At His Majesty's Pleasure

As it occurred to her to make use of her nails, the feeling in her limbs began to numb away. How strange - she could still feel the pain of the dagger wound, where she had never been cut before, searing like some sort of concentrated burn. Had she been poisoned? Her nails dug into the back of his hand, muffled cries turning into muffled whimpers as it was rapidly becoming impossible to breathe. His hand was stifling the air from her.

How many minutes and seconds it took for her hands to fall limply to her sides, she had no way of counting. Someone - someone would come - and take her away from this man, whoever he was. Her vision blurred, a sea of darkness washing over her. This was a nightmare.

As her limbs grew heavy, her captor's grip seemed to relax. It felt like she was being carried, though the care with which she was being handled could only be a bizarre contrast to the violence just inflicted.

Distantly, she heard people speaking.

"The play. It was almost over when we left?" The Duke's voice, curt and commanding.

"Yes, Your...Yes. They were on their last act, I believe."

"Good. Go back. Rush them through it, if it isn't already over. Skip a few scenes if necessary...Then lead them back here."

They were walking somewhere, and she was being set down. A million questions ran through her mind, all the more frantic because she could feel herself losing the ability to process them. What could possibly have possessed him, this lowly duke, to think he could get away with kidnapping the princess? Did he think nothing of her grandfather's retaliation? What of that of his own Obsivian King, who was certainly not known for his mercy? Was he involved? Was this the plan all along - and had everything been a farce?

Alais clung to but a few more wavering strands of almost-consciousness, the voices drifting to and fro as the poison consumed her.

"And should I alert the others? I can be discreet."

"No. Leave them behind."

"But - "

"Leave them."

A murmur of compliance, and then the rustle of someone departing. In the cool of the night, where it was quiet again, the dulled sensation of grass tickled at her back, her blood yet seeping into the ruined fabric of her sleeve.

A gentle hand removed her mask, and from some distant point, the Duke's face looked down upon her own. She stirred, cold and pained, until the image of him gazing down seemed to ripple through the haze of her lashes. The sight was enough to send tension through her body, her limbs intent on struggling anew - but that feeling of dull nothingness was pulling her down, further and further, sapping her of all strength and ability to move. She was utterly helpless to stop him as he reached down, stroking her cheek with a finger, and brushing her hair aside. As his gaze traced her features, she could have sworn he appeared almost admiring - with the look of a man who had his hands on some ill-gotten treasure.

Then there was nothing but the darkness again.

*****

Authors: Hope you enjoyed that setup so far! So a little bit about this story - it's the result of a post-by-post collaboration by the two of us (one of us would write for each character). We actually have about ten chapters' worth already written, but it just takes a lot of time/effort to edit the material in a way that narratively makes sense. So if this is something you want to see more, please weigh in and let us know whether we should continue! We'd love to know what you think of the story and characters so far too. :D