Adara was in her room, staring up at the ceiling.
It was winter. It was cold.
And she could not sleep.
She stared at all the faults in the ceiling, the familiar ceiling. It was so odd to her. To be back in her room, after having spent 4 years in the Temple of Death. She was only recently back, the Banquet that she crashed happening only a week ago. 2 weeks ago, she was still in the Temple of Death, preparing to leave.
And that was what was so odd to her, only 2 weeks ago she said bye to her dad, Priest Charlie, to Bede and his young sister, Lina, Sir Dain, Sir Isac, even to Priest Aron she signed goodbye to. And that was only 2 weeks ago.
It felt like a year.
So much happened in the week since the Banquet that she could not process it all. Her father interrogated her, asking where she had been and why. With him looking close to slapping her when she refused to answer his questions. And that made the fury come up in her, the silent fury that she had to deal with for the past 14 years.
Countess Lousie, her mother, was not any better. She was glaring daggers at Adara the whole entire time, though she did not say a word. Adara felt Countess Louise's sharp green eyes on her the entire time, the weight heavy on her shoulders, her golden hair in a pristine hairstyle.
Out of everything, what she least expected, was that her brother did not say anything. He did not look at her, he did not speak to her, he did not even breath in her direction. She was tense as hell during the whole thing, wondering if her brother would come to her and speak to her, maybe make fun of her.
The last time they saw each other, was when he tried to murder her.
And now he wouldn't even look at her.
She could not tell if he was ashamed. She could not tell anything, because he made sure he was looking anywhere except for her, preventing her from even seeing his face.
The only good thing that had come out of that Banquet was the fact she met an interesting red-headed Young Master.
And that was it.
She was put to work the second she arrived home after an uncomfortable carriage ride back. Well, she put herself to work. She wanted to do all the duties she couldn't do when she was 10.
And she shouldn't be able to do them now, at 14, but it was all good because she was now more assertive in asking for her due work. She was going to be the Successor, so she needed to take up the Successor's work.
But, before she even arrived for two days, her brother had gotten rid of all the servants she was so glad to see the day before. It still annoyed her. It reminded her of when Unnie left. Except, this time it was all of them.
And her brother didn't even dare to look her in the face as he did it. He simply gave the order the night before, leaving her to wake up to a cold and unfamiliar face and find out what happened later. Without being able to say goodbye.
Like with Unnie.
She still needed to decide what she was going to do about that. She needed to find them. But she couldn't bring them back into her employment, because her father was convinced her brother hadn't been lying in his report and refused to have them back.
She was still undecided about what to do when she found them.
Adara's attention was taken when she heard a noise from outside. She sighed. It was just a noise. Noises were always noisy. She was surprised that she was so on edge by a simple noise. She figured it was because the noise was unfamiliar.
In the Temple of Death, where they slept during the day and stayed awake during the night, every noise was familiar and she knew them all. The birds chirping, the footsteps walking. Every individual voice was familiar to her.
Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep right now. Because for those 4 years she spent with her favourite people, she stayed awake during the night. Maybe that was why she was just staring at the ceiling for most of the night.
Maybe there was another reason.
She always had nightmares. She had them since that night when her brother tried to kill her. But, she noticed, that the dreams were worse now that she lived in her Father's house.
She blinked, not feeling tired at all. She knew she would have to change her sleeping patterns. Because she could not sleep during the day. She needed to work. And the shadows seemed darker than usual.
Staring at a particularly dark shadow, she sighed again. It seemed as if the shadow was moving, and that was stupid. She must be quite tired if she thought a shadow was moving. She shifted in the bed, trying to turn to one side.
As she turned, a sharp, searing pain went through her shoulder. She gasped involuntarily, tears prickling in her eyes.
She tried to touch her shoulder, feeling cold metal pushing aside her flesh. Her shoulder felt warm around what she recognised as a dagger, and wet. The pain was sharp and it was burning. She wanted to scream.
But then she looked up. And she saw the mean glint in someone's eyes. The figure was too tall to be her brother. And their chest too bumpy not to be a woman. It was definitely not her brother. But... who was it?
Who would try to kill her?
The woman reached towards the dagger, and Adara gasped again when the cold metal dagger was pulled out of her shoulder. She clutched the wound, feeling the warm blood seep onto her fingers.
Fear took hold of her, catching her breath in her throat. The room seemed smaller, trapping her within with this murderous woman. The woman raised the dagger again, trying to stab her in the heart this time. But Adara's adrenaline kicked in, as she rolled off the bed. Avoiding the fatal strike.
The bloody dagger cut into her bed where Adara's body would have been. She was afraid. She knew she was afraid.
Adara, in her heightened state of adrenaline, realised that this woman was an assassin. And she meant to kill her. She scrambled off the floor, seeing the assassin already approaching her.
She looked around, trying to find anything she could use as a weapon.
She saw herself staring at her reflection in a mirror she hated on the wall opposite her. She ran quickly to the mirror, a blur of a person. With her speed, she raised her fist and broke the mirror. Shards of the broken mirror rained down on her, most of them covered in her own blood.
She hesitated.
She was afraid. Afraid that she—.
The assassin was closing in on her.
She rapped one up, wielding it as a weapon to the assassin now behind her.
Her defence and attacks were slow compared to the assassin who was quick and lethal, trying hard to hit her anywhere it hurt. She knew how to swordfight, she knew how to use a dagger, even a mirror shard. But her reactions were too slow.
She tripped to the ground as she narrowly avoided another attack from the assassin. In a quick thought, she kicked the assassin and tripped her as well.
Once the assassin fell, momentarily surprised, Adara crawled towards her and raised the shard of glass above her head and brought it down on her. And again. And again. And again.
Adara did not stop stabbing the assassin until she felt that pain in her arm again and she dropped the shard. Covered in blood. That— for once— was not hers.
She was afraid. Afraid that when she takes a life... she would not feel anything.
She could not breathe as she looked down at the assassin.
Her eyes, which were once malicious, were now vacant, with tears streaking down them. Her neck was torn open, blood all over, with her bones on display. Her mouth was open, almost as if she wanted to scream. She was dead. She was very dead.
And Adara did not feel anything. She looked away from the body under her, more horrified with the revelation that she did not regret it than with the deed she just did. Her eyes landed on the broken mirror shards. She saw herself in them.
She was covered head to toe in blood.
She felt tears fall down her face. Her breathing heavy.
It was her or the assassin.
She knew that.
She knew it.
Her or the assassin.
She had to choose one.
And she chose.
She chose herself.
Nobody would blame her for that.
But she could at least feel something.