The Mist and the Lightning. Part 11. Ви Корс
left you.”
Verniy began to polish the candlestick slightly smoked with a candle.
Kors went out.
A few hours later, closer to the evening, he again disturbed the prince. There were now three candles burning in the room in shining candlesticks, wax dripping again onto the freshly cleaned surface. Arel was lying on the bed on top of the covers on his side, he got up when he saw Kors again. Verniy thundered with basins in the adjoining room.
“Prince Arel, I apologize for disturbing you,” Kors began.
“Yes?” Arel straightened the hair that fell on his face, obscuring the anyway narrow slits for his eyes.
“I found a little new in the office, really. Apparently, your Nikto or Lis have already searched everything and got what you need. But I still wanted to look at some of the maps, but they are closed in tubes and I need a key. Key-seal to open the tube,” Kors lifted the metal cylinder he had brought with him, beautifully engraved.
“Hm…” Arel drawled in confusion, “I don't remember where it is. Nik opened something with them, yes…”
“I hope he didn't take it with him?”
“I don’t think so… probably, it is somewhere here,” Arel looked around in confusion.
“You don't take off your mask at all now, Arel? Do you even sleep in it?” Kors asked again. He took a few steps towards the prince, and Verniy appeared on the threshold of the room. Ver only glanced at frozen Kors, and walked past him, carrying a bucket of water in his hands. He put the bucket in the corner of the room.
“I’ll look for it,” Arel said, “and…”
“Okay,” Kors looked a little nervously at the unclean man who was now standing behind him, “when you find it, bring it to me, please. I don’t want to see this one again!”
He backed towards the door. Verniy poured water on the floor and took a rag.
“Here, I brought it,” Arel said hesitantly and handed Kors a box with a key-seal in it.
In the room where Vitor Kors stayed there were several bottles of wine and a heap of papers on the table. He himself was sitting in an armchair, looking at the plan of the Riverside village. But when he saw Arel, he jumped up sharply, and in two steps approached the prince who was frozen on the threshold, snatched the box from his hand, while the other simultaneously slammed the door behind Arel.
“Let's talk without your dog, eh, prince?” He said quickly and angrily. “I've been waiting for this all day!” And he hit Arel in the stomach will all his power, forcing him to bend over.
“Kors, no!” Arel wheezed, not trying to fight back. It was as if it was not at his Estate, but in the office of the King's Security Chief.
“No?!” Kors hit him in the jaw, with a bang tore off the shield, which additionally closed the gap in the mask, made especially for the ring. Arel grabbed his face, covering the mask with his palms, closing the ring.
“Did you mock my daughter here? I know you very well! Did you cut off her hair?! What else did you do with her?”
Kors continued, although Arel still didn’t answer him, didn’t resist. Sitting on the floor and pressing his back against the wall, at some point under a hail of professional blows, he was forced to peel his palms off his face, but tried to cover his head with his hands.
Kors saw the ring:
“What the hell is that?!” He immediately reacted, tried to grab hold of him, but Arel managed to dodge.
“Kors, Nik will learn about this!” He cried in despair with anguish. “What should I do, Nik?! What should I do?”
And Kors stopped.
“Again you behave like a madman! Gods! You are completely sick, how could I forget! Get out!”
He opened the door, pushing Arel out, who didn’t even have time to get up. He slammed the door behind him. Throwing out the prince, Kors squeezed his temples in his hands and collapsed into a chair. He was shaking.
On stiff legs, Arel limped to his room. He entered like a somnambulist, without looking at Verniy, sat down on the bed. The shield from his mask remained at Kors. And Ver saw that Arel came without it, and his hair was tousled, and the buckle on his jacket was torn out with the roots and dangled on a piece of leather rag. The prince glanced at the unclean guiltily, looked away.
“Brush your hair,” Ver said to him in unclean language and pointed to the comb. Arel understood him, he obediently went to the mirror and sat down in front of it. He grabbed a hairbrush to smooth the tousled strands.
“Take off your jacket, it has to be sewn up,” Ver pointed to the jacket.
Arel uncomplainingly took off his jacket.
“Do you hear the owner? In your head? Do you hear him?” Ver knocked on his dog's head, trying to convey to the prince the meaning of the question.
“No, I don’t hear him,” Arel barely whispered, “I don’t hear you, Nik, forgive me.”
Ver went up to him to take the jacket, and Arel handed it to him. And Ver put the key on the table in front of Arel. It was the key to the part of the mask that covered his perforated cheek. Having opened the lock at the temple with the key, it was necessary to unfasten the buckle and remove the flap that covered the lacing.
By unlacing the slit in the mask, the hole could be opened. Arel raised his head in horror:
“No! No,” he whispered, “Nik, no.”
Ver, without another word, stepped away from the table. Sitting down in his place in the corner, he began to mend Arel’s jacket. With trembling fingers, Prince Arel took the key, there were tears in his eyes.
“Yes?” Kors distracted himself from the map, which he took out of the cylinder, using the seal. “Who's there? Valentine, is it you?”
And since there was silence outside the door, he swore and, coming up, sharply opened it.
Arel stood on the threshold, without a jacket, undressed to the waist, and Kors froze, a little dumbfounded, but quickly pulled himself together.
“Oh,” a pause followed, “do you want more, prince? Well, come in.”
Kors didn’t take his eyes off the thick ring protruding into the slit of the mask cut specially for it.
“Come in, come in.”
Arel took a step into the room, as if with an effort, his eyes were empty.
“Can't you forget our time with you?” Kors grinned, slapped Arel on the cheek so that his head dangled to the side.
“Well?” Kors looked expectantly. “Why are you only half undressed? Take everything off. As it should be.”
Arel clumsily began to pull down his pants with fingers clumsy like wooden, revealing a metal chastity belt.
Kors saw it. He saw his body covered in tattoos:
“Beautiful,” he said, “nothing can be said, it suits you. And what's that? A hole through which you can only pee? Oh, poor thing! So your lover chained you, was he afraid that you would cheat on him? Yes, you can. You are a slut of noble blood. You can't be left alone for a minute, right, Arel?”
Arel was silent.
“Well? You came so that I could put something in you, as you love. And where to? Wait,” Kors laughed, “or, judging by the way you stand, there is already something in your ass. You moron!”
Kors screamed and suddenly, going up to the table, knocked it over with a crash. Arel jumped to the side, but Kors had already grabbed him, pulled his hand:
“Where are you going? Stay, once you've come!”
He grabbed Arel, dragging him to the table, pushing on its leg, throwing his own leg over it. Arel tried to break free.
“Sit! Sit!” Kors shouted, and Arel froze. He stood with his back resting