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Lugh’s anger was nearly visible. Though I could not touch it, not without my magic.
“You are right,” Lugh said, restraining himself but not moving away. He met my eyes with a deadly grin. “I want my bride to look pretty at our wedding. I can do whatever I want, after that.”
It was a threat. But what Lugh didn’t know was that I did not fear torture. My fear lay elsewhere...
“I will not marry you,” I said.
“You won’t?” Lugh chuckled. “You still think you have power. What an illusion...”
“Forget about her, my king,” Lady Queill said.
Lugh nodded.
“Is she dying?” Lugh asked, turning to Queill.
Confusion rose in me as Lady Queill replied.
“No, your grace,” she replied. “I took away her powers and gave her a potion to make her pass out. I didn’t...”
Before she could finish the sentence, Lugh reached for the knife at his belt. He kept his eyes on me as my chest tightened with fear.
“No!” I shouted.
Lugh simply laughed.
“You cannot stop this,” Lugh said as he got on his knees beside Orla. “You have no power, silly girl. You think you do, but you don’t.”
He lifted Orla’s head. Then he pulled his knife out and placed the sharp edge on Orla’s neck.
“Stop!” I shouted. “I will marry you. Don’t kill her!”
He met my gaze.
He smiled.
Then, watching me intently as though he wanted to see my reaction, he moved the blade.
Blood burst out, an explosion of liquid that came in dwindling waves.
He had just cut Orla’s throat.
A deafening scream rose. I think it was me.
Blood kept pouring. There was so much of it. It created a puddle on the dirty dungeon floor as Orla kept dying.
“Rein her in,” Lugh said as he got up. “I can’t stand her voice.”
Orla’s body twisted a bit as though it pained her to die.
It took her so long to die and yet, only seconds had passed.
The screaming stopped as abruptly as it began.
Finally.
It had been annoying to listen to that woman's screams. My hand instinctively went up to my hair as I realized I was on the floor.
Strange.
