Three

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
Ulric is battered and weak, but he is alive. I've thought about him every day since the Allaji took him. The struggle to keep my thoughts hopeful has been hard. I never asked about him, fearing that Zek would use our friendship against me. The king has already harmed too many of my people. Each violent act made me sick, but a part of me was always grateful it wasn't Ulric beaten and bloody. It appears my gratitude was in vain.
I can count each of Ulric's ribs. His lips are dry and cracked and his face gaunt. The always-present smile and sparkle in his eyes has dimmed to a washed out blue. Open gashes ooze blood down his face and neck, and scars and bruises pepper his torso. His skin is bright pink from long exposure to the sun. I forced myself not to imagine the worse—to not think of him like this—but it didn't stop it from happening.
The urge to wipe away the blood trickling from Ulric's nose takes hold, and I move to stand from the arm of the throne. Zek grabs my wrist, pinning me in place. "How unexpected is this? A reunion of old friends."
"Remove your hands from my queen," Ulric hisses with a hoarse voice.
My heart aches with happiness. The vibrant man I know is still fighting underneath his battered exterior. He is all right, and I will do everything within my power to keep him that way.
Zek cocks a brow and chuckles. "Charming. He doesn't know you're my plaything, Elle."
"Watch the way you speak to her, you piece of shit," Ulric says.
Nikko spins around and plants his fist in the center of Ulric's stomach. He doubles over with a groan and spits blood onto the ground. It takes everything within me to stay put. The last thing I want to do is intervene and make the situation worse. I have no choice but to stand idly by if I want my friend to leave this room alive.
"It would seem he's still causing problems. What are his charges, Nikko?" Zek asks.
"Stealing goods belonging to the Allaji kingdom and organizing a coup. These are not the Cyffred's first offenses, Your Majesty. He has been whipped several times for refusing to follow directions and abandoning his duties to tend to the injuries of the workers."
Zek leans forward and intertwines his fingers between his knees. He studies Ulric for a moment, lingering on the burses covering his torso. I can almost see the horrific thoughts floating in his head, ways to use Ulric to torture and punish me. When his lips pull into a lopsided grin, I know whatever happens next will take a bite out of my soul.
"You are friends with Kyron, aren't you?" Zek asks Ulric.
"Aye. The best of friends, ya sick fuck."
"Perfect." The king leans back and crosses one leg over the other. "Take his head and send it to his best friend. You can let the villagers fight over the rest of his remains."
"No!" I bolt down the steps before Zek can stop me. I press my back to Ulric's front and hold out my arms. "Don't hurt him."
"Elle, what are you doing?" Ulric's words are more than a question; they are a fearful warning.