Chapter 12

When the door opened, Killian straightened his posture. His back pressed up against his throne, lifting his chin from a curled fist.  Brows rose.  Ely was hyper aware of his eyes watching her saunter down the crimson and gold carpeted center aisle of the dimly lit throne room.  Five candelabras were flickering aflame.  Only a few.

There he was. Proud in all of his glory. For all the mayhem and destruction, for all the desperation and hopelessness, for all the crushing military victories and conquests he brought. Ely had to silently reminded herself that Killian was just a man.  A man who seemed vaguely familiar.  The dark hair, though longer, his chin held high in confidence. 

While the guard escorted Ely in, Killian's lips twitched into a small smile as he rose to his full, looming height. His hands clasped behind his back.  Another familiar gesture.  The black robe adorning his muscular form lay half open.  One large sword strapped to a black leather belt around his black breeches sang out with a clank, drawing attention to itself.

Killian strode boldly towards Elyena, descending a few of the stairs.  His eyes, dark as charcoal and commanding expression beckoned her forward.

Each stride forward, broke a fissure into Ely's heart as she took in the once familiar room.  It was completely different.  Dark, dreary and dirty where once it had been light, pristine and full of chatter.  Ely nearly fell apart right there, but willed herself to stay strong and continue taking those steps forward.

She needed answers.

Ely needed to regain her kingdom, restore it to its former glory, be rid of the tyrant.  No matter the cost.

Halfway down the center of the room, Ely's eyes lifted toward the dominating presence at the top of the stairs immediately meeting Killian's intense eyes.  Anger, no, rage billowed in her chest at this man, growing more intensely with each step she took up toward him. 

The man who murdered her Uncle.

Did God knows what with her sister.

Forcefully stole her family's throne.

Walking with head high, shoulders back in regal posture, Ely took one calculated advance at a time toward Killian and his outstretched gloved hand. All eyes of the guards followed her making Ely all too aware.  Many guards lined the room. Some she recognized from when her Uncle ruled.  One she recognized from somewhere else.

"It is wonderful to see you awake, Princess Elyena," Killian chimed, his voice dripped with charm, "I hope the bump on your head is better. I have waited a long time for this moment. Twelve years, to be exact."

Ely's eyes narrowed hearing his claim.  Twelve years?  She first met him only months before his siege.  Where was this twelve years coming from?  Though something did tug at her.  Seeing him closer, Killian resembled someone she had met years before but the memory was fuzzy.

"Come stand before your King. Tell him how you fare," he cooed, beckoning her forward with his hand outstretched.

Lips tilting into a meek smile, Ely paused at the first base of the stairs leading to the throne on a platform. Four guards had fallen into rank from their posts, forming a half circle behind her.  Ely lowered elegantly into a relaxed curtsy, but raised her head and eyes to Killian.

"At least one of us looked forward to this meeting," Ely commented, the smile dropping as she straightened.  "His Majesty attentively inquires how I fare?" Heart hammering, Ely pushed on ascending one stair at a time.

"You ordered armed men to drag me here like a criminal. One scared my horse.  I got bucked off earning me this lovely bump.  Then those same men proceeded to carry me here without knowing the full extent of my injuries.  Now I am led here like chattel up for auction or a common whore!" She was now yelling, chest heaving, pausing only a few steps away. "My Lord, how do I fare? I fare well considering the circumstances."

Ely squared her shoulders, jutting her chin upward as she finished speaking, clashing Killian's narrowed eyes with rage fueled emerald. It took every ounce of strength within her, now that she was faced with this tyrant, to not lunge at him and claw his eyes out.  Her slender fingers tightened around the folds of her dress, hiding the cheese knife.

No. She was a princess.

She would follow decorum, knowing full well the time would come when King Killian would get exactly what was coming to him.

Now was not the time for vengeance but for calculated politics. Ely had questions she needed answered.  She will get those answers by day's end.

Killian's eyes lit up with a righteous fury. His eyes traveled beyond Ely amongst the men in company, who cowered beneath his threatening scowl.

"Who was it?"  he demanded, rushing down the few steps separating them until he towered above the princess.  "Who caused that mayhem leading to your injury? I will have them put to death!"

Ely flinched.  She stumbled back a few of steps in fear of Killian's outburst but then her face twisted with confusion.

Why was he so upset? The guards carried out his orders. They were his puppets!

"Is that how you solve every problem when something stands in your way?" she roared, closing the distance between them and waved her hand dismissively. "Give the order to eliminate them. All of them? Like you did when you stole that throne you now sit on!"

Flashing her fury, Ely claimed the final few steps between them. Knife reeling back, she aimed for his heart, if he even had one.  Her aim true, she plunged her weapon forward.

However, Killian was faster.  Much faster.  A strong hand gripped her wrist, twisting it painfully, eliciting a hiss of pain.  Ely's fingers faltered, releasing the knife to fall and clatter to the stone floor.

His jaw clenched. Eyes blazing, Killian wrapped his other arm around her waist. He yanked her flush to his front.  Ely let out a hiss of pain.

"Unhand me!" Ely demanded, thrashing in Killian's unrelenting hold. "Get your filthy hands off me!"

Twisting and fighting his vice grip caused a few curls of hair to fall out of her braid. 

"Who do you think you are to dare attempt to kill me?" 

Ely froze at his chilling words then flashed a glare directly at Killian.

"My name is Princess Elyena of Kildare.  You murdered my uncle and deserve to die."

Killian peered down at her, lips curved with a mild amusement.  He guided one of her hands to rest on his chest.  He held up a black leather gloved hand, ignoring Ely's glare.  With feigned affection, he grazed his knuckles along her cheek, tucking the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.  Every muscle in her body tensed at the contact, air trapped in her lungs until he suddenly released her.

Scoffing in disbelief, Ely retreated one stair. His answer was a bellowing laugh echoing throughout the throne room.

"My dear, do not be so angry with me." Killian grinned. His laughter settled.  "It is my destiny to rule.  There is no denying this. But," he clasped his hands together then continued, "I missed the most important element. You."

"Me?" Ely exclaimed breathily, retreating another step backwards. Her heart fluttered in her chest faster.

With a slow nod, Killian stepped forward. "I want you to partake in this glory with me. I have chosen you because you are well-educated, talented, intelligent, and a legitimate princess of acceptable, marriageable age.  More than that, I need someone by my side who has vision, passion and the motivation for improvement. I have known from the moment we met, that you, Elyena, are that woman."

A cold rush of fear ran through Ely's body at Killian's proclamation. "W-we met only," she looked away, "months before the siege."

"No, Elyena," Killian shook his head slowly.  "We met long before."

"I," she now stared at him, "do not understand."

"In time," he pressed on, now standing directly before her on the steps leading to the throne.  Killian raised his hand to pinch her chin holding it tightly between his thumb and forefinger.

"You will come to understand. There is only one woman whom I can call a love, whom I could ever marry or have ruling by my side. It is you. If you would only come to understand everything sooner, we can both live in bliss and happiness together. That is my request."

"M-marry you?" Ely spat in disgust.  Jerking her chin away from his hand.  "YOU! You who murdered my uncle.  Ruined my family's kingdom and done God knows what with my sister. And now, now you drag me back here and say you want to marry me?" Standing directly beneath him, Ely had to tilt her chin up to lock eyes.  "No."

With a snap of his fingers, two of the closest guards stepped forward.   Ely's voice echoed against the dark stone walls and marble floors.  They held her tightly but as she struggled, Ely managed to spit at Killian's face.

Killian watched unblinking, his lips curved into an amused, strained smile.

"You are a murdering, lying thief!" she hollered, resuming her struggle again. "If it was your destiny to rule, you would have been the oldest born son!"

With one last effort to break free, Ely jerked her arms up and twisted her body finally successful at breaking free of the guards grasp. Due to the force of her movements, she went plunging forward right to the last place she wanted to be. 

Killian's arms.

His strong grip held her tight against him mere inches from his face.  It seemed almost natural to him when Ely stumbled into his arms even if she didn't intend to.  Killian caught her without hesitation.

Ely felt the warmth of his chest and strength of his arms as she remained caged in his hold.  Her arms were bent, pinned between their bodies, fingers splayed over his bare chest and dark.  Soft tufts of curls peaked through the open V of his tunic. Killian had her in his grip. Quite literally.  He could do anything he desired. All he did was smile darkly.

Now face to face, Ely had a chance to see his features up close.  Swirling charcoal gray eyes gleamed down at her with unnamed emotions above a strong, aquiline nose and full lips.  They looked soft and warm.  Killian had a uniquely roguish handsomeness to him.  The light layer of a beard added to a mysterious yet sinister allure.  Those eyes though.  Familiar except their color, the intensity was still there.  Irises as dark as the bottom of an ink well threatened to drag her into their depths.

"See?" Killian whispered, warm breath gently fanning her face. "Even without knowing, you rush into my arms."

He gave a smile as his knuckles stroked her auburn hair.

Ely closed her eyes tight as Killian raised his hand. She thought he was going to slap her down to the ground for the earlier display of defiance. She was terrified at being dangerously close to the most powerful man in the kingdom.  Whether rightfully there or not, he could easily toss her back to the guards.  Order her death right there. Even break her neck with his own two large hands.  However, she was completely thrown as he stroked her hair instead.

"Older or younger, it does not matter," Killian continued softly. "The order of my birth is unrelated with my birthright.  You mourn your dear uncle, but your sister? Your sister is safe and well in my care. Vanessa, is it?" He let out a small laugh.

Tears nearly poured out of Ely's eyes. "Would seeing your sweet sister bring you some solace, Elyena?"

Overcome by happiness and relief, she leaned her forehead against his chest.  "Yes. Yes, please. I want," she paused, remembering the literal position she was in.

Ely raised her moist eyes to Killian's, pleading the request she spoke as tears streamed down her face. "I need to see Vanessa."

Killian gave a smile someone would give when they were graceful and humble in victory. Fierce eyes flicked to one of the guards, fingers snapped, then pointed him to the door. Reluctantly, he released Ely.

Relief rushed through her with the renewed distance. Swallowing her anger as Killian so calmly reclaimed the throne he stole from her family, she pressed her lips into a thin line choosing to remain silent for fear of jeopardizing seeing her sister.

"She will be brought here shortly."

All Ely felt she could do at the moment was lower her eyes and murmur quietly, "Thank you."

Finally, I will see Vanessa.