When Love Runs Red

When Love Runs Red:: Chapter Seventeen

Copyright © 2012: Letitia Van Herck. All Rights Reserved

                                             When Love Runs Red

 

                                                Chapter Seventeen

Stanley was painfully on edge as Michael paced callously around the dining room. Indeed it was odd to say that one was pacing callously. For how did one pace in such a way? But there had always been a cruel, coldness in everything his brother did. He never had to remind himself that Michael should never be trusted.  Yet as of late he found he looked upon him with a sort of mild admiration. He had to disclose that the near disposal of Dante had shaken up the Kingdom, and despite the fact that they were indeed hunting down the person responsible there had been no leads as of yet. He had covered it up with ample care.

          “What brings you to my home?” Stanley asked his tone unkind. No reply sounded from his brother’s lips. Instead he walked up to the wooden dining table – still filled with the breakfast meal – and picked up a flagon of wine. Pouring wine into a metal glass he proceeded to ignore Stanley’s question. Once full he raised the glass to his lips and let a gulp of the crimson red liquid run down his throat. A devilish smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes gleaming, as he tapped at the glass.

           “Can’t one visit his only brother without such misgivings?” Michael replied, that condescending smirk still placed upon his face. 

           “Normally I’d say nay, but your visits tend to leave about many misfortunes,” Stanley retorted bitterly, his voice almost a primitive growl. The corner of Michael’s mouth twitched, his eyes glistening as though promising an inmate threat. He chuckled then seeming almost mad, before taking another gulp of his wine and setting the glass down.

         “Well, brother, I come bearing good news,” He retorted, resting against the cane in his hand. It had always infuriated him at how well dressed his brother seemed to be. It was as though he flaunted his money purposely to spite others – especially Stanley. But then his brother had always been a spiteful man.

         “What good news would this be?” Stanley replied, curiosity itching across his skin. He could not help but wonder what his brother had planned. He had no doubt it would be utter cruel madness, as Michael had very little regard for others. At that precise moment an image of his fare Frey merged at the foremost of his mind. He could never tell his brother of her existence, for he was certain Frey would be a victim of great misfortune.

           “Well,” his brother began, tapping his cane against the floor as though to draw about more attention, “My spy within the Queen's Palace says there is to be a ball, dear brother. And we all know balls are a grand opportunity to put things into motion. I like to believe that with every joy comes a trickling of madness – especially in events such as these.”

           Stanley’s brow drew together. If suspicion hadn’t been present strongly before, it certainly was now. He had no recent logic of a spy being within the castle. On the contrary having a spy so close to the enemy was incredibly foolish and painstakingly risky. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he met his brother’s gaze levelly.

            “Spy? I have heard no news of a spy!” Stanley barked out, all collected manner lost on him, “It is foolish. Did you not sit and think, brother, of the substantial consequences your actions might bring. What if this ‘spy’ were to be caught or discovered if you will? The whole operation would be left shattered. It would all be over in mere hours and we’d all be dead!”