A cold smile crept across the King's lips.
"You've done it, then? Just today I thought you'd failed and wouldn't return," the King laughed.
"No, your majesty," I swept into a bow. "I would never do such a thing."
"Well then, we must celebrate. Bring in the hostage!"
My stomach churned, and I felt sick. They were going to hurt him. He didn't even care about Xavier. Bile rose up in my throat.
The door opened and the guards walked in, ready, holding Lance and roughly pushing him to the floor. He fell onto his knees and grimaced. They were already bleeding from his fall outside.
"You must be . . . ?" the King trailed off, confused.
"Sire, the girl wasn't available at the time. Though I did, in fact, make the discovery of more than one offspring from the Leaders."
The King nodded. "Boy!" he shouted.
Lance looked up. His shirt was torn at the edges like he'd tried to put up a fight. He was bruised across the cheekbone. The corner of his lip was bleeding.
"So you must be the mighty King of Astodia," Lance broke out into a grin. Blood dripped from his lips as he coughed. "Pleased to meet you."
The King smiled coldly. "How does it feel to kneel in front of me?"
"Weird. I don't like you much anyway. I can smell you all the way here." Lance wrinkled his nose. "You smell like old man."
"Silence!" the King's smiled disappeared. A guard kicked Lance with a heavy boot to the stomach. He bent over, coughing painfully. I shut my eyes as blood splattered onto the floor.
"Sire, may I see the prince? I've brought the antidote," I cut in, quick to stop Lance's torture.
"Ah, of course," he nodded, his smile genuine. I felt disgust as I tore my eyes from Lance's pained body.
"Thank you, your majesty," I said politely, sweeping into another bow.
"Guards, take her to my son," the King said. "Try to heal him if he isn't already dead."
I gritted my teeth, fuming inside. How could he talk about his own son that way?
I slipped out the room, clutching the small glass vial to my chest only to be stopped by the King.
"Oh, and one more thing. Take the boy with you. If my son awakes, the boy's torture will be lessened during his time in the dungeons."
"And if he doesn't?" I said, masking a new feeling a felt in my chest—fear.
"If he doesn't," the King laughed, "Then we don't have to worry about keeping the boy alive, do we?"
I bowed.
The guards stopped at the door. I flew into the room, my heart beating loudly in my chest.
He was lying on the bed, his face sickly pale. His eyes were partially closed. Dark hair was plastered to his forehead and his hands were at his side. He was in a thin white shirt, and his skin was lighter than it. The blankets were pulled up to his chest.
"Leave the room," I ordered the maids and servants. They took one look at me and disappeared. "All of you," I told the guards, "get out."
"We can't leave the prince alone," he said. "if he wakes up and he's not in his right mind—"
"I'm an assassin," I sneered. "Are you saying I can't deal with him? Tie the boy there." I motioned to the guards who did so. He pulled Lance roughly, and it was only then that I saw the blood on Lance's wrists from being chafed by the cuffs.
When we were alone, I dropped by the side of Xavier's bed, feeling his pulse. It was so faint I thought he was dead for the first few tries, and I almost gave up. But then I felt it on his neck. I pulled out the antidote and opened his mouth, tipping it gently.
"Wake up, Xavier, please," I pleaded. "Xavier I'm here. You told me you'd hold on. I'm here now."
He lay still—and that's when I realized I hadn't known how much of the hazel liquid I should've given him. What if too much doubled the effects and hurt him more?
"Xavier. Wake up." I shook him. "Wake up!" I yelled. There was a shrill tinge in my voice, a tinge of helplessness.
Nothing. His pulse slowly faded, and I collapsed next to his bed.
"You said you would wait," I said quietly, gripping his lifeless hand, "You lied to me. I only came back for you. If you don't wake up, everything I did will be for nothing. I did it for you." Suddenly, I remembered Lance was in the room. I turned to speak to him but he turned his face, his jaw set.
You never knew me.
"Xavier." I looked back at the body. "Wake up." I felt the tears start and I brushed them away angrily, when suddenly I felt it.
The gentlest squeeze.
"Don't," a voice whispered hoarsely.
I jerked up. "Xavier!" my eyes were wide.
"Water." his voice was gravelly. I reached forward and pulled his head up, grabbing a cup of water from the table next to me and tipping it down his mouth. His voice cleared.
"Why . . . you . . . you're crying. . ." he croaked, blinking.
"Xavier." I said, clutching his hands, laughing and trying to clear my blurry vision. "You're alive."
"Of course." Even through that tired, don't push me voice, his 'of course' was so matter-of-factly that I burst into laughter.
"I can't believe this," I rubbed my forehead, so relieved.
"Laughing?" he whispered. He had no strength to sit up. The antidote must've jumpstarted a part of his brain to get him to speak. I didn't care. He was awake. "You're. . . ."
"I'm laughing, of course I'm laughing!" I said overwhelmed. "Why wouldn't I laugh?"
"Who are you," said Xavier, attempting a pained smile, his voice pained and slow, "and what . . . have you . . . with my assassin. . ." he shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "Tired."
"I know," I grinned, fixing his covers, "I know. The doctors are going to check up on you." I kissed his forehead.
I turned to Lance to reassure him, but his eyes were no longer on me. They were closed, his head leaning against the wall. He looked almost peaceful. Innocent.
He didn't belong here.
Weeks later, Xavier regained his strength and the King announced a ball in honor of his son's revival. Of course, I was given no credit because I didn't exist, but I was definitely invited. The ball was in a week, giving Xavier more time to recover.
"Dearest Adalia," he bowed in front of me.
"What do you want, Xavier?" I asked. I had taken a walk in the courtyard to take my mind off things.
"Am I not welcome in my savior's presence?" his drawl was back.
I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"
He put an arm around my shoulders. His face was still pale and he still looked painfully thin, but he was trying to act as if everything was fine.
Everything was not fine.
"Is everything alright with you?" Xavier said, squeezing my shoulders.
"Sort of."
"Care to share?"
"Not really."
"Please?"
"Shut up, Xavier."
"Well you're sweet."
"As honey."
"What happened to you?" Xavier shook his head, utterly surprised.
"I was with the RA for a while," I crossed my arms over my chest. "It was life-changing."
"Are you joking?" Xavier raised an eyebrow. "You're teasing me, right? Are you getting back at me for all the times I teased you? If so, I apologize," he said humbly. "You're starting to scare me."
"Why won't you believe me?" I started walking. "Why do I sound so different? You've been sleeping a while. It's time to wake up, Xavier. I've returned."
"You might have, but your awfully frightful presence hasn't. What have they done to you?"
"What have they done to me?" I whirled on him. "Xavier, be glad I'm back. You're alive. Don't worry about me."
He sighed. "If you say so. But remember, if there's anything bothering you, you can tell me."
"Great," I said with a sigh, tossing my braid over my shoulder.
He smiled.
"His Majesty would like to see you," the servant girl said after a low curtsy the next morning, and I nodded. He wanted information.
"It was a servant, your majesty," I told him. "She poisoned Xavier, but I have not seen her since. She escaped. I was told by the boy. He proved to be of help," I said, pointing to Lance who was again, on his knees, close by me. He had ribbons of blood dribbling down his wrists and it sickened me, though I couldn't show my distaste.
A guard was standing beside Lance, ready.
"And this boy, whose child is he?" he asked, rubbing his chin.
"Son of the Leader, Janine."
The King's hand froze. "Who were the other leaders?"
"One man and a woman named Clarice."
The King stood up abruptly, fury in his eyes. "And the girl's name?"
"I don't know." The lie rolled off my tongue easily. "I didn't stay around her long enough."
I was hoping Lance would play along, but he wouldn't even look at my face. His green eyes were focused on the King; taunting, mischievous. Xavier sat on the other side of the King, his throne smaller but posh enough all the same. His leg was crossed over the other, his chin rested on his fist, cape draped over the arm of the throne. The crown rested on his head, tilted slightly. Xavier watched Lance carefully.
The prince turned his head and caught me looking, a sudden grin appearing on his lips. He winked at me and I closed my eyes, turning away and letting out a deep breath of annoyance.
"What were you planning down there?" the King asked Lance. "What were you street rats thinking you could accomplish?"
Lance laughed. It was a cold and angry laugh, and he shook his head. "We're not the rats, your majesty," he spat the word. "It is your kind who is the rats, murdering everyone who threatens your lordship."
My breath caught in my throat, but Lance's eyes stayed on the King.
"You're lucky, boy," the King sneered, "I am feeling merciful today. You will not be hung. Assassin, take him to the Dungeon."
There. The feeling was back. The chill that ran up my spine as if someone was spilling ice cold water down my back—fear.
"Very well, your majesty."
"Make sure he feels it," the King said, smirking, as he sat back down on his blood red throne.
As I walked out, I turned and locked eyes with Xavier. He seemed to be saying, don't do anything stupid. Don't kill him. Don't beat him to death. It wasn't his fault. Even Xavier had a heart big enough to tell me to be careful with this boy. Of course Xavier wouldn't want him dead. He wasn't someone like me. If only he knew I would never lay a finger on Lance.
I turned away. I didn't want Lance dead.
The Dungeon was the worst place for an enemy to go. It was dark, set in the back of the real dungeons, filled with rats. There you were beaten until you answered the questions put forth, and nobody cared if you died in the process. It was a torture chamber. If you died, you were just thrown out to the sea like the rest.
Please answer the questions. I don't want to hurt you.
He was thrown into the Dungeon. I ordered two guards to come in with me. I wasn't going to touch Lance. It had to be someone else.
It was dark, eerily quiet. Something scurried across the floor between my ankles. Rats.
"Very well then," I sighed. "On the chair he goes."
I lit the torches for light, and faced Lance. His arms were still cuffed behind his back.
"Un-cuff him," I ordered the taller guard. He hesitated. "I know what I'm doing," I assured him. "I've done this many times before."
The guard reached forward and unlocked Lance's handcuffs.
"Okay," I said, my hands clasped behind my back. "These are the rules; I ask a question, you answer. If you don't answer, they'll make you answer." I gestured towards the guards who stood on either side of Lance. He flexed his chafed and bruised wrists, bleeding, and finally looked up at my face.
"Care to tell me of your means of torture?" He raised his eyebrows, giving me a smile that warmed my chest, despite the position we were in.
Get a hold of yourself, I warned. Don't let him mess with you.
"You need to answer the questions," I spoke calmly. "You won't get hurt. I'd advise you to answer the questions and not give the guards the pleasure of beating you to death. Once they start, they don't stop."
I had to keep myself in control. One careless slip and I would be sitting in the chair next. I had to do this. I had to or both of us would die.
"What is the RA planning?" I asked. "An attack?"
He laughed, running a hand through his dirty hair. "Why would I tell you?"
"You would if you were smart," I said to him without emotion.
"Over my dead body." His words made me angry. They made me upset. I felt like a fool, thinking everything would be alright once I'd completed my mission. Things would never be the same, and Lance made sure to rub salt in my wounds.
"Very well then." I raised a hand, signaling for a hard blow across the jaw. I stopped them by closing my hand into a fist. "Enough."
Lance spat out blood. "Go ahead. Let them rip me to pieces. It's still not as bad as what you've done to me."
"Answer me."
"Never," he sneered, just as he was pushed off the chair and onto his knees. "You'll never break me. I won't let you do it again."
"Answer me."
He smiled a smile that tore into my heart. Don't. Stop it. Don't fall for it.
"Just answer the question," I hissed. "Answer it and you won't get hurt."
"Try me."
Without warning, he was kicked in the side. He rolled onto his back and groaned, trying to regain his posture. I battled my soul to keep from looking away. I wanted to tear my eyes away, to run, disappear. . . .
"Kill me," he whispered. "Do it. Please."
The boot came down on his hand next and he cried out in pain. I sucked in a deep breath that made my chest hurt.
"Answer the question." I'd dealt with stubborn prisoners before, but Lance was starting to get to me. I was getting frustrated with him.
"No." The next time he was hit so hard he spat blood at the guard's feet, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. As Lance regained his sturdiness he looked at my face. "Is that all you've got?"
He was finally pulled back on the chair. He was coughing, hard, his head down.
"Are you ready?"
"Tell the guards to leave," Lance whispered hoarsely. "Get them out."
I nodded towards the guards and they, trained to obey every command, exited. We were alone.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he got there first.
"Don't say you're sorry," he spat, clutching his stomach, his face contorting into a grimace. "Don't ever tell me you're sorry, because sorry won't fix anything."
My mouth snapped shut.
"I don't care what you think I might've told you that night, that night you jumped out of the window. It wasn't true."
"I—"
"Don't you ever say anything to me. Even Demetria was a better choice than you." I deserved it. Every single bit of his anger and his venomous words.
"I hope I die here. I hope my ghost comes to haunt you every night to remind you of the pain you've caused me."
I could see it in his eyes. It wasn't only the physical pain he was talking about. It was the emotional pain. I'd tinkered with his thoughts. I hurt him on the inside.
"Hating you," he laughed, "is the easiest part. You needn't ask me twice. Now," he ripped off his bloody gloves, "forgetting you won't be easy. These bruises and scars," he pointed at all the places he'd been hurt by the guards, "will remind me forever of your love and mercy." He was laughing. "Silly, isn't it?"
"I deserve it," was all I managed to say.
"You deserve more. I wish your prince would realize your incapability of feeling and get rid of you."
"He's not—" I gasped in disbelief, but Lance stopped me.
"Please." He sounded weak all of a sudden. "Here's your answer; our plan was to get rid of your prince so that we could have an opening to the King. But now you have me and the prince is alive so I don't know what's happening. I expect you to order another attack on me now that I've spoken." He swallowed. "I don't mind, really, it's not very painful after what I've experienced having being friends with someone like you."
His words hit me hard, like jumping off a tower and landing face first on concrete.
"But Lance—"
"I don't know!" he yelled. "Won't you just leave me alone? Haven't you done enough?"
"You aren't giving me a chance to speak," I said, suddenly deadly quiet. "I don't—"
"You don't what? You don't want to hurt me? Nice job," he laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. He looked so tired, so hurt. "You're an assassin?"
I turned slowly to face him. "Yes."
"Then do your job." When I didn't say anything, he sighed, letting his head fall in his hands. "They never tell me anything. All of us, everyone except the Leaders, just sit there and wait for news. We don't do much; we're just pawns. All of us. If there's a war, we'll be fighting. We do the dirty work, while the Leaders plan. Life isn't perfect." His voice suddenly got low. "Sometimes . . . sometimes you just have to go with it."
"I know, Lance."
He raised his hand. "Please. Don't say my name like that." He sat back against the chair. "You can bring the guards in. That's all I have to say." I watched him move slowly, achingly. Then I turned on my heel and walked out, shutting the door behind me. The guards were waiting outside.
"Don't touch him," I said as I left. "He needs some time to think. We can still use him to our advantage."
"As you wish," the guards took a bow and stood on either side of the door, their hands on the hilts of their swords.
"I knew you were a fake, ever since I let you go there," the King snarled. "I knew before that you weren't fit for this, and now you'll pay the price for betrayal."
"She deserves it," another voice laughed. I looked up to see Lance, clean and healthy, tall with his boyish face and his light dirty-blond hair smoothed back. His white shirt was startlingly clean, and his brown pants were tear-free. The gloves were back on his hands, his light green eyes shone—not with care, but ice. His smile was cold.
I tried to move and call out to him but I was frozen. My arms were chained behind me, my legs glued to the floor.
"What to do with her?" another voice asked. It was Darren. The blond boy with the bright blue eyes.
"I trusted her," Lorelle sighed, her light brown hair swept in a braid over her shoulder. "We all did."
"She should be hung." Lance leaned in front of me, a smirk plastered on his pale face.
"No," I tried to say. I couldn't breathe.
"Yes." The King laughed. "That would do it. The boy should do the honors."
A rope appeared in Lance's fingers as he leaned over to slip it around my neck.
"No!" I yelled, ripping away from the chains. I reached forward to find a knife in my hand.
Lance raised his palm and the knife cut through.
"I'm so sorry," I breathed, backing away.
"Adalia," he said. "Adalia." The blood swirled from his palm onto the ground. I was drowning. He was shaking me.
I gasped, sitting upright. I had to blink to clear my vision. My hands trembled.
"Adalia!" the voice yelled again, and I looked up to see a dark figure over the edge of my bed. Xavier sucked in a breath between his teeth. "You just tore my hand open."
"What?" I looked down to see the same gray dagger I kept under my pillow, gripped in my hand. It was stained with reddish black liquid. "Oh. I'm sorry. Let me get something to clean it up," I groaned, getting to my feet. The sudden cold from the tiled floor gave my feet a little shock. Xavier clutched his wrist, blood dripping down his arm.
He let out a hiss of pain. "You had a bad dream and decided it's best to stab me when I tried to wake you up."
I grabbed a small white hand towel. "What were you doing in my room anyway?"
"Just checking on you as I've always done." He gave me a teasing smile.
"Really? How come I never hear you?"
"You're a deep sleeper," he smiled. "You snore."
"I do not!"
"Like a little baby bear." Xavier grinned, his golden eyes shining in the dim moonlight peeking in from behind the window. I grabbed his hand and put the towel over it, trying to clean it for him.
"Who's this Lance?" he suddenly asked. Lance. The towel slipped from my fingers. "You kept saying his name."
I quickly bent down to pick it up, averting my gaze. "No one."
"You wouldn't have that reaction if he was a no one."
I reached down to pick up the towel with a scowl on my face. "He's nobody."
"Maybe he is, but not to you," he noted. I grabbed his hand and started dabbing at the wound. "Adalia, I need a straight answer." He gripped my shoulders and then winced, forgetting that his palm was gaping open. My white nightgown was stained with scarlet blood. I ignored him and pulled his cold fingers away from my shoulder, bringing the towel across his bloody wound to clear it up.
"Adalia."
"Why are you so interested?"
"Because every time I say that name, you look like you're going to kill someone. Like that." He pointed at my face with his good hand. "Who is he?" he pressed, and I clenched my wounded fist only causing myself pain.
"Someone." I looked away from Xavier's face. "Not important to you."
"Adalia. . ." Xavier said, confused. His golden eyes searched my face to find out what I was hiding.
"Don't be pathetic," I tried to rip myself free from his grasp but he was surprisingly strong. "I-I would never."
"You're stuttering. Adalia, you're not being truthful. You never stutter."
"Let go of me."
"Who's Lance?"
"It's none of your business."
"Then look into my eyes and tell me he's a nobody to you."
My mouth went dry. I felt guilt again.
He stared into my eyes. "Lance is the hostage." He figured it out himself. "Of course."
"Don't remind me," I let out a groan.
He let go of my arms and I clasped my hands together. "I can't believe you," Xavier said. "You're mad."
I looked at him wearily. "He hates me."
"Adalia," Xavier brushed a strand of dark hair behind my ear, "You are completely mad," he repeated.
"Am I?" I asked softly.
"I need to meet him," Xavier said with a soft smile. "This Lance is probably a very special person, to have taken you from me."
"No one took me anywhere," I scoffed, swatting his arm. "No one."
"Seems like he has."
"I don't want to see him," I shook my head. "Really, I don't. He's in the past now. I'm here," I said.
"As you wish," he bowed. Scarlet drops spattered the floor.
"Let me clean your hand." My scowl got deeper as I fumbled with his sleeve, trying to tie it up before he pulled it away to act silly again.
"I'm going to have to meet him."
I pressed my finger into his wound. He grunted in pain. "You did that on purpose," he looked down into my eyes, hurt.
"Don't you dare do anything without my permission."
"Lance!" I yelled. "Say something already so I can get you out of this hellhole!"
"No," he whispered. "I have nothing to say." The guard raised a booted foot to kick him in the stomach for the fifth time today, and I almost to burst into tears.
"Damn it!" I yelled at the guard. "If you keep kicking him he'll never be able to speak!"
The guards I picked were on Xavier's command, and they weren't as hard as the other ones. They were also very good at keeping their mouths closed, unless they wanted to meet God at night while they were sleeping peacefully.
"Lance, for goodness sake. Say anything."
"Anything." He looked at my face with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The entire left side of his face was purple and starting to swell.
"Now is not the time to joke!" I shouted, when suddenly someone rapped loudly on the door. I relaxed my shoulders, wiping strands of hair from my sweaty forehead. The guard opened the door.
Xavier walked in. I was expecting him to do so after the revelation last night. "Xavier," I sighed, feeling miserable. "Please."
"Dismissed," he told the guards.
When we were alone, Xavier took the old wooden seat meant for Lance and sighed melodramatically. "Lance, Lance, Lance."
I knelt beside Lance and grabbed his arm. He grimaced, shrinking away from me. "Lie for me," I whispered in his ear. "Just lie. I don't care anymore. I can't see you like this."
He ripped his arm out of my grasp and staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall. "What is he . . . what is he doing here?" He nodded towards Xavier.
"He knows . . . things." I turned to set my glare on Xavier. "He's not going to do anything. Give me information and I'll leave you at peace."
Lance smiled with effort, shaking his head. "Don't lie."
"I like this boy," Xavier clapped his hands. "I am a fan of this boy."
"Shut up," Lance and I said in unison.
"Okay," Lance said. "Okay. We were planning to kill the King. It's going to be in . . . a week. There will be a surprise attack. They've already got people planted all over the castle. You can't stop it now."
Xavier's eyes widened. All traces of humor disappeared from his face. He leaned closer to Lance. "You better not be lying for your sake."
Lance shook his head. He'd finally confessed. He'd caved in. It was too much for him.
"That's what I wanted to hear," I said to Lance, standing up. "I'll make sure you get leave this Dungeon. I never wanted this to happen. I can promise you that."
"Don't promise me anything," Lance said, his eyes turning cold again. "Nothing."
Xavier sighed, his golden eyes catching the light. "Can't you see? This love story is a tragedy."
I pushed Xavier's shoulder roughly. He stumbled back from the sudden force. "Can't you shut up? Instead of trying to be of use, you're ruining things!"
"Well then. Did she do this to you too?" he asked, raising his eyebrow pointedly at Lance. Surprisingly, Lance smiled back.
"All the time."
"Alright." I let out a deep breath. "Pray the King doesn't kill you," I said to Lance, and to Xavier I said, "I hope he kills you." Then I stormed off, towards the throne room, wishing the best for Lance.