Page 185 of The Last Guardian

“Did I show disrespect when it was your sword that caused the blood of my companions to flow?” the first man asked. “And she’s not my queen.”

I made an effort to get a better view of the man but failed.

“Majesty,” said another voice I didn’t recognize. “Please follow me, I need to show you…”

The voice drifted away as I saw my mother following the person. I tried to move forward, to follow them, but my body hit the carriage violently. Someone pressed against me, pinning me. “It’s perfect! Exactly what we’re looking for,” a man murmured to another person, his breath tickling my eardrum.

“Hurry up, the queen will come back in a minute,” another replied.

“She smells so good. Can’t you smell it? The blood, the appeal.”

“Don’t taste her, idiot. Braz will find out and kill you on the spot,” the second cautioned.

“Yes, but right now, her blood seems more alluring than my dread of Brazen’s fury.”

In a panic, I shouted out, hoping someone would come to my aid. Anyone.

“You fucking brat, shut the fuck up,” one of the men said, covering my mouth.

“Kill her!” the other demanded.

“She’s not yours to take, Hector,” a dark voice said.

The man who had grabbed me, Hector, let go of me and stepped aside.

I found myself face to face with a man who—I was sure of it—had once been handsome. His features were strikingly beautiful on one side. But on the other were… scars.

His long black hair fell over one shoulder, the other side shaved up to his scalp. One eye was a vivid emerald, while the other was a deep crimson, like a glimpse of death itself.

He was one of the most terrifying people I’d ever seen.

“Pardon me, Brazen,” Hector said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “She smelled so good.”

Brazen glanced at me, his eyes filled with contempt.

My breath caught; my heartbeat pounded.

“It’s such a pity to take down a creature like you,” Brazen said, edging closer, “especially when I know precisely who you are.”

Terror overwhelmed me. Paralyzing me. My blood, my body, no longer obeyed me.

“The Deathly Father told us. You must die so the monster can be destroyed,” Brazen continued, devoid of any expression. Any emotion at all.

“I’m pretty sure you have mistaken me for someone else, sir.” I tried to move, but my terror kept me in place. It apparently didn’t freeze my tongue. “I’m not waiting for anyone—not a monster, a man, or anything in between. Maybe your little spirit friend in your mind can give you a better indication.”

One of the men scoffed.

Brazen scowled at him, but his eyes remained on me. “I would have loved to watch him squirm under your sharp tongue,” Brazen said with a smirk.

I frowned, opening my mouth to ask, but⁠—

A heat gripped my throat before I could ask.

I gasped, my lungs clawing for air—but none came. Breathe, I couldn’t breathe.

A metallic taste touched my tongue. A cold crept into my veins—freezing me from the inside.

My body—it slipped. I fell to the ground.