|[ The Soul Reaper - 2 ]| [UNDERGOING EDITING]

Chapter 6 // Fleeing

Imelda began laughing like mad person, throwing her head back so her hair waved wildly behind her. People watched on, unsure of how to act. I glared at her, knowing exactly how I wanted to act. I didn't care that everyone watched on, didn't care that I was only proving to them that I was to be locked up – I only cared about clawing Imelda's dark eyes out of her pretty face. I pushed past the last line of people, not deterred by the fact I had no weapons on me. Before anyone realised what was about to happen it was too late – Imelda didn't even try to stop me. I tackled her to the ground, pinning her beneath me. I heard her dress tear, heard her laughter hitch for one moment at the impact of falling before it continued.

"You bitch!" I screamed, "You did this! You planned this!" I tried to claw at her face, tried to rip her throat out. I just wanted her dead – if she died, everything would be fine again, I just knew it would be. She grinned up at me, easily pushing me off her. We both climbed to our feet, her managing to be far more graceful than me, even in a dress.

"No, no I didn't plan for that to happen, but boy was it entertaining!" she giggled happily. I bared my teeth at her and clawed for her neck. She wrestled me back to the ground, her dress tearing even further, before she managed to get her feet underneath my chest and kick me back. I stumbled backwards a bit, almost falling over. Claude appeared behind me, catching me before I fell. But he didn't let me go quick enough. I began to shake him off.

"Let go of me!" I snapped, trying to have another go at Imelda who was picking herself off the ground, dusting down the now ruined wedding dress. Claude gripped my shirt tighter, wrapping one arm around my waist.

"Irene," Claude whispered in my ear in a low voice, "You have already been wrongly accused of trying to kill the king. Let's not have you rightfully accused of managing to kill the queen."

"She's evil, and you know it!" I spat, not caring that everyone was watching and listening.

"And she's the queen!" Claude snapped, "Which means if she wants it, she'll have it."

"She can bring all she's got," I snapped back, "She just killed Cedric." I pointed at her. "You're a murderer! You planned all of this!" I felt like a child bawling, throwing a tantrum at not getting my way. But I was right, I was right!

"Actually Abbadon's did that," Imelda interrupted, "But I could see where you go confused." Behind us the entire crowd watched with bated breath, confused out of their wits as to what had just happened before them, and yet wrapped up in it anyway.

"But you were going to kill him!" I continued, spitting, "You were planning on poisoning him!"

"Im offended," Imelda said, gasping though her lips were curled up in a smile, "Guards, please take them away. And Claude, please get out of my dress. Men shouldn't wear dresses." People mutter in agreement around us. Claude looked unabashed.

"I look fabulous." Claude said without any embarrassment. He grabbed my wrist and began pulling me away. The guards just watched us go, confused as to what to do, Claude still wearing that bloody dress.

"You realise," I breathed, "That if we have to start running, you're going to have to take that dress off."

"A sad but true statement." Claude agreed, "No doubt everyone present will tell their friends about it. This dress will live on in the memory of..." he was cut off as Imelda lost the last of her patience, all signs of glee gone.

"I said take them away! Grab them you fools!" the guards shrugged – they couldn't say no to their queen – and stepped into a circle around us. Claude sighed and began peeling the dress off.

"Are you serious?" I cried, "You're getting changed now?" he nodded, smoothly stepping out of the dress. Thankfully he wore trousers underneath.