Poisoned in Red

18:00

          "What do you mean?" she laughed, heartlessly.

          One look at her in the eyes was equivalent to a thousand words. He took a slow step towards her, opening his mouth to continue until she beat him to it. "Is that why you look so sad whenever we're together?"

          "Page 10 section 2: the massacre of a hundred nobles shall revive a dead soul," he stated as he stared straight into her soul. "The day we met—"

          "Cross," she called.

          He relaxed at the sound of her voice. "The day we met, you were on that list."

          In that instant her skin ashened, her brain desperately scrambling to make sense of it all, rendered speechless.

          Through gritted teeth, he finished, "But your parents—the 99th and 100th—were already on the ground for me."

          A gust of cold wind blew her hair away from her face as the sound of the trees rustling filled her sensitive ears. The leaves scud over the ground and take small flights into the air.

          "Cross, you're kind," she concluded. "My parents happened to die at a convenient time for you. You don't have to take on the blame for your being."

          His brows narrowed as he took a couple steps forward to embrace her in a passionate hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear.

          That's when she finally realized the depth of his previous apologies. The roots of his sincerity was the burden of guilt that consumed him every time he picked her up in his arms. Despite her words earlier, her eyes watered but froze almost immediately from the temperature.

          "Anything else I should know about?"
He was hesitant. She noticed it almost immediately. "Cross."

          He stared at her for a good minute before saying, "Scott."

          Her brows furrowed even further at the mention of his name. "What about him?"

          "He invited royals from all around the nation to a ball tomorrow. Interested?"

          "I can go?"

          "As my queen, yes."

          He began walking away after seeing the sparkling hope in her eyes. With every step, she pondered and eventually decided to asked with a whisper, "Scott's memories. By any chance, did you—"

          He stopped in his tracks. "Raven, happy birthday," he waved as a warm red scarf wrapped around her neck by itself.

          Her eyes seemed to lose its color. They emptied like a shell that lost its pearl. She was certain that her love for Cross wouldn't waver no matter what but what is this immense feeling coursing through her? "Don't touch Scott. Please, Cross. I'll do it myself."