^^Sad River^^

"Evil lurks in the places you would never imagine and tries to charm its way into your life."

*As a super duper apology for the lateness of my chapters these past two weeks, this chapter is extra duper long (4405 words).

Chapter 43

River's POV

My eyes cracked open lazily, arms cocooned to my side as the bed vibrated beneath me. I zoned out for a few seconds, blinking away the drowsiness of early morning, before pivoting quickly to the side to face Alastair. His face pinched in a distraught-like manner as his body trembled beneath the silken sheets. The sheets laid just above his waist, barely covering much at all as arms wrapped tightly around his chest as, teeth grinding together.

I contemplated shaking him for a few minutes before deciding that the last thing he needed was to be shaken awake. Instead, I took a gentler route.

I leaned close on my side, as I laid a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Alastair," I whispered in his ear.

Silence met my ears in a familiar manner as his body shook in response, teeth continuing their previous clattering.

My fingers brushed across his face as it scrunched in pain.

What are you dreaming of, my love?

My lips brushed down his neck, slow and light as a butterfly's wings. My eyes closed, lashes brushing down his nape as my fingers slid lightly across his chest. That seemed to wake him as a low groan escaped his mouth, eyes slowly squinting open. His body immediately tensed, eyes roaming the room as he silently laid in bed.

"Alastair?" I whispered softly.

His head turned to face me, "River?" He peered quizzically at me as if confused by my presence.

Who else would be touching you in your sleep?

My heart tightened in my chest.

His eyes wandered my face as my eyes set on the paper square still sitting on our night table, haunting me with last night's dramas.

"How are you feeling?" I managed, turning my attention back to him.

"Better," his voice came out ragged, breath hitching slightly as he turned where I had, eyeing the paper square.

Don't look.

I raked my fingers through his thick hair, turning his attention back to me as I laid a light kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe you shouldn't take it again. Clearly, you don't react well to it-"

"No," his voice came out hoarsely, "I don't have a choice, love. It's either this or..."

I nodded.

His wolf.

A knock resounded at the door as the door creaked open.

Alastair shot straight in the bed as his voice rose, "Do not enter without permission." He barked, eyes digging into the poor creature on the other side.

Whoever it was slammed the door, footsteps growing farther and farther away from the sound of whispering maids filled the hall outside the room.

"...What's wrong?" I asked fingers wrapped tightly around the silken sheets.

Why did he raise his voice? He hadn't reacted in such a manner when they had done it in the past.

"Nothing," he sighed, lifting himself from the bed.

I followed after him, feet skidding lightly against the stone beneath my feet. He dug through his wardrobe, throwing clothes off hangers as his eyes raked through the silk and wool with a scowl.

"What's wrong?" I peered into the wardrobe but saw nothing to create such an unhappy expression.

"It is today," he mumbled in a passing, brushing past me to the bathing room.

"What is today?" I followed after him, eyes catching his in the mirror as he began undressing by the bath.

"The third day of the fourth week of the month."

My brows pulled as I let out a sigh, "I don't know what you're speaking of, Alastair."

He dropped the last shard of cloth onto the ground as he pivoted to face me, "Judgement day."

My breath caught in my throat as all color drained from my face to the cold stone beneath my feet.

Judgement day. The one day of the month where all great crimes, unsolvable to citizen courts, were brought to the royal court for the king himself to judge.

"You don't have to come if it makes you uncomfortable, love." His hands cupped my face, thumbs rubbing against my numb cheeks. The heat radiated off his gentle hands, warming my cheeks and heart as his soft hazels locked on mine.

"No, I'll come." My voice came light, lost as my uncertainty seeped into my words.

Did I want to come? Did I want to stand witness to my mate sending some to their death?

"Love-"

"No," I held my finger up, slowly, uncertainly, "I'll...I'll come."

I'm going to be a leader by his side. I can't be absent for such an important day. It'll look bad for the royal family if the heir's mate isn't present. It would look like I'm not fit for my soon-to-be position. I am...or at least I will be.

His brows rose slightly as his eyes searched mine, "Very well."

"I'm going to bathe," he continued, turning the faucet on, "I need to be my finest for today. Will you join me?" His eyes remained on the rushing water.

My fingers pressed lightly at my waist, biting lightly at my lip as a searing pain zipped from the area.

It hasn't healed yet.

"No, thank you."

He nodded as he dipped his fingers into the water, checking the heat before stepping in. I sat by the bath, mind wandering as he bathed silently, both of us ignoring the elephant in the room.

Finally, I spoke up, "Are you going to be okay today?"

He peered up from a bar of soap in his hands and nodded, peering back down at the same.

"...What was that earlier? With the maid by the door?"

He placed the soap back in its glass container as he peered at me, "A king is never to be seen at his weakest point, especially by his own people."

"Why is that?" Whose brilliant idea was that?

"A king is to be seen as all-powerful, being seen fallen like a mere slave would demise my honor."

He spoke as if it were obvious, but yet, I couldn't help but remain just as hopelessly puzzled as I was before he had replied.

What if he was dying? Was he to send away his doctor for his so-called honor?

A king is never to be seen at his weakest point.

"Even by me?" I tried to hide how affected I was by his words, but the hurt still seeped through.

He turned to face me, eyes softening as his arms lifted from the water to take my hand in his.

"Of course not," his lips brushed across my palm, "you are a part of me, my love. You may see me in whatever form you please."

Except for one form.

My eyes widened.

Why would I think such a thought? Of course, I would never...only rebels would-

"Love?" Alastair's voice cut through my thoughts like an edged knife.

"Yes?" I managed, pulling myself away from my previous thoughts.

"I'm going to get out now. Why don't you dress while I dry myself? It may help speed the process."

I nodded, dropping my hand from his hold and turning out the door. Facing my wardrobe, my brows pulled close.

What did one usually wear to an event as depressing as this? I was to sit back and watch as many were judged and sent away to the cutting board. What was one to wear to something like that?

"I believe we aren't judging any yet," I velvety voice filled my ears as Alastair appeared behind me, arms wrapping around my waist as he watched me eye my clothes through narrowed eyes.

My breath hitched as a burning sensation ran up my side. My lips tightened, containing my inner screams as he rubbed gentle circles in the area I'd much rather untouched.

"River? What's wrong?" His hands moved on my hips, sliding slightly as he turned his body to face me.

A low hiss escaped my mouth before I could catch myself. His hands froze on my hips, fingers moving a fraction to press lightly against my hip but this time I bit my lip. Before I could react, my shirt was up, stomach exposed as a deep, guttural growl escaped Alastair's throat.

He dropped to his knees, eyes leveled with the deep gashes across my waistline, "Who did this, love?" His voice came out choked.

I was silent. He looked seconds from flinging out the door and killing whoever had caused this. What was he to do if he were to find out the aggressor was none other than himself?

"Why won't you tell me?" His blazing eyes locked with mine, "Why are you protecting the person?"

Because he's the love of my life.

"I-" Before I could finish my sentence the door flew open revealing a scowl-faced Michael.

The door slammed against the wall as he marched in and stood a mere two feet from us, arms crossed, lips in a pout-like position.

Alastair's brow rose as he eyed his brother-in-law, "Can I help you, Michael?"

"Can I help you," Michael mumbled beneath his breath, voice heavy with annoyance.

"Yes, I do believe I said that..." Alastair watched Michael puzzledly.

"You," Michael pointed accusingly at Alastair, "because of your inability to show up to anything on time your brother had to sit in for you. Right in the middle of our sexy time, asswipe!"

Alastair's brows rose, "...What?"

"Check the time," Michael waved his hand in the direction of the clock.

I turned my head just as Alastair did, though why I did, I didn't know. It wasn't like I knew how to read time.

Alastair let out a sudden gasp, but before I could ask, his hands were in my closet, peeling out the nearest articles of clothes and putting them on me.

"Turn around," he growled in Michael's direction as he peeled off my shirt and replaced it with a clean one.

"As if I haven't already seen him shirtless," Michael laughed beneath his breath as he faced the wall.

Just as my boots were pulled up my legs, my hand was wrapped in his and I was pulled from the room.

"How upset is my father?" Alastair asked Michael as we rushed down the halls.

"On what scale?" Michael scoffed.

Alastair turned silent.

I cleared my throat, "So Michael, why was Keith pulled away during your..."

I didn't bother finishing my sentence as Michael cut in, "Well since Keith was the past heir and Alastair's existence was...well nonexistent, High Royal Behind decided to make Keith play dress up for the day."

What?

"He's saying since I'm late to court, my father placed my brother in my usual position, to fill my role until I show up," Alastair explained.

"Uh huh."

"And now that I've finally dragged your sorry ass from your room, we can finally get back to what we were doing before your father ordered him from our room."

We reached a large wooden door as Michael finished his declaration, Alastair nodded as Michael pushed the door open.

"He's here," Michael announced as everyone in the room turned their attention towards us.

Oh, Goddess.

A row of men dressed in formal attire sat in a long row, in the center laid two large thrones, hovering above all others. Upon the red velvet cushions sat Alastair's father alongside a scowl-faced Keith. Keith exhaled a loud breath as Alastair approached his father, bowing his head slightly.

"I'm here, father."

His Highness narrowed his eyes, fist resting below his chin as eyed his son, "Did something of more importance catch your eye, son?"

"No, father. Of course not. My tardiness is of my own incompetence," His voice came out chipped, mattered in monotonous little pieces.

His father nodded then waved him to the seat beside him as Keith stood up with a long exhale.

"Thank, Goddess," he mumbled beneath his breath as he brushed past Alastair and followed Michael out the door.

I stood nervously as Alastair took seat and the door closed with a resounding thump.

Two thrones. Was I to sit on the floor?

I peered at the floor.

Doesn't look too bad.

"Love?" A soft voice called above me. I looked up, face brightening as Alastair extended his arms out to me.

I so much as purred as I crawled into Alastair's lap and rested my head against his shoulder. His fingers combed through my hair as he eyed his father beside him.

"Please, do continue." He directed to the two nervous men before him, each peering at each other before turning back to Alastair.

"Your Majesty," said one with a crooked nose, as he stepped forward, "This man is being accused in our town of being rebel," he pointed towards the man beside him.

I sucked in a breath.

A rebel?

My mind couldn't help but wander back to my time underground. He didn't look familiar, but then again I hadn't spent much time in the men's area. I was mostly in the women's quarters except for the times in Emile and Parish's room.

"Your proof?" Alastair raised a hand in address.

The man waved a hand behind him. My eyes narrowed as a petite, blond girl stepped forward. Her hands shook as they gripped harshly to her pale, yellow dress.

"Show them, Mary," the crooked-nosed man directed the small girl.

Her hands shook as she began unzipping her dress.

"Wait," Alastair raised his hand, pausing the girl in her actions. "All men turn around," he directed. All the men in the room pivoted their bodies to face the wall as Alastair watched, "You may proceed," he directed when he saw all had turned but he, I, and his father.

She nodded, releasing a breath as she unzipped her dress, letting it drop just above her breasts. Bile pulled in my throat as my eyes locked on a long, gashing bite mark across her right shoulder. Though she didn't seem to be disgusted by it, rather her eyes locked on it with a look of...affection?

The other man, beside the crook-nosed man, couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the bite mark as his eyes brightened to an almost yellow before he shook his head and faced forward, eyes locking on mine.

A shiver ran up my spine as the yellow drained for his eyes, returning to a honey brown. I peered around me, yet all were facing the wall. I glanced at Alastair and his father yet they seemed to solely be focusing on the wound, completely unaware of the second man. His eyes locked on mine as his head tilted slightly to the side. His mouth opened, uttering a word I couldn't hear.

My brows pulled as I bent forward in Alastair's lap, eyes locking on the man's lips as he opened his mouth again but no words escaped, interrupted as Alastair spoke up.

"And you believe this man did that?" His eyes pulled from the girl's shoulder to the honey brown-eyed man.

He looked to be in his early twenties with a strong jawline and thick eyebrows. He seemed relaxed for a man on the chopping block, almost too relaxed. As if at peace with whatever was happening.

"He mated with her and the next day she appeared to work with that," the crooked-nosed man pointed to bite mark, "he's already been accused of being seen shifting by many civilians. This was just the final say, the last straw."

"What is your side to this?" Alastair asked the honey brown-eyed man.

"This is ridiculous," the crooked-nosed man spoke up. "Who cares what he has to say. He's been seen shifting by more than two civilians and now his mate has that. What could he possibly say to defend himself?"

Alastair ignored the man as he raised a hand to the younger man beside him.

"I...I have nothing to say."

"Nothing at all?" Alastair pushed as he eyed the young man, "Do you not wish to save yourself? You do know that this is a capital offense?"

"You will be killed, boy," His Highness spoke up. "If you have anything to show for yourself, state it now, before dangling by a vice."

The man shook his head, peering across the room at the petite blond.

"Very well," Alastair sucked in a breath. "Pull up your dress," he directed the girl, immediately ordering all men to face forward against once she was done.

The men watched the younger man through narrowed eyes folded arms, glimpsing briefly at the girl and then back again.

The younger man stood, stone-like, not once glancing at his accuser as his eyes locked on the petite blond, emotions swirling like reckless fire beneath his soft globes.

Had he really bit his mate? Why would one do something so reckless? Especially when already being accused of being seen shifting? What was he thinking?

"This man is accused of being a rebel," Alastair announced to the men in the room, "After being seen multiple times shifting, he was finally caught harming his own mate, leaving a dreadful bite across her shoulder. By the order of this judgment, His Highness and I pronounce him...guilty."

My breath caught in my throat as a loud shriek escaped the small blond, her eyes widened in horror as her mate was pulled away by dozens of men in armor. His head hung low, eyes glazed over as he was roughly dragged from the room and into the cellars below.

"He is to be hung tomorrow at noon," His Highness announced.

The man appeared empty, unmoving as the darkness of the cellar swallowed him and the loud boom of the metal door closed behind him.

Unlike his, all the trials after were much louder. Fits of screaming men and crying women filled the large wooden room as men fought with fists as armed men, brutally dragged them down to the cellar. Women clawed at through tears and shrieks as Alastair wiped his face with exasperation. I spent most of the trails burrowing my face in Alastair's neck, too afraid to open them and peer upon a face I was to watch be killed the following day.

How does one have the stomach for this?

When the trails were finally over, we retired to our room. Though as I laid in bed awake, my mind couldn't help but wander to the young man with honey-brown eyes. He seemed so at peace with death as so many after he hadn't been. I couldn't help but remember the look he had cast to the small blonde and the way she had returned it. They didn't seem to have the victim-attacker-like relationship as those after had, but that of love. He had just mated with her yet ripped away so aggressively right after, yet through all that he remained at peace. He didn't scream nor shout, yet accept his fate as so many can't.

A wave of nausea bubbled in my stomach as I imaged a face, so full of color and peace turning pale and brittle. I'd have to witness his death tomorrow.

Would his mate be forced to watch it as well?

I shook my head.

No, but would she want to?

I laid, contemplating that before standing from the bed.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the night that caused a moment of insanity or the constant recalling of his trial haunting through the night, but whatever it was, it caused me to jump from my bed and make a break for the cellar.

I wasn't sure why, but I felt the need to see him. To somehow help him. I couldn't break him from his cell but perhaps I could bring him some food from the kitchen. He probably hadn't had a decent meal for quite a number of hours.

I couldn't help but feel my heart tighten for him. Being ripped from his mate only a day after mating.

It isn't fair. It isn't right.

Though what was I to do about it? I was nothing but the heir's mate.

I made a stop, on the way, in the kitchen, picking up a couple fruits and bread to bring down as I snuck between bars of metal down the cellar stairs.

I guess there is a plus to being so tiny,

As I passed by rows of cages, my heart jumped. Faces of men and women filled my vision, each skinnier and more malnourished than the last. Eyes popped from their faces as they eyed me pass their bars. An arm reached from one, grabbing at my robe as I passed by. A shriek escaped my throat as I was pulled harshly against the bars and a wet tongue brushed down my throat.

A herd of men rushed from around the corner and pulled the men from me, pushing him harshly back into his cage as he eyed me from afar. A cold shiver ran down my spine, tugging with it all the heat from my body.

"Your Majesty," one armored man exclaimed, "What are you doing down here?" He peered up the stairs I had come with a puzzled expression, "Did you get lost?"

I shook my head, wracking my brain for a logical response. "Ala-His Majesty sent me to talk to one of the inmates."

He raised a brow, "Why would he sent his mate to do that," his eyes raked down my body, probably wondering if my mate had gone moronic enough to send his mate to such a dangerous place to merely speak to someone.

"Couldn't he have sent one of his footmen?" His brows pinched.

My brain went blank.

I did not think this through.

"If you'd like I can go ask him..."

His eyes widened, "No!" His voice rose, "please, no need to interrupt him." He waved the men behind him back to their posts as he directed me back on my path. "I'm sure His Majesty has his reasons."

I nodded, sending him a thankful smile as I scurried down the cellar before he could come to the realization of what he had just done.

I heard a gasp behind me as I took a sharp turn and ran as fast as my feet could take me.

Too late.

I turned my head in circles as I ran down lines and lines of metal bars, looking across the cages for a familiar face.

Where are they keeping the prisoners from today?

"Can I help you with anything, gorgeous?"

A stopped in my tracks, turning to a dark face behind a pair of thick metal bars. His face remained concealed in the darkness of the cage, hands pressed against the bars as I stood a comfortable distance away as not to be grabbed as I was before.

Would he know where they put the prisoners from today?

"Umm, would you have happened to see where they put the prisoners from today's trial?" My voice came out in a small squeak.

He remained silent for a few minutes, making me wonder whether he had heard me at all.

Maybe he wasn't really offering help. Maybe he says that to everyone who passes his cell.

"Hmm," his voice rang from behind the metal bars as he grew closer. I took a hesitant step back. "I do believe I saw a group of men being dragged ahead today. Though, then again it could have been yesterday or the day before..." his voice trailed off, "Time isn't a very accurate thing down here. What with it always so dark. You begin to think that perhaps there's never been light to begin with," he laughed humorlessly.

I wasn't quite sure what to say so I merely nodded, "thank you," I managed as I continued on my way.

I walked past dozens of cells, none containing any recognizable faces.

Maybe you have already past him. How would you know? It's so dark that even if you had seen him, you probably didn't even recognize him.

Voices filled the narrowed, dark hall as I continued walking. I held my breath and slowly turned the corner, expecting to see a group of armored men but instead seeing a small girl, sitting cross-legged in front of a cell. A small lamp sat beside her and just as she turned in my direction my eyes widened.

The small blond from earlier.

Her blond locks fell on her face as she squinted in my direction. I turned round the corner, only allowed my eyes to peek out.

"What's wrong, Mary?" A familiar voice rang from behind the cell in front of her.

She shook her head and turned back to the cell, "I thought I heard something."

"It was probably one of the mice down here," the young man soothed her as she played with her locks.

Though slightly bright by her, my area was completely pitch black making it almost impossible for her to see me. Though thanks to her lamplight, I could see her.

I contemplated turning the corner but decided against it. If she knew the prince's mate caught her down here she'd jump from her skin.

I didn't really have a good excuse for being down here, to begin with. I'm sure he'd much rather spend his last minutes with his mate rather than me anyways.

I turned back around and continued back from where I'd come, food still sitting idly in my arms.

What am I to do with this?

I turned around a corner as I continued thinking.

Maybe I should give it to that man earlier? He had helped me find them.

Though as I continued down the cells and dripping ceilings my mind grew more and more anxious. None of the cells of people looked familiar.

Did I turn a wrong corner?

I turned left around another corner, hoping perhaps that would take me back on the correct path but instead I was met with a dead end.

That's it. I'm lost. It's official.

I pivoted on my heels, turning my head this way in that.

Where am I?

My eyes widened as they locked on a door plastered with red paint across the top.

Alastair's...

My eyes narrowed, though I couldn't read the rest of the paint in all the darkness.

Maybe it's a pathway back to his room? Could I possibly be so lucky?

I pressed my hand to the door, feeling for a knob as I pushed against it. The door creaked open as I stood motionless by the entrance. Rows of fire-lit torches hung from every corner, revealing weapons of all shapes and sizes dangling menacingly across the faded stone walls.

My feet seemed to move on their own as I stepped slowly into the chilling room. My eyes locked on every knife and whip on the walls. It looked more like a torture chamber than a room and the fact that my mate's name was plastered across the front door sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

What is this place...?

A large cell stood like ominous foe across the room. Walls of weapons and torture devices led to it, the weapons growing sharper and more horrid as the cell grew closer and closer. My feet seemed unable to stop, racing towards the dark block like a moth to a parlous flame.

I stopped a mere foot away, breath hitching in my throat as a pair of glowing blues met mine. The figure rose from its slumber, stepping towards the splattered red, metal bars with a drag to its feet. A loud breath escaped its throat as a gust of bile rose in my throat. My heart stopped, lungs constricting in my chest as its eyes locked on mine. A crooked smirk rose to its filthy brown cheeks.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, son."