The sun was almost setting at the time—a sign for us to mount back.
Blood clung beneath my clothes. A warm, irritating sensation poking here and there I couldn't point out for sure. However, I didn't stop. Mounted the horse anyways. Pain was secondary—always.
Frekios was still distant to me. those talks from main hall de-framing me, he was always a part of it—I knew, but let it slid aways. Aaron reached out. I ignored him. "I can manage."
He didn't insist. He was already occupied—holding Clarice Lemore upright, her blood staining his arms as if it belonged there. The same man who wounded her…..now carrying her.
How contradictory.
I looked away.
...…
By the time we reached the castle, the pain had settled deep. Thigh, shoulder, especially waist—the pain throbbed annoyingly, persistently.
Anyways, enduring pain is something small. Still, it's something I am yet to get accustomed with.
When we reached our place, it was already dark. Barely anything visible. I sent Frekios and Aaron away telling it's all fine. But at least I know, no in this place too would willingly show mercy to me if it weren't for my status.
I tried to walk with pride through the hallway, though in between the steps staggered. The thoughts of Atticus had already covered the whole of my mind. How pitiful for me to not find him by my side when I need him--- unlike before…..I hate it—
"Lisika." I remembered that girl as soon as I stepped in my chamber.
She appeared instantly, no need for second call. Silent as always if I hadn't started any talk.
Her eyes flickered once—just once—toward the blood seeping through my clothes. No panic, no fear…..as if she has expected some day to be like this. My scare- filled body—she was accustomed to it by now.
"…..You shouldn't put yourself in danger My Lady."
Her hands were already moving. She peeled back the fabric with careful precision, slower near the deeper cuts, her fingers pausing only when the cloth clung too tight to dried blood.
"…This would hurt a little."
"It doesn't matter." A lie. I was good at lying.
She didn't argued.
Hot water. Clean cloth. The scent of herbs rose faintly as she worked, pressing against the wound on my thigh first. A sting shot upward—I didn't move.
Her grip tightened in between to restrain me, to steady me—it was all fine still. But the one to my side was in the worst state.
My fingers curled instinctively, nails piercing into my palm as she lifted the cloth on my waist.
Her movement slowed—not softer though.
"As expected," she signed under breath, inspecting the cut. "This was is poorly placed."
"I know." A faint pause. "…..It could have been worse."
Her thumb brushed against the edge of the wound— not touching it, just close enough to feel the heat.
"Do it quick…. It's not that of a big deal." I frowned at her, it was embarrassing to lie there like that.
Lisika's hand stilled for the briefest second. Then again resumed to her rhythm. After wrapping the wound tightly, securing it with firm precision, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.
"You'll reopen it if you move too much."
"Hah….then it would be a waste of your bandages." I gave a faint laugh. I know I am sounding drunk.
"Yes it would be. Perhaps I would bring more harm to you My Lady. Beside, please be careful from now. There's no need to enter something if not have experience. Call me if it worsen, I will quick bring he medicine—"
"Ahhh…..Don't nag this much. I get you. I want to rest now—"
"Your food—"
"Tomorrow...please tomorrow."
Somehow, I was able to put her taunts at ease. She really acts up at times. Probably I am Her Lord's lady in her eyes, so she needs to obey and take care of me. But to me, she was already that little sister I never wanted to lose ever. We may have a year or two gap, but I adored that child.
...
After Lisika left, my mind was covered with Atticus thoughts for a long while. I missed him. I just hope for him to be fine.
Somewhere in the thoughts I fell asleep.
A sudden nightmare about Anaphora's original body pushed be back to life. It was terrifying to be beaten on the leash that way by my own family. There was a reason behind all those scars on my back, on the leg…..
My mind seemed to have recalled something—that letter, the one with the messenger gave.
I sprang out of the bed, the wound ached. It must be in the cloth. Thankfully Lisika hadn't cleaned up all.
I found the letter wrinkled up in the blouse.
'First anniversary evening party, at Flambora. Come at the basement—Room 44. Be alone. Have something for you. ---Cardan.'
My grip tightened.
Cardan—my sister's husband's. …..This body's weakness.
I folded the letter slowly as my mind seem to recover tons of embarrassing memories. I really pity this girl. How could she go to such extends for that Crown Prince who has got nothing compared to Atticus. How could she degrade herself so much so as to take part in active organizations and work under his direction for his attention. How could she even do something as killing to get that man's love who always had his eyes fixed on someone else.
It was now that I realized—this body has killed before. But not using strength—by mind to say.
Time was still left. I need to think properly for a plan...
...
Atticus still hasn't returned.
For three months I have been sending him letters almost daily.
Letters sent—remained ignored as I expected.
Except that one time, he sent one—'I am fine here. Take care for yourself.'
Cold, distant....just like him.
However, I didn't put a break to my training. I worked more harder now. The last duel reminded me of my position. To stay in this cruel world, I can't give up easily.
Every time I moved my sword, the wound on the waist and shoulder stretched. The tight ached under constant friction with every step, but I moved more precisely. The more it hurt, the more it reminded me to fasten my moves, precise my aims also strengthen my sword skill.
"Again," Macios shouted with hesitation. But I am sure he was enjoying.
Steel met steel. My stance broke many times, he found a chance to strike me so many times, but her didn't.
"Go harder on me." I shouted.
A smirk rose by the end of his lips, and then we continued. He made sudden strikes here and there as he knew my weakness now, but my fierce toughness defended me most of the time.
My practiced continued longer now.
Two days later—she vanished. Clarice vanished without a sound, without a single trace. She was gone within an hour of Aaron's absence.
This was the first time Aaron had taken such an interest in a dungeon belonging, and yet she slipped out under his nose.
Aaron's anger has taken pace now. He didn't show any irritation—but his actions spoke quiet opposite.
In the training ground, he dueled like he was trying to break something. Anyone stepping forward became his target.
I watched him. It amused me.
Did Clarice Lamore broke his pride? Or was it…. she was beautiful though. And Aaron—never serious. Until now.
"....How interesting."
I stepped forward. "Fight me."
He didn't hesitate.
I was trying my best. My whole strength went into the sword at this point, but even defending seemed difficult. He was venting anger.
I lost. My sword fell as he strike straight bending through the side.
One step slower—and I would have died.
So this was him….unrestrained. Good to know.
...….
That night, my room felt quieter.
Already two more week had passed and the wounds were closing, but too slowly.
My shoulder and thigh still ached. The cut along my waist still burned when I moved. But I always kept those under ignorance. That's the best way.
I prepared the bath myself. Always alone, doing these stuffs alone send me satisfaction.
Warmer water and with that silence—it always send me to heaven.
I reached behind, loosing the laces. One. two.
Three—stuck.
I exhaled, pulling harder. Irritation creeping in as the fabric refused to give. My shoulder protested at the movement, the wound pulling faintly.
Annoying this. I shifted slightly, trying again—
Click.
A sudden sound startled me for a brief second. The sound was soft, but it didn't belong.
My hands stilled. No one entered my chambers without permission.
No one.
Footsteps followed. Slow and measured. They felt hurried, but still calm.
It was coming closer. My pulse didn't quicken, it stilled. Because…..because I know this presence.
That rhythm, that presence, that faint, familiar scent – I knew it all.....
"….Atticus."
The name left my lips before I turned.