greater challenges than this. It did not matter if they wished for solitude, freedom was what they deserved. A Fiore was just as stubborn as a Draconian, and made of a strong will, too.

Gathering her confidence, she took in a deep breath and counted to ten. A few more breaths and her will was set once more. She turned back, determined to try again with more fervor. They would have to accept her at some point, right? She hoped her stubbornness wouldn’t lead her to a fool’s errand.

They had already begun to eat their next gifted meal. A surprising amount of Natsu’s portion had been passed through the bars to cover Lucy’s plate and with it, another blanket. He seemed to intentionally give most of his commodities to his partner, keeping only a little for himself. And while this sight was heartbreaking to Hisui, she also recognized it for what it truly was: a good sign. Could she consider that progress?

Another step closer and the male froze in position, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. He tilted his gaze back to her and hissed low, spitting the phrase out in a mantra.

Hisui steeled herself, she wouldn’t back down, not this time, “I apologize, but I still don’t know what that means.”

Hisui hoped that maybe enough mention towards their obvious language barrier would lead to one of them explaining. But he only rolled his eyes in response.

When he moved in front of the small window of his cell, the scales along his skin glimmered, reminding her of his heritage. She wondered at Lucy’s scales, having barely glimpsed them during their debut battle. In comparison to the red that dotted Natsu’s skin, hers were lacking in luster, blending in with her skin. She wanted another glimpse, perhaps another chance to learn, but the woman was unwilling to move into the light. She kept herself shielded in the shadows, or against the wall of their joined cells, hands clasped in his.

It was…Tragic.

There was no better word. Many could be said, but tragedy covered all in a neatly packaged bow. One she wished she could unwrap and return to the sender.

They didn’t deserve this. To be locked up. Forced to fight. Away from their home: their friends and family– they had more than just themselves, yes?

Hisui chewed on one of her painted nails, ignoring the taste as she observed them. What more could be done? If she freed them of her own volition, war could be declared between the Empire and Her Kingdom.

Fiore was not in a position to handle war. Not now. Not against Faust. Helping them escape was the best option, but one Hisui couldn’t do. Not directly. Her people depended on her: Were depending on her. If she didn’t secure this alliance, everything could go belly up within a few years.

That or her father would be forced to send her off to marriage, locked behind protocol and politics to serve as another man’s trophy. While nothing like the situation the blonde Draconian was in, Hisui felt a surge of empathy. Anything, but that. She despised the thought of a marriage of convenience. Her father ruled the Kingdom just fine on his own, and while she would be the future Monarch, Hisui was confident in her abilities to do the same.

But if it meant the slow decline of her economy and the people she ruled over? Worser still, if Faust offered himself as a marriage candidate… She flinched, biting the nail to the quick. Tears stung the edges of her eyes and she sighed, staring at the two Draconians who never once took their eyes off her.

“I don’t suppose you two have ideas on how I can earn your trust, do you?” She asked without expectations. They’d given her nothing so far, why believe they would now of all times?

But Lucy looked upon Hisui through the fringe of her hair. Her eyes shimmered and her shoulders grew lax as if coming to a decision. For the first time in a week, she looked to consider Hisui’s words.

“Nomagqe jaciv ui-ulph - uh… telling the truth?” She sounded it out slowly, unknown words mixing with known, and Hisui hoped the unfamiliar sentence meant what she thought it did.

“Yes,” she urged, stepping closer to the bars in excitement. “Yes, I’m telling the truth, I swear!”

Lucy looked to Natsu, fingers clutching his own, and her head nodded. He growled in response, shaking his head wildly. “Thric, Lucinia. Thric. Jaciv wont klae hesi gewjtok ominaki.”

Hisui couldn’t tell, but something in the way he glowered from the corner of his eye made her believe he was judging her for something. It was clear, then, that Lucy was the one she would need to convince first.

What had Natsu called her? Hisui knelt to her knees, ignoring the dust of the stone floor coating the white of her dress. She considered grasping the bars, but at Natsu’s warning, she withdrew.

Casting a glance back to the entrance, her guard, Arcadios, kept careful watch. His tall, armored countenance filled the exit, ensuring her privacy: good. Nodding to him, she reaffirmed her resolve, sweeping her gaze back to the caged girl in silent hope.

“... Lucinia?” She asked, “Is that your name? I’m Hisui, the Princess Of the Fiore Kingdom. I promise, I am not related to Emperor Faust or his Empire in any way.”

When Lucy flinched, Hisui immediately regretted her words, “I’m sorry. I won’t say his name again.” If that really was the cause for her reaction, Hisui thought to herself, hoping it wasn’t the use of her name that did it. “Would you like me to call you Lucinia?”

She waited with baited breath, desperately trying to read Lucy’s expression. Would she finally breach the barrier of their language and talk to her? The silence settled around them with the dust and cobwebs. Hisui’s knees began to sting from the rough surface of the floor,but she would continue to sit there until her time was up, if she had to. Anything to make them realize she meant every word she had said.

Unfortunately, time would never be on her side.

“Milady,” Arcadios whispered from his station, “Faust will start to wonder if we’re gone too long. We need to leave.”

Disappointment filled her, but still she did not move. “A few more moments, please.”

She allowed silence to fill the room until she felt close to drowning, waiting in hopes of some connection. Please. Please. Give me something.

Natsu was the one to respond, snarling as he reared up against the bars. It was futile as he couldn’t reach Hisui from the inside, but she understood the meaning. He wanted her to leave. The sooner the better.

She sighed, disappointed she couldn’t make further headway, but stood to meet his eyes. They were dark, but lit up with flecks of gold. As if a burning fire simmered beneath the surface. Hisui wondered how they would look in the light of day.

Defeat quickly burst through her earlier confidence, shoulders slouching. Perhaps she was kidding herself, or hoping for a miracle in too short a time. She would simply have to try again and again and. Teeth grinding tightly against the other, a shock of pain jolted through Hisui’s jaw, pulling her from her negative thoughts and straight to a decision.

“Take me back to my rooms, Arcadios.” She ordered, straightening her stance again. She would have to freshen up before being subjected to another hour’s worth of Faust’s boasting. The taller man nodded, no longer filling the exit with his tall frame, but pushing the door open to wait for her.

Hisui’s heart was heavy. There was a sickness in her veins as she turned her back on the two draconians. She felt so useless. Of course they wouldn’t trust her. The most she could do was place nice and that was far from what they deserved or wanted. Fighting back a sting of tears, she continued to contain herself, a desperate attempt to stand tall and appear strong. The emperor was not allowed to see her weakness and neither were they. Not now. Of all times.

Taking the lead, she moved to the open doors, barely nodding to Arcadios as she passed, taking the steps with tears of shame prickling the edges of her eyes.

Two steps up and a meek, tired voice echoed up behind her, freezing her place.

“Lucy is fine,” the female Draconian whispered, followed by the disgruntled snarls of her partner. “Lucinia ui for wux, Natsuth.” The threatening growl cut off at the reprimand and calmed in an instant. Hisui felt a new hope soar.

Finally!

Relief flooded through her and she smiled. A foot in the door was better than none at all. She left with a lighter step and renewed vigor. If her patience could earn that, she was confident she could handle anything. Even Faust.

Unfortunately, within a few hours, Hisui grew to regret that confidence. While she kept her joy hidden—cradled in the depths of her mind for motivation, Emperor Faust was an entirely different beast that hammered away at her mental armor.

Lunch was atrociously wasted. Not only had she changed clothes to hide the stains on her previous skirts, she even prepared an entire spiel of lies detailing the morning she had to keep him from the truth. Yet despite these attempts, not only did she not have the stomach for the meal presented before her, it was all dishes she’d specifically stated weren’t to her tastes to begin with. (Hadn’t she explained before that she preferred a vegetarian diet? Why have deer placed before her? Her stomach rolled at the memory.)

Was this the hospitality Faust boasted? Or an intentional opening to antagonize her?

Faust was nothing but narcissistic. Any compliment to his rule, his non-existing wits, and the beauty that was his cherished Colosseum, left him monologuing for too many candle marks. Hisui couldn’t wait for his tour through the gardens, the beautiful flowers overshadowed by the battlegrounds looming overhead. Anything was better than listening to him brag.

The facility's gaping maw was a dark stain against the greenery, revealing the true stain of Faust’s empire, a direct dichotomy to the pure white of the castle stone.

If Hisui wasn’t careful, she’d blow her cover from her expressions alone, grimacing at the sight each time his back turned. He created a broad silhouette she had to choose between staring at over the other. Wearing shoulder pads that created an illusion to his stature, she realized everything about him felt like that: an illusion. His robes were thick, draping across the ground to collect every twig and leaf along the way, much like his beard at the lunch table. As he prattled on, he would fall into fits of manic laughter. It echoed through her skull, while his sweeping, once cleanly brushed beard dragged along the ground with his cloak.

How he managed to traverse his own halls without overheating was a marvel. A testament of his age that he needed the constant warmth of his rich furs? Perhaps. But he was too stubborn to let the passage of time send him to his grave. Hisui cursed the gods for such a slight.

“Tell me, Princess,”–Faust’s sudden change of demeanor gave her pause, pulling Hisui from her thoughts and settled to a neutral, practiced expression–“You appear distracted. Whatever could be more fascinating than this?”

“Oh, am I?” She dismissed the claim with an airy wave, “Forgive me, I’ve been here for some time now, but the sights still feel like a giant maze. Your gardens are simply too majestic, Your Excellency.”

“Ah, but they pale in comparison to the battlegrounds.” His gaze searched her own, filling Hisui with a searing dread. “Tell me, have I allowed you to view the actual grounds yet? Or has it only been from a distance?”

“I’ve had a wonderful view from the Nobles box.” Her answer was an honest one, but hid the horrified thoughts shrieking in her head. Don’t take me there again. Not again, please no-

“Hah! A great view it is, but it doesn’t quite pack the same punch as standing in the middle of it all. Perhaps we should-”

One of his advisors, Byro she recalled, cleared his throat. His short, boxy frame came to her hips, but he looked even smaller next to the Emperor, who barely inclined his head to acknowledge the man. “What is it, Byro?”

Hisui pursed her lips together, staring at the advisor with a raised brow. The man in question, looked beyond her as if she didn’t exist, coughing behind a gnarled fist as he bowed before Faust, words oozing with false sincerity. “I’m sure we can schedule a time to explore the Colosseum grounds further,” He answered calmly.

Relief surged through her veins. This was just the pause she needed as she frantically considered the best way to decline Faust’s invitation before it had been uttered. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she sucked on her bottom lip, fingers delicately pulling at the seams of her gloves as she considered the least insulting options.

The advisor continued, unaware of the turmoil in their guest. “Unfortunately, we don't have the time today. My apologies, but there are still many things to settle at court before dinner.”

Faust narrowed his eyes, his entire countenance darkening as the older, balding man, tensed. “Change the schedule.”

“Mi…milord?”

“Have you grown deaf in your age?” Faust barked, spittle ejecting from his mouth. “I said CHANGE it. Whoever needs my attention can wait or join the gladiators.” His eyes narrowed to slits beneath unkempt brows, voice lowering menacingly, “As could you, if it pleases me.”

“Y-yes..!” Byro’s short stature was quick to move, bowing deep enough to almost knock his head into his knees. She spied his shoulders shaking as he shuffled off. “Right away, my apologies!”

Not for the first time, Hisui was glad she had diplomatic immunity. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t risk war by subjecting her to the same terrors as his own men.

The couple down below gave her a swift reminder that even those outside his borders weren’t safe. But then, couldn’t the Southern Denizens come to reclaim their own? Or were the two Draconions not important enough for war? Hisui wished she could find the answers. If only they’d speak with her!

Changing their route to follow the pathway towards the looming shell of the Emperor's pride and Joy, the Princess felt her lungs drop deep into her stomach. Perhaps, Byro had the right of it. and it was she who was the unfortunate one. Immunity or not, she would rather be rushing back towards the Palace like him than being subjected to viewing the field of battle once more.

“Pardon me,” she said, tongue twisting on her words as she attempted to find the best way to phrase herself, “but is there really that large a difference to see the grounds close up, as above it?”

She still remembered the sights from the giant box seats he’d brought her to before. The view was far enough to be safe from all manner of weapons flying out of bounds, but close enough to see the brutality up close. She still remembered the bruised and battered bodies of his contestants, ferally attacking the others in a desperate attempt to have one more day to live. While the crowds screamed and cheered for their favorites, who swung their chosen weapons She noticed the wildness in their eyes, the sweat pouring rivers down into them. She couldn’t hear it, but she could see the way they gasped for air, hoping for any source of energy that would allow them to prevail.

While the crowd and their emperor saw a test of honor and show of strength, she saw men and women, clinging to life in any way possible. A horrid show and testament of the human conscious. She dreaded going any closer to those grounds than necessary.

“Tch, of course there is.” Whether she showed her discomfort or not, Faust didn’t notice or care, beckoning her to look forward with a sweep of his draping sleeves, “How can you truly feel what my gladiators do if you can’t experience it from their perspective?”

Oh, I have a pretty good idea what they feel already,she acerbically thought.

But any further attempts to dissuade Faust went ignored. It didn’t matter if she feigned a yawned, asked for the time for dinner ( “I’m dreadfully hungry-” she’d said, answered only with a “You’ll enjoy your supper when you get it then, won't you?”), or dramatically pointed to nearby ruins of the older palace’s location in excitement.

At least, she hoped it sounded excited, and not nearly as panicked at the prospect of having to enter the Colosseum once more.

Unfortunately, that was also rebuffed.

Faust stared disdainfully at the old remains as if it could shrivel it into non-existence. “An old relic of a bygone age. It’s useless to think about and holds no purpose. Now, quit dawdling, Princess! We’re almost there.”

Yes, she deflated, that’s what she was afraid of. Her gaze trailed back to the old tower, curious as to Faust’s reaction to it. It looked to shrink from view the further they walked and a flash of gold moved in the underbrush alongside it. Hisui blinked, confused, but the flash was gone. A reflection from a broken window, she figured.

There wasn’t much time to consider the ruin further as the Colosseum’s shadow stretched over them as they walked. Her mood darkened, distracting her away from those thoughts. Its archways gaped like giant mouths, beckoning its prey in as its next source of sustenance. She had nightmares of its entrances, swallowing her up with the screams of its warriors and victims. The dungeons had been the closest she dared to venture, and now, she had no choice, but to follow Faust into her waking nightmare.

Without a crowd, the arena was a void of silence. Hisui felt stifled by the air as she observed the open dome. The stands were pristine, constantly swept and washed down before guests filled them, now bare and open for a future she didn’t wish to see. The grand seats were juxtaposed by the dirt encrusted arena still full of dust and debris from past battles. The comparison from one to the other left Hisui breathless.

Walking through the opened gates felt like being thrust into the jaws of a beast. Faust proudly strolled in, unaware of the monster he’d created and Hisui shuddered, eyeing the portcullis gates that loomed overhead as she passed, shackling her down as good as any irons. When they breached the open air, brushing aside bits of wood and iron stuck in the dirt beneath their feet, she eagerly looked up into the sky, clinging to its open expanse as a source of freedom.

Anything to ignore the oppressive weight of the arena as it swallowed her whole.

She forced air into her lungs, swallowing thickly passed the sharp, intense fear that settled in her bones. This was not an area she ever wanted to enter. Not from this angle, but he seemed undeterred. He was giddy, in fact, with arms widespread, strolling to the center of the grounds like a child exploring a toy store. His grin wide, teeth gleaming in his excitement, eyes almost mad in delight.

Her steps were slow, out of pace with his own, reluctant to go further than needed, but this displeased him. After he spun around, eyeing his beautiful arrangement, he lashed out, grasping her wrist to drag her close enough to smell the rancid sweet oils in his beard. Each breath an overpowering and nauseating sign of its misuse.

“Do you see now?” he guffawed, staring back to the box that held his own seat. “The view from here is entirely different! Here, we are the center of everything, the center of beautiful battles for life and death. You can feel their stories from here, can’t you? The glory of their deaths? Look around. It’s astonishing!”

Her mind whirled in disgust. Disdain spilled from her lips in an exclamation of horror that was bit back in a sudden fit of coughing. Clearing her throat, she commented on the dust in the air to use as her scapegoat and willed her expression to remain neutral. Her eyes burned as she resisted the urge to scrunch her nose, willing herself to follow Faust’s direction.

Broken spears and a glint of old arrows were buried in the dirt, colored in the red of rust and dried blood. They dotted the landscape and Faust beheld them as one did an extravagant painting. He was right that she could see their stories, dotted in every gash and blunted knife around them. What he saw as a glorious tale of honor and entertainment, she saw as a grueling struggle of preservation.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice hollow, “quite…astonishing.“

“And just think,”–Faust’s voice was too close, whispering in her ear. She bit into her lip to prevent a scream, stubbornly resisting the urge to shove the Emperor with enough force to cripple the older man’s knees. His gnarled fingers moved to brush along her throat, raising the hairs on her skin–“if you were to battle here, weapon in hand, you could be part of it. Your enemy is just ahead, dauntless in his task to take you down before you strike. All… just…to please me.”

What…was he saying? Hisui finally found her voice, hissing harshly, “You threaten war with that fantasy, Emperor Faust!”

The air became clear in an instant. The touch of his fingers lingered as he stepped away, giving her space as he chuckled, eyes whirling in amusement. Digging her nails deep into the palms of her hand, she turned to face him, anger flashing in her green eyes.

Digging her heels into the dusty earth, she planted her hands against her hips and stood her ground. Now wasn’t the time to reveal any weaknesses, nor the fact that her entire body was strung up tight to keep from quaking.

His smile widened, “You’re a beautiful girl, my lady. An old man can’t help but envision what could have happened if your Kingdom was at war against me. I’ve seen you practice bladwork with your own men. You’d have been an excellent actor on this stage of mine.”

Hisui swallowed down the bile rising in her throat, “...But we’re not at war.” She cautiously reminded, ignoring the loud voice screaming in her head. A fire burned in her heart, wishing against all logic that her words could be false. What she wouldn’t give for a chance to stab him in his grisled heart–

His laughter echoed around the stadium–a crackling sound that felt like the bones of dead warriors had sprung to his throat. “No, we are not. Aren’t you lucky?”

The atmosphere shifted again as he stepped away, giving her more air to breathe, more time to think and less defenses to put up. Turning back to the wrought iron gate they’d entered, he motioned for his guards to follow after, laughing each step of the way.

“I’m sure your guards know the way back to the palace,” he said, derisively, “but I'm tired of our visitation. Enjoy the view, Princess, we can discuss this more later.”

Somehow, Hisui felt she was being provoked. His back presented a glaring target and her own dagger, nestled against her hip, burned. Could she move quick enough, yes, but that would be the end of it. His guards versus her own would end poorly, and assistance from home was much too far to enlist.

It was a target that mocked her and he walked with confident strides. Almost as if he knew her imagined fantasies of jabbing her knife squarely in his hunched back.

It would take Hisui many minutes before she moved again, paralyzed by the feuding emotions that rattled inside her brain. Arcadios, having advanced as soon as Faust left, found her that way and approached as one would a frightened animal.

He gleamed in the sunlight, white armor blinding as his hair grew flat from sweat. The sun gave no partial judgment to the nobles or the damned. He stood before her and waited for an invite to come closer. Even at that distance, she could see the anger swirling in his eyes, the gnashing of his teeth to hold back his words.

When she didn’t acknowledge him, he chose to go against protocol, brushing a hand against her face to bring her back to reality. She flinched at his touch, hand reflexively moving to grasp her weapon, but he caught her just as quick. “Your Highness,” he attempted to sooth, fingers smoothing out the creases on her forehead, “He’s gone. For now, you can breathe again.”

It all came out in one exhalation, voice quaking as a sob cracked through her frozen throat. All the strength left her, and she clung to Arcadios in an attempt to brace herself. Her knees buckled under the weight of her myriad of emotions. Just what was that? What was Faust trying to do? Had she been threatened? Did he know what she had been trying to attempt with his prized prisoners?

Hisui struggled to breath, unaware of the way Arcadios wrapped her in his cloak to drag her out of the arena. Her men, waiting at the entrance, took their places around her, all matching the captain’s expression of outrage. Their knuckles white against the pommels of their swords, and the tension from them sought to shackle her. She needed air. More air. More than they could provide! As the looming mouth of the stadium disappeared behind her, she wildly looked for an escape. Anywhere she could that didn’t involve stuffy, marble halls or the watchful gazes of Faust’s soldiers. She’d rather bite off her own tongue and die!

Spying the ruins from before, she grasped the only source of peace she could find. Faust had looked upon it in disdain, angry at a relic whose history was hidden from her. The only place that was safe from his maddening eyes. He wouldn’t go there. Not now. It was perfect. “Take me there!” She ordered, fingers grasping into Arcadios’ armor, ignoring the way the harsh metal bent her nails, “I can’t go back, not yet!”

They couldn’t get her there fast enough. Each step felt like an hour as her mind went racing through the altercation in a loop. She wondered if there was a deeper meaning to his words, and the recollection of his proximity made her skin crawl. If she could claw it off she would, desperate for the effect to no longer exist. The tower, though dilapidated with age, was comforting. It was askew to the ground, leaning over as vines reached out in an embrace to pull it into the earth below. An old stone bench stood adjacent to it, as if overlooking its slowly decaying walls. Hisui made for that seat, pushing out from Arcadios on wobbly legs, ignoring the underbrush that clung to her dress and legs. It was thicker here, allowed to take over what was once a beautiful watch tower, and she inhaled the wild grass and sticker bushes in desperation. All but throwing herself onto the bench once she was close,and finally allowed herself to decompress.Her posture shifted, hunching over to gasp for air and allow hot tears to well up and drip down heated cheeks. Arcadios and his men followed, but kept a proper distance, giving her the time she needed to piece herself back together. They secure the perimeter, all eyes on the gloomy, pristine palace that housed a tyrant they all wanted to kill. Was peace and proper trade routes really worth this?

Hisui gulped in oxygen like it was water, fingers rubbing along her shoulders as if to wipe away the filth of Faust’s presence. Was it like that for the two Draconians locked away? Had he approached Lucy in such a way? Had he touched her like that, too? What fury must they have felt? What sickening desolation? She would have to be careful in her next visitations, she knew that, but this occurrence only fueled her resolve further.

She would get them out. Even if she had to risk war. Oh, how she’d relish the end if it resulted in that bastard's death!

So engrossed in her thoughts, she almost didn’t catch the sounds behind her. A gentle rustling in the brush that could have been the wind, except there was none. Perhaps she heard footsteps or the padded feet of an animal, skulking away, or perhaps one of her guards had deigned to come closer and check on her. There were many conclusions to the sound, but her paranoia was on a hair trigger.Brandishing her dagger in a swift jolt, she spun to face the–

Too slow.

A hand, much larger than Foust’s, grasped her from behind, clenching her windpipe just enough to provide force but not rob her of air. Another hand grasped the top of her own, preventing her from slashing out as a low, almost familiar growl reverberated behind her.

For a historical moment, she thought Natsuth had escaped his cell and was rampaging, but the snarl was too deep to be his.

And the hand–eyes shifted downward, too large, and glistening in golden, angry scales. Not Lucy…but… Another draconian? She tried to speak, but the grip tightened in warning, cutting off her words.

“Tir ti zhen, munthrek!” Hisui didn’t know the words, but she knew a real threat when she felt one.

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