Klaus dropped to his knees.
The rope wasn't just suppressing his magic—it was draining it, slowly, relentlessly. After everything he'd already taken trying to protect the others, there was almost nothing left.
He tried to stand.
His legs gave out.
So he did the only thing he still could.
He lifted his head—
and looked at Abel.
Not with fear.
With hatred.
—
Abel stood in front of him, feet planted wide, hands clasped behind his back.
The warmth from dinner was gone.
What remained was arrogance.
And satisfaction.
"I've wanted to see this for a long time," he said quietly. "You on your knees."
A smile.
"Now you'll finally learn to respect me."
"Take this rope off," Klaus rasped, "and we'll see which one of us kneels."
Abel tilted his head.
Amused.
"Brother… I worked hard to get you into it. That alone feels like a victory."
"You?" Klaus let out a dry, broken laugh. "When your dogs grabbed me, you were hiding in the corner—shaking."
Rage flashed.
Abel stepped forward.
The whip came down.
It tore across Klaus's back.
Fire exploded under his skin.
Klaus bit down hard—
forced the scream into a breath that came out as a hiss.
No.
He wouldn't give him that.
He lifted his head again.
"A whip?" he said hoarsely. "You're highborn—and you use a slave's tool."
A crooked smile.
"You look like a kennel master."
"Shut up!"
The whip struck again.
Across his chest—
catching his face—
splitting skin from cheek to jaw.
Klaus's head snapped sideways.
Warm blood ran down his face.
He collapsed.
"Get up!" Abel shouted. "I'm not done with you. Hang him!"
Two soldiers dragged him upright.
Forced him toward the wall.
They hesitated.
"My lord… his arms—"
One tried anyway.
White-hot pain exploded through Klaus's shoulders.
His body folded instantly—
a strangled sound tearing from his throat.
"Leave him," Abel snapped. "When he passes out, we'll hang him."
They dropped him.
He slid down the wall.
Breathing hard.
—
"What do you want?" Klaus asked. "To kill me? Break me? Humiliate me?"
"All of it," Abel said. "I want you begging."
"For what? A seat? Land?"
A breath.
"Is it really worth this?"
Abel shrugged.
"I enjoy it."
Klaus studied him.
"You've always needed someone to tell you what to do."
A pause.
"You've never decided anything on your own."
Another.
"Unlike August."
"Don't say his name!"
The whip cracked again.
Klaus tasted blood.
"You're pathetic," he said.
Abel closed the distance and punched him.
Pain burst through his face—
and Abel screamed.
"I broke my hand! Damn you—what are you made of?"
He kicked him.
Hard.
"Get a healer!" he shouted.
—
While they waited, Abel stormed to the table and swept the branding irons to the floor in a fit of rage. Metal clanged loudly against stone.
He dropped into the chair, clutching his hand, breathing hard.
Klaus turned his head—
and saw it.
A knife.
Small.
Sharp.
Exactly where it hadn't been before.
No one reacted.
Which meant—
it hadn't fallen.
Someone had placed it.
For him.
—
Hope flared.
Dangerous.
Klaus shifted.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every movement deliberate.
Until his fingers brushed the blade.
His hands were bound behind his back.
Only the tips of his fingers could move.
He hooked it.
Pulled.
Started cutting.
Slow.
Painful.
Fiber by fiber—
—
Footsteps.
He froze.
Forced his hands back.
Slumped.
Breathing unevenly.
Just as the healer entered.
—
The man hesitated.
Between Abel—
and the blood-soaked heir.
"Why does it hurt so much? Give me something!" Abel snapped.
The healer chose correctly.
Went to him first.
The guards stayed near the door.
—
Klaus assessed the room.
No weapons.
Too far.
Too many.
Too weak.
The knife—
barely enough.
—
"And what's your plan?" Klaus said quietly. "After you're done playing offended princess?"
"Shut up."
"Going to break your other hand?"
"It isn't broken!"
"Right. Your face just isn't used to hitting something solid."
"You're still mocking me?" Abel snapped.
"Yes."
Abel's face twisted.
"Before you die," he hissed, "I'll humiliate you so badly the whole kingdom will remember it."
Klaus smiled faintly.
"Do you even have the imagination for that?"
—
That did it.
Abel shoved the healer aside.
Grabbed the whip—
and lunged.
Exactly what Klaus needed.
—
Too close.
The whip came down—
aimed at his face.
Klaus caught it.
The leather tore into his palm—
he didn't let go.
Abel froze.
Klaus pulled.
Hard.
Abel stumbled—
lost balance—
fell forward.
At his feet.
—
For a single second—
they were face to face.
Abel's eyes widened.
Real fear.
Klaus smiled.
Grabbed his hair—
and slammed his face into the stone.
The crack was sickening.
Abel screamed.
Blood poured instantly.
—
"Back up," Klaus said, pressing a weak current into his neck. "If you want him alive."
"Back!" Abel choked. "All of you—back!"
—
Klaus forced himself up.
Every muscle shaking.
Barely standing.
He dragged Abel with him.
Toward the door.
"Move."
Abel moved.
—
As they passed the guards, one muttered:
"He won't get far upstairs. Too many guards. Unless he uses the passage behind the dragon tapestry."
"Shut up," the other hissed.
Klaus didn't look.
But he remembered.
—
The corridor was empty.
They hadn't expected resistance.
Good.
—
"Wrong way," Abel said weakly. "The exit's the other—"
Klaus tightened his grip.
Silence.
—
The passage led outside.
Hidden.
Illegal.
Useful.
Giro broke rules when it benefited him.
—
They emerged through a concealed exit.
Even Klaus couldn't find it again once they were out.
He needed a weapon.
He had a knife.
And almost no magic.
He would get his katana back.
No matter what.
—
"I can't walk," Abel gasped. "Where are you taking me?"
Klaus didn't answer.
He didn't know.
—
They reached a lone tree surrounded by low mounds.
Not safe.
But enough.
Klaus let go.
Abel collapsed immediately.
Klaus slid down against the trunk.
—
"Don't try anything," he said quietly. "I don't need to touch you to kill you."
"I'm not stupid."
"Are you sure?"
Silence.
—
"You wanted to humiliate me," Klaus said. "Look at you now."
"I hate you!" Abel burst out.
"For what?"
A pause.
"Besides imagined insults?"
—
Abel hesitated.
Then—
spoke.
"You humiliated me."
"I tried to get close to you. You ignored me."
His voice shook.
"You only ever saw August."
A breath.
"Even after he died—you still ignored me."
"I don't remember humiliating you."
"Your indifference was humiliation!" Abel snapped. "They laughed at me. Said I wasn't worthy of standing beside you."
"And that's my fault?"
Klaus exhaled.
"I'm not sociable. If you haven't noticed."
"You don't understand!" Abel shouted. "You were born with everything! I had to fight for scraps—attention, approval—anything!"
A breath.
"If the heir acknowledged me, it would've meant something."
A pause.
"But you chose him."
His voice twisted.
"August."
—
"August…" Klaus said quietly,
remembering the first time he met him—
when he was five.