Thieves: Chapter 17

Fiction By Elizabeth Anne // 3/20/2013

Haige coughed lightly and paced the room, cursing his own choice to keep it dark. A little light would be welcome right now in a room inhabited only by a dead body. It seriously scared Haige at times, especially since it had been him who had killed the original occupant. The smell of death was everywhere, covered by a rosy perfume that only made the smell of sickness and death more sickly-sweet.
It was his constant attachment to this room that gave Haige that same smell as well as a constant presence of sickness. He did not care for the contents, inhabitants, or smell of the room very much. What he did care about was the mountains of gold and the ability to rule the world. That was something to live for. That was something to kill for.
Eventually, Haige would have to tell Arandrei that their beloved king was dead, but not until all of the king’s heir were dead as well. At the moment the princess, Kaisten, was the only member of the royal family left. Seeing as she was missing, Haige was determined to seize this opportunity to secure his position as ruler of the known world.
It would not be easy, Haige knew that, but he had worked hard over the past several years to secure the people’s hate and then casually brush it off onto the king. Their undying loyalty to their hatred of the king and his supposed greediness, pride, and selfishness uncomplicated the situation a slight bit. The fact that it was all a lie caused slightly more complication.
Still pacing the room, Haige was forced to stop in his steps as he bent over in a coughing fit. He couldn’t seem to control it, and he began to get dizzy. Reaching out, Haige steadied himself on the nearest piece of furniture he could find. Slowly, oh so slowly, he calmed himself and stopped coughing.
As soon as he could see straight, Haige glanced around in an attempt to decipher where he had ended up in his blind fit. Glancing down, he immediately withdrew his hand in disgust, realizing that he had grasped onto the dead king’s hand. He wiped his own hand on his vest, covering his mouth in extensive disgust that filled the air in the room. He wished that he had chosen another room from which to rule the world. However, he knew that it would be completely impossible to go about his business from a servants’ room. No, a king’s room, even a dead king’s room, was required to rule the world; and rule the world, Haige would.


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