Chapter Forty Six

Raphael realised he hadn't moved for the duration of the song, too infatuated by the hypnotic pull. The feeling stayed long after he noticed Maria was unresponsive.

When he, at last, sobered up, he felt sick, as if worry had sucker-punched him and stolen his ability to speak.

Sir Lucian kneeled to her, unfazed by the situation, and gently rolled her over. Her eyes were open, occasional blinks being her only response.

The jewels, once again, lost their overwhelming glow, replaced by a dull comparison that continued to throb like a heartbeat. At first, he seemed happy, but as the moment lingered, the knighted man frowned, pressing a finger against Maria's neck and the other against the jewel of the pendant. He yelled out in annoyance as he shoved Maria's body away and stood up, stomping about in sheer anger as he yelled foreign phrases Raphael couldn't understand.

Suddenly he was able to move. The worry churned to anger as he shuffled further back and threw his arms as high up as he could, and sliced part of the rope on the knight's sword. The sudden motioned surprised the knight as he attempted to retract his sword, inhibiting Raphael from cutting the rope properly. But something snapped in his restraints, and he could free himself.

When he was free, the knight held a fighting stance. Raphael froze at the sight of it, a silver knight holding a sword ready to stab him. He heard Anita gulp as she rolled to her feet and stood.

The knight attacked, leading with the blade. Raphael side-stepped it and raised his leg to stomp on the hand of the knight. His foot ached from the metal, but it was strong enough to disarm the knight. Raphael followed this up with a kick to the side, throwing the man off and away from the sword. The other knights armed themselves, some with spears and others with blades, and approached him slowly.

Anita was on the ground, running her wrists close to the discarded sword. Raphael picked it up, sliced through the ropes and held it at the threats. He was outnumbered.

His jaw clenched as he held an arm out to Anita, "Ann, get behind me."

Anita obeyed, standing behind him as half a dozen knights approached them with pointed weapons. Raphael gulped as the duo came to the edge of the platform, unsure what to do, as he took a daring glance down to the black water.

"Raphael…" Anita whimpered. Her heels were on the very edge.

Raphael stopped backing away, still holding the sword out to the knights like the arms of a clock. Sir Lucian was still angrily yelling despite the situation, ignoring Raphael's attempted to escape while Maria grumbled and sat up.

"You're okay!" Raphael called out.

A knight yelled out as he swung his sword. Raphael barely managed to block it. The metal on metal screeched as he threw the knight's attempt aside. The other knights followed suit, swinging their swords and stabbing around both Anita and Raphael.

Maria groaned as she held her head, the jewels slowly losing their glow until they turned a deep black-green as if they died. Before she could recover, Sir Lucian snatched her forearms and forced her to stand, his fingers digging into her skin and forced a groan of pain.

"What witchcraft is this?" he hissed.

Maria was groggy. "What…?"

"You didn't do the music correctly. That must be it," Sir Lucian spat as he let her go. He appeared agitated as he paced, muttering to himself before grabbing the violin and bow and forcing them into Maria's hands again. "Play it again!"

"What do you want-"

"Play it again!" he commanded.

Raphael blocked another sword, but the force disarmed him as it clattered with an ugly sound. The assault continued. He made a daring charge, leaning away from the blade and striking the hands and wrists. With the metal hand plates, his fingers and palms started throbbing as the knight dropped his sword. Unable to deflect another, he felt a sharp pain in his upper arm. He gasped and recoiled, a dark blue stain spreading down the sleeve of his jacket.

Anita squealed.

His head darted to find her as she was forced to the ground at spear-point.

"No!" He attempted to run to her but was held back.

Maria sobered up again when Anita yelled out. Seeing them in distress, she attempted to run over. Sir Lucian snatched her arm, his grip so tight it trembled. "Play it again." He spoke through his teeth.

"Let me go," Maria countered with a similar tone.

"I will not have the work centuries in the making be undone because of a stupid little girl. Now play it!"

"I won't!" She attempted to kick him, but his armour endured most of the force. Her attempted assault was met with a violent grab as Sir Lucian grabbed both her arms and forced her to face him. His strength overwhelmed hers as her hands started going hold, and holding the instrument became difficult.

"You will do what I tell you, or you will have blood on your hands." His voice was low as he forced her to face Raphael and Anita.

Raphael managed to free himself in time to throw himself over Anita. "Don't hurt her!" Raphael demanded, grabbing the spear. Its sharp edge dug into his hand; the force of trying to keep it from impaling him made them both tremble as blood dripped on the ground.

The knight leaned on his spear, determined to skewer Raphael. Still leaning over Anita, he was forced backwards over her, his other hand aiding his first to keep the spear away from his face.

"No! Wait, stop!" Maria attempted to run but was still caught in Sir Lucian's arms.

"Play the song properly, and I'll call them off." Sir Lucian released one of her arms.

Maria's breath was laboured as a panic enveloped her. "Please… I can't…"

"For this to work, the blood of the Royal must wear the jewellery while the hex is called. Now do it properly, or your friends die," Sir Lucian stated, his orange eyes intensifying.

Anita attempted to crawl away but was met with other swords and cowered back under Raphael.

Tears were forced in his eye as the spear continued slicing through his hand, both hands slipping down the handle. The tip pressed against his nose. Raphael felt himself sweating as he started to strain. He attempted to kick at the knight but couldn't reach him.

Maria started to cry as she desperately pleaded with Sir Lucian, "Please! Just let them go! I'm not who you think I am. I can't do what you need me to!"

"Play, Lost Royal!" Sir Lucian commanded.

"The Lost Royal is dead!" Maria screeched.

The sentence stole all sound from the floor, the weight gradually dawning on everyone as Maria continued. "I'm not the Lost Royal… She's been dead for almost ten years." Maria cried as she fell to her knees, Sir Lucian releasing her out of shock.

The knight had eased the tension off Raphael, who wasn't paying attention to the threat anymore.

Maria had told him it was a misunderstanding with her childhood friend. Was she lying then, or was she lying now? Raphael looked to the Queen, who had even fallen silent and staring with wide and surprisingly sad eyes.

Sir Lucian grabbed Maria by the back of her dress and forced her to stand. "What are you getting at, girl?"

Maria spluttered, her eyes red as she glared up at him. "The Lost Royal died from an unknown illness a few weeks from turning ten years old." Maria sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling away from Sir Lucian's grip and ripping off the crown. "The night she died, she gave me this pendant, the violin and the sheet music as a gift because we were friends. Someone found me with the pendent and recognised the symbol and spent a lifetime trying to figure out if it belonged to the Parisian Royals." Maria wiped away the streaks on her cheeks and looks at Queen Elizabeth. "A woman knows her daughter… I'm so sorry, Miss."

Raphael watched the Queen's gaze slowly drop to the ground. He wondered if it was because Maria wasn't her daughter or that her daughter was potentially dead.

Raphael managed to sit up, pressing his hands against his pants to suppress his bleeding as he watched Maria compose herself. "So there," she said, "Your scheme can't work." She shoved the crown against Sir Lucian's chest, "No one knows my heritage, but this weird hexed jewellery proves I'm not bloody Royalty."

A shadow cast over Sir Lucian's face as he held the crown in place. A sinister air seemed to surround him as his fingers curled around the crown. "Well…" he snatched her hand and yanked the ring off her finger, "That explains some things then, I suppose." He pulled the necklace off her and turned his back on her. Raphael watched as other guards restrained Maria. "Our Unknown Royal is unable to take over adult bodies that aren't blood. The average mind is too sturdy to allow a foreign personality to take over. Blood allows a different connection for one reason or another."

Sir Lucian seemed puzzled, almost sick, as he wondered what he should do. "Why don't you just do it yourself?" Maria sniffed, "If you want this hex to work so badly, just let it work on you."

The knight ignored Maria to begin pacing, at times pressing the pendent to his forehead or resting the crown against his own head.

Raphael gulped as he looked down at his hands, still bleeding. The shock of the problem still lingered amongst the Unknown Royals, allowing him to stand without any fear of being skewered.

Suddenly, Sir Lucian lifted his head, and his eyes lit up, "Bring me the thief."

Confused, Raphael was lifted from the ground and forced towards Sir Lucian, who was made to kneel.

"Raphael!" Anita attempted to follow him but was pulled away. She continued to call out to him, clearly distressed.

"It's okay!" Raphael attempted, "I'm okay. We'll get this all sorted quickly, Ann." He didn't believe his own words but hoped he was telling the truth.

With his arms still restrained, he couldn't move away from Sir Lucian when he leaned in close. "You've worn the ring," he commented, the jewellery coming to life upon approach to Raphael, "Perhaps it will work on you." Raphael felt a lump form in his throat, remembering the burning feeling on his finger from the ring, "Granted, I doubt your blood. But you showed the most promise of change supposedly."

"How could you possibly know?" Raphael quizzed. He had little doubt the ring brought out the worst in him, at least little doubt now, yet at the same time, he knew that was just the worst side of him. Was that all the jewels did? Simply make you evil? Spiteful?

"We have eyes everywhere, thief," he reminded. "Today may be your lucky day. You get to be crowned King."

"I'd rather not. Too much responsibility."

"I don't think you have a choice." Sir Lucian tried to crown Raphael, but he managed to dodge the attempts. He ducked his head down or sidewards before his head was forced still by another knight.

"Crowns really don't suit me," Raphael commented, for a split-second, wondering where his fedora went.

Sir Lucian was losing his patience as he forced the crown on Raphael's head. Growing up, he had always wondered what it felt like to wear a crown. He asked if it made a man feel powerful by association or tightly fitted, making those who wore them grouchy and prone to headaches. But when he wore the crown, he was remarkably underwhelmed. It was heavy, heavier than a regular hat, and the gold was cold against his skull. He didn't feel the power, the glamour of wearing a crown. He just felt the weight of it. On the edge of his vision, he saw something glow green again and felt a similar heat to his hand around his head, the feverish feeling travelling down his back. The sudden temperature change shocked him as he hunched over. "Oh, God…"

He attempted to shake it off but was soon distracted by the placement of the pendant. He could barely hear anything as a buzzing seemed to vibrate in his ears and his chest. Breathing became difficult as he tried not to sway as the world became blurry. He desperately searched for the edge of the cliff, wanting to throw the jewels off the edge. But his eyes couldn't focus on it. Eventually, he was unable to find it. His hand was forced to rise as he was ringed.

"Gentlemen, I do think this is unnecessary…" his words became choked as the ring was forced back on his finger. He felt a vein pop in his hand and a strange warmth run up his arm and into his chest, only to extend outwards to his other hand with similar uncomfortable heat. The jewel, once again, glowed a bright jade colour.

He didn't notice Sir Lucian standing in front of him, almost holding him up. Raphael's vision remained blurry. He wanted to throw up, pass out, attack something, cry, do everything and anything whilst at the same time stay perfectly still to ease nausea running through him.

His throat became dry, and despite him swearing, he felt cold. He felt as if he was underwater, in every physical way possible. His limbs felt sluggish, his vision was blurry, and while he could hear things, they appeared muffled. Everything was slow and sickeningly swirled.

Let me out…

The words were slow, precise and deep.

Release me now…

Raphael didn't think he could hear them; instead, he was thinking of them.

I will not be encased in this prison any longer!

The voice was getting louder, and Raphael's body became heavier and hotter. It felt as if something were pressing against the inside of his head. The pressure was hard to push against, and Raphael suddenly felt fatigued the harder the invisible force pushed.

Sir Lucian seemed to be losing patience with him as he took his shoulders and held his stare. Raphael was only able to focus on his eyes due to their odd colour. "It's not working…" Raphael managed to hear. He suddenly came very close and spoke in such a low manner Raphael could somehow listen to it. "You are a child… a mere boy," detested Sir Lucian, "You just hold yourself at this controlled level, and for what? For who?" He rose from his kneel and circled Raphael, who could not follow him due to nausea. "Certainly not your Father, who left you without a trace, or your mother who died when you were young." He came back into Raphael's view and paused, slight amusement rippling in his face. In a sly, quieter tone, he added, "And certainly not Maria who made you lose your only love, Anita."

Raphael gritted his teeth and somehow found the strength to stand, no matter how wobbly. Sir Lucian stood out of reach of him, deliberately so, as he continued in a louder voice, "So for who then? Yourself? What a pitiful façade." Raphael felt something hit his shoulder lightly, and he stumbled back, feeling as if he would be sick again. "You portray yourself as this well-mannered gentleman, but deep down, I know what you are." Raphael felt something press against his chest, "In an entirety, you are resentful-"

Push.

"Manipulative-"

Push.

"And Angry."

Raphael was knocked off his feet.

"So terribly angry."

Raphael couldn't find the energy to sit up. He forced himself deep breaths like his mother had before she played, or how his Father did does when he needs to refresh himself. Past foggy nausea and the pain which rose in his chest and made him want to give in to these strange feelings bubbling in his stomach, Raphael laid there, slowly breathing, trying to ease the sickness away.

Sir Lucian grew impatient as he took a moment to steady his resolve before squatting down beside the eerily calm looking thief. "And it's okay to be," he continued, "You've been given quite the unfortunate circumstance in your life. But you feel you can't blame the world or even the people who have abandoned you. But you can, boy. You should."

"We won't judge you, my boy," Sir Lucian's words were cold but true, "None of us will. We understand; in fact, we're willing to help you. Just give in to your hate, your grief, your anger. Let it all come out, boy. Unbottle it."

Raphael felt his head begin to clear, found it easier to take in the man's words, but that feeling still rested in his stomach. Anger began to manifest, a type Raphael didn't think he could ever honestly muster in himself. For Sir Lucian was right, Raphael was angry.

Angry to the point of tears.

To the point where he loathed those who wronged him.

And to counterbalance his hatred, he wondered if he had manipulated the people he surrounded himself with. The Benji clan, the street thieves, the Sisters, the police, Detective Riley, Sam, even Maria and Anita, fooling himself that he was capable of being intelligent, kind, generous, cunning, cheeky. He was able to make people care about him and see him as someone worth sticking around for.

But resting at the bottom of his heart, he knew he hated them all.

And he couldn't understand why.