Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 42-4: My Ship Sails

DAY 42-4: MY SHIP SAILS

"We need to run," Leda hisses to Orian as soon as Valentina twirls on her toes and sashays out of the room. "Now."

  "I'll grab Master Ro," Orian whispers. "You head for the window."

Orian rises from her in a fluid movement, taking a bundle of clothes as he does. As soon as Avel's bright eyes shift to her, she's already darting for the door.

"Oh, Leda—"

Orian throws the clothes at his face, enough of it that it muffles his voice and he teeters over. He collides to the ground right as Orian dashes up the spiral staircase at the back of the room to grab Ro.

Once Leda reaches the entrance she swivels her head both ways, paying close attention to the princess's fading footsteps down the hall. Part of her doesn't want to run into an unfamiliar place like an idiot—let alone into company after her very head. But that's the least of her concern when one of said people 'after her head' is none other than the prince of Hearts.

They can't stay here. Whether they try their hand at escaping or staying within this room, they're trapped so long as they're wanted fugitives.

Dammit, she curses. Why does this have to happen right when things were starting to look up?

It's due to her momentary hesitation she barely realizes Avel has circled in front of her. Leda lurches back, heart leaping to her throat, as he tugs the clothes entangling his face. She grits her teeth, readying a defensive stance.

"Master Leda!"

Orian's shrill cry for her well-being mirrors the tremor in her heart.

In only an instant, he teleports back to the main floor, Ro slung gingerly over his back. Though overwhelmed by his weight—proof being how he struggles to keep him upright whilst ensuring he doesn't injure him further—he trudges to Leda's side.

But it's too late. Avel snatches hold of her forearm, at a strength impossible to pry from. Leda's stomach bottoms out. The prospect of squaring off against him—the guy who'd given her so much hope—ebbs at her, she knows she doesn't have the leisure to be reluctant. Solidifying her resolve, she makes the movement to kick him—

"My love."

The gentle call stalls her attack. His meek smile and tender expression that's exposed when he yanks off the last piece of fabric sends shockwaves of surprise through her. There isn't a drop of malice. Nor does he make any indication of wanting to come for them.

"You have nothing to worry about," he continues, softly.

Leda can't muster her voice for a while—merely gawps alongside Orian who's also screeched to a halt.

"Y-you don't care?" Leda stammers, the words practically sticking in her throat.

"Care?" Releasing her arm, Avel knocks his head to the side in confusion.

"That we're your enemy!" she shouts. That if you cross the Queen, you'll die!

The last bit hangs on the tip of her tongue.