“It was…a g…girl, Your Majesty. She…she healed him.” The servant cringed back, waiting for the violent and hateful reaction of his King upon failing their mission, yet again.
The false King snapped his head toward his lowly servant in disbelief. Surely, the fool was lying.
“Then how did you escape?” the King asked incredulously.
“I hid and waited for them to leave, Your Highness. I had him, he was dead. But…but…the girl…she healed him, right there! They then knew my position and I could not risk another shot.” The servant reluctantly looked into the eyes of his Master. “They were both there, Your Majesty. I felt it was most pertinent to relay what I witnessed to you.” The servant then bowed deeper until his nose touched the ground, praying for mercy. He recalled what his Master had said would happen if he failed. But he hadn’t failed.
The King’s expression grew dark and menacing. Both...together? How…accommodating, he thought with a malefic smile.
“Who was the girl, N’taurn?” the King said as he walked up to the prostrated, quivering servant.
“I…do not…know,” said N’taurn as he slowly looked up. “I have never beheld her before…Your Majesty.”
“Worry not, you fool. They will come to me now. Yes, it is most certain, indeed. They are much too close to not.” The false King let out a dark, sinister laugh as he clasped his hands together.
“This newfound Healer will most certainly be mine.”
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