Zorren watched the bright red blood as it washed from his hands and flowed down the drain of his washroom sink. There was a lot of it. More than he had thought there would be, but then he hadn’t thought very much when he acted. He’d been in a rage, and when he got that angry, his mind didn’t always register the finer details. Not that it really mattered. He was feeling better now. His anger was now just a dull roar at the back of his mind.
Once he was sure every speck was gone from his hands, Zorren turned off the faucet and looked at his reflection. There was blood on his face where it had sprayed up and across. There was blood on his clothes as well, but the black hid it well. Still, he’d have to throw them away, of course. Zorren took up a cloth to wipe his face, and then he shucked his clothes so he stood in the middle of the washroom naked.
There was a beep at his wrist. He looked down. A few drops had splattered across the silver surface of his unity ring. Under two large drops, the name of his father showed to let Zorren know who was calling. It had been the third time he’d called that evening. Zorren doubted his father had anything good to say, and so he’d opted not to answer the first two times.
Yavit.
He considered not answering this time, but then he’d later have to hear about that as well after his father eventually got a hold of him, either by an eventual call connecting or his Legionnaires coming to corral Zorren. He tapped the screen, and his father’s face came into view in front of him.
“It’s about time,” his father replied in a cold tone. “Next time, answer the first time I call.”
Zorren just grunted.
His father then squinted his eyes as he peered at Zorren. “You could have at least dressed yourself first.”
“I’m not an agent of the Imperial Seat any more. I don’t have to do anything,” Zorren snapped.
His father pursed his lips as if he was going to say something about that, but then thought better of it. “I called to let you know that you won’t be getting your regular stipend for the month, or the next three months either.”
Zorren blinked for a minute not sure he had heard correctly. He was being cut off? Anger flared back through Zorren. “What? Why?”
His father leaned in the image as his cold blue eyes bore even harder into him. “Because it has come to my attention that you haven’t been doing as I asked. I told you that you weren’t to take any actions against your brother didn’t I? And yet, I get very damning evidence that you’ve been putting ideas in Captain Hame’s head that I’m certain led to him confronting Adar, when he might not have otherwise. In fact, it had puzzled me why he had acted like that when I gave him a direct order not too. He’s always been an obedient man, at least until you put ideas in his head. I also have high suspicion that you’ve been fanning the flames of what’s been going on at the Protectorate with your brother.”
Zorren opened his mouth to say he wasn’t involved in that, but his father gave him a sharp look that shut him up.
“Don’t deny it, Zorren. I know you, and it was a perfect opportunity for you to act behind the scenes. Though, I had hoped you’d taken my warning a few months ago to heart.”
Zorren snorted. “If you are going to accuse me of something, then at least have proof, father. A suspicion is not evidence. I can go to the Kings Council on this, if you try to prosecute me for it. They won’t be happy with you moving against me without evidence.”
And they wouldn’t. The noble houses were perfectly fine with all sorts of shenanigans done against one another, but the hard rule was it had to be done discreetly. Until irrefutable evidence was presented of a party doing wrong against another, the Council or even father himself wouldn’t legitimize the accuser. The rulers of the Empire did not tolerate false or unsupported accusations, and often penalized those who wasted their time.
“Did I say that I would? I simply said I would take away your allowance for four months. If you can behave yourself in that time, I will consider giving it back, otherwise, I’m afraid you are going to have to find other means to support yourself.”
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Zorren felt his jaw clamped shut. Four months would be hard enough, but a permanent loss of income that he’d gotten all his life? That would be unpleasant. There was no way around that. Though, he’d prepared for such a possibility in recent years when it was becoming clear father wasn’t going to give Zorren his title back. But it was far better to spend another person’s money than your own, especially with the expensive lifestyle he liked to live and the exotic hunting he enjoyed.
“Did you hear me?” father demanded when Zorren hadn’t responded.
“Yes,” Zorren hissed through his pressed lips.
Father simply nodded as if that sealed the deal. “Then you are on notice, and I will be watching. But you can turn this around if you have mind to. If I hear nothing of you acting out against your brother by the end of four months time, I will resume your funds.”
The image of his father cut off abruptly, leaving Zorren fuming. The anger he’d released from learning that the latest attack on his brother had failed––again was back in full force. That had been bad enough, but then he’d learned all his pawns at the College were either dead, arrested, or on the run. His perfect opportunity get rid of his brother and begin his master plan had evaporated. Just like that.
The rage had been immediate and intense. Much more than he’d expected. Much more than his messenger had expected. Zorren didn’t often loose control like that, but he could feel that same unraveling happening to him now. His blood coming to a boil just under his skin. The wild hammering of his heart. His body quivering in silent fury.
In the haze of the rage racing through his system, Zorren heard a small noise. He stood absolutely still as his ears focused on the sound. It was quiet. Almost a whisper. He almost didn’t catch it. But there it was again. He focused more, and finally was able to identify the noise. It was a soft whimpering of someone crying.
Shock rushed through Zorren. There had been so much blood. He eyed his discarded and bloody clothes. It had gotten everywhere. Surely, he had finished what he’d started. But no. There was crying. It had not ended after all.
Zorren clenched his fists and marched out of his washroom into his bed chamber. He peered into the dim lighting of his room to the other side of his rumbled bed where a bloody heap lay on the floor. It looked so small in the large room. Rather insignificant really. And a few minutes ago, Zorren had thought the heap dead. And yet, the mound of flesh, blood, and torn clothes moved. A steady rise and fall as the crying continued.
The Prince stood there eyeing the whimpering heap as his shock turned to pleasure. Was it the blood? Was it the pitiful despair? Or maybe the fear? Oh he could almost taste the fear coming from the heap, and he wasn’t even Empathic. But no. He knew the real reason for the tingling sensation that warred with the rage still ravaging through him. He still had a toy to play with. Someone he could vent his brand new frustrations on.
He reached down and pulled up the head of the heap. There was so much blood he could barely see the eyes and the long strands of blonde hair seemed to be everywhere, though large parts were matted with crimson. He intertwined his fingers deep into the scalp so he could yank the head back with more force than was necessary. The cry turned to a scream.
The sound of it sent shivers through his body. Zorren looked deep into the emerald eyes that glared back at him. Oh, so she had finally graduated her fear to anger. That sent another set of shivers through Zorren to see his own rage mirrored back at him.
“My father will kill you for what you’ve done. I was warned. They told me you were an animal. I didn’t listen,” the woman spat at him.
Zorren reached out his other hand and softly ran a hand down one of her cheeks. The skin was still so soft and smooth, even after all he had done over the last half hour or so. What a marvel. He brought the head closer to him, and then leaned down the rest of the way to kiss the top of her bloody hair. The smell of her blood, fear, and tears excited him.
“Thank you for not dying yet. That was an unexpected kindness,” he told the woman. He shifted her head so he could look her in the eyes again. “I received some more bad news just a moment ago, and you are my beautiful cure.”
The woman’s eyes widened as all her anger dissolved into terror. “No, please no. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened. Plea–”
But her last word was cut off as Zorren used his grip on her hair to toss her away from him. She slid across the floor, creating a bloody trail with her broken body. Zorren followed and he kicked and pummeled her with everything he had. All the rage flowing from his limps and toward the soft body.
It was a long time after her last cries and pleas that Zorren finally stopped. He stood panting from the exertion. The rage now just a dull roar in his ears. He was sated once more.
The Prince stood there for a long moment staring at the heap, wondering if it would move again or say any more words. It did not. It lay still. Silent. After a time, Zorren leaned down to check for a pulse. He needed to be sure this time. A long minute passed, and he felt no heart beat. Zorren stood up as a glow of warmth spread through him.
It was done.
Zorren smiled. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in a higher class of prey. He’d done without for far too long because he’d been trying to win father’s favor little good that had done him. That had been mistake. Anything that felt this good should never be denied.
His body quaked in pleasure, and in his throes of ecstasy he made himself the promise that he would never deny himself such pleasures again. He deserved this and oh so much more. It was time to stop playing by half measures. It was time for bold moves. It was time to conquer his beloved Empire.