by Kiki Leach
He shook his head and passed me, heading for the door. “I shall return upon the king’s arrival.”
“Just a moment, Sheriff,” I yelled out. He stopped and dropped his head back, aggravated. “What exactly is your purpose with the king?”
“That is none of your concern, Mistress.”
“I believe it is. Especially when your mere presence never fails in disrupting the entire palace, hence your absence of late.”
He folded his arms and sneered. “It seems you are confusing me with yourself.”
“No, I don’t think so.” I traipsed across the room and placed my fingers on a table sitting between two couches. I circled my fingers around the edges, allowing the dust to imbed between the creases of them, then crawled to the tip of a chess board at the center, reaching for the white queen. I twisted it between my fingers and looked over at the Sheriff, who was staring down at my hands, and I laughed. “You are so utterly convinced I killed Willem.”
His eyes darted back to mine and he glowered. “You find it amusing?”
“Not exactly.”
“You find me amusing?”
“Not at all. In fact, I find you quite… obtuse.”
“Is that so? In what way, girl?”
I rested the chess piece at the center of my hand, sitting it right side up, and extended my arm. “This piece is one of the most powerful pieces in a game of chess… Have you ever played a game of chess, Sheriff?”
He scoffed. “Of course!”
“Well, have you ever won?”
“Always,” he snapped.
“Hmm. Then your opponents must be drunkards, as I do not believe you could ever win against me.”
“Is that so, girl?”
“So.”
“Never make a promise you have no intention of keeping, Mistress.”
“I have kept many a promise as you know, and I shall keep this promise as well, as it is a guaranteed truth. I would indeed win against you, leaving you to crawl from the palace in even more of a grumble with your red burning tail between your legs. You seem to take many gambles in life. Though I would advise that it would not be sensible to gamble against me, especially when it comes to what we are both quite aware I am capable of. You shall not inform the king of my misdeed.”
“I shall--”
“You shall not.” I placed the piece back onto the center of the board and crossed my arms. “I have warned you once. Norvack has warned you, and now I am once more, seeing as your skull is far too thick to understand it the first two times. You shall not inform the king of my misdeed. If you believe I had the fortitude to kill a prince and dump his body in a river with no plans of ever coming forward, nor a care in the world that he was in fact dead, what on God’s green earth makes you believe you are safe? You’re no prince, or duke.”
“I am the sheriff.”
“All the more reason to be eliminated.”
He took in a breath, releasing it slowly. “I am the king’s right hand.”
I tossed my hand at him. “Your life is equivalent to that of a commoner. You are no more a right hand to the king than I am. He uses you for information in the same manner as he would a jester, and would discard you himself if such information ever appeared useless or worse, erroneous. Try again.”
He grit his teeth and gulped. And then he grinned and snickered in a failed attempt to seem unaffected by my words. “You haven’t the fortitude to kill me, Mistress.”
I tilted my head. “I don’t?” I clutched my dress in my hands, bustling toward him as he reared into the bookcase. He slammed back so hard, books on either side of him tumbled out and onto the floor. I leaned in close, smelling the cigar on his breath and the mixture of anger and fear coming from his skin. I shut my eyes and breathed him in. And then I watched his face redden and noticed a single bead of sweat sliding down his round face and onto the collar of his jacket. “Are you convinced that you are safe from me, Sheriff? Or are you bluffing as always?”
“You never meant to kill Willem,” he said, his breath rattling against my neck.
“But I did.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re confessing.”
“Yes,” I hissed, overlooking the growing terror on his face. “He was a man who made my life and so many others miserable day after day. And frankly, I believe I deserve commemoration in the square for ridding this country of the leading filth it raised from birth. A hanging would be seen as barbaric in this instance, don’t you agree?”
He widened his eyes, glaring at me as if a ghost had just appeared between us, and frightened him into the color of a sheet. “You are as mad as your husband.”
“Quite the contrary. He is as mad as me.”
He locked his jaw tight and slipped a finger beneath his collar, tugging at it. “What do you wish of me?”
I leaned back and smiled. “This is what I like to hear--”
“What do you wish,” he stated crossly, the words seemed to run together, making one. “Mistress.”
“Well if we’re being blunt, I wish for you to leave this country, never to return. And if you shall, it would be in the form of a corpse. The country would not miss you, I have no doubt of that.”
He flinched. “My children.”
“Your children would come to terms with it, I am quite certain. As would your wife, who would sooner marry again. However, there is no way for you to go as I wish. Your sudden absence would only make the king and his court more suspicious than I already believe them to be. And I’ve no doubt you have informed your men of what you claimed for so long I have done, yes?”
He looked to the corner of his eye and paused, grinding his teeth. A beat passed before he finally answered. “No, Mistress.”
“Really?” I asked, my voice rising in shock. “Then if I were to kill you now, no one would ever suspect me of such a crime? Is that what you’re saying to me?”
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand.
“Speak up.”
He locked onto my eyes with a rage only seen in the eyes of the inhumane, and nodded. “Yes. Mistress,” he replied.
“Then why don’t I start with cutting out your most precious gift with that letter opener on the desk? I suggested a spike for your devil’s tongue, but this will have to do. Bring it to me.”
His breathing increased as he stared at me. Then he looked over at the desk and glowered. “Mistress--”
“It’s not going to get up and walk over on its own. I haven’t managed to learn that trick yet.” I smiled. “Bring it to me, Sheriff. Bring me the letter opener.”
He gulped and then exhaled. He sucked on his cheeks and turned away from me, heading toward the desk. Then he reached for the opener and turned back to me, snarling as he waved it back and forth in the manner of a white flag.
“Sheriff--”
“What makes you so sure I won’t kill you first?” He pressed his finger against the tip of the blade, then pointed the tip directly at me.
“You wouldn’t know where to start,” I said.
He stood up straight and shut one eye, focusing the blade down. “What of your heart?”
“It’s embedded in ice. Bring me the letter opener.”
He puckered his brows a little, befuddled by my lack of fear.
I could see him shaking now, unsure of where to go, what to do. I stared at him until he finally stepped forward and handed me the opener, pressing the blade into my palm. I gripped it tight and began to bleed. The blood gushed between my fingers, gliding down between my knuckles and the back of my hand, dripping to the floor, staining the pure white carpeting in the room. The Sheriff jerked away before any drops of my blood could splatter his hands and shoes, and looked at me as if I were a mad woman straight from the depths of hell. His eyes were wide, mouth open. For a moment, I’d swear he wasn’t even breathing.
“I should open your mouth and force you to drink my curses straight from the veins you have opened. But then there would be no more room left for your
own.” I placed the opener in my other hand. “Killing you would give me a perverse, yet great pleasure. But if I were to kill you, it would be one more secret my husband has to keep from his father. And it’s more blood on my hands that I don’t need, which is evident in more ways than one.” I moved closer and whispered as his eyes grew even more enlarged. “But I could kill you if I wished, never forget that. Never forget that at anytime, day or night, I could have you summoned here. And I could force your family to watch you die.”
We stared at one another for a long time, so intensely, neither of us blinked until he finally broke it off.
“Mistress?” Brigita entered with one of Norvack’s men. The Sheriff staggered away from me as soon as he heard her voice, as if it were an opening for his great escape. I never removed my eyes from his, despite his everlasting determination to refrain from looking in my direction any longer. “The prince is awake and wishes to see you.” she said.
The Sheriff had pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the sweat from his head. I chortled, watching him fumble about.
“You’re free to leave,” I informed him. He wobbled toward the door. And then I remembered. “Wait!” He turned to me and sneered. “The sword. Where have you placed it?”
He rolled his eyes to the corner and spoke in a low, nearly inaudible voice. “It’s gone. One of my men stole it, disappeared from the country weeks ago.”
I smiled. “I wish I could believe that. I wish that I could very well believe that your refusing to look me in the eye as you speak is due to your fear, and not your amorality.” We stared strongly at one another for seconds more. He broke away first. “Never forget, my dear Sheriff. Never forget what I am capable of, in case you happen to feel a bit cocky at some point for any reason on your way out the door. If I learn that you indeed have the sword…”
He nodded timidly and bowed, though remained avoiding me, and swiftly exited with the member of Norvack’s court.
I waved my hands in relief at his taking my intimidation to heart, though I felt like vomiting, and Brigita hurried forward when she saw the blood on my fingers.
“My God!” she shrieked, yanking my wrists down to examine my hands. The letter opener slipped to the floor and I twisted in a bit of pain at her grabbing me so tight. Her eyes wiggled back and forth as she saw the opener, and me covered in blood. “Cinder, you’re in need of a physician!”
“No,” I stated firmly. “No, I only need something to wipe my hands and stop the bleeding.”
“Who did this?”
“Brigita--”
“The Sheriff! Has he done this to you?” She looked to the floor. “Did he attack you with that letter opener? You must inform Norvack immediately! He would have him hanged and then beheaded for it!”
My head snapped up; the wheels in my mind began to turn and turn and turn. I felt crazy for a moment, but… I could, I thought to myself. No one would need to know the truth, nor ask questions. All that mattered was having him gone, finally gone on the orders of the prince on the charge of physically attacking me.
I looked in Brigita’s eyes as they grew more and more concerned for me. And then I swallowed hard and pulled back, shaking my head. “No, he didn’t,” I finally told her. I looked at my hands and realized I had finally stopped bleeding for the moment, but the blood between my fingers was forcing them to stick together. “I need something to wipe my hands. I can’t allow Norvack to see me in this manner.”
She bent forward and ripped a piece of cloth from the inside of her gown and began wiping down my hands. She moved her head about and scrunched her nose, seeming puzzled. “What occurred between you two?”
“No more than usual. A threat or two between us.”
“Who won the battle?”
“Despite my condition, I’m certain a victorious one stands before you.” She looked at me and we both smiled. “Though I fear it won’t last.”
“You must inform the prince of this incident, Cinder.”
“No. I don’t wish to worry him with it, especially now. And the Sheriff has cooled off for the time being.”
“Perhaps, but what about tomorrow, or the day following?”
“I’m grateful for your concern, but there is truly no need to worry. But if in fact the time ever comes, I shall deal with it then. I know it would be easy to rid this country of the Sheriff. An enormous burden would be lifted from my shoulders and I would no longer need to worry of his harassment. But aside from worrying Norvack, if his father were to learn the truth, he’d behead his own son.”
“But the prince is his own flesh and blood. You believe the king would truly--”
“Yes. The man sent his own ‘flesh and blood’ to battle and didn’t give a damn whether he lived or died, as long as he performed the duty of serving in his place. I believe if Norvack had in fact died, the king feels it would’ve been better than a bedridden prince.”
Brigita dropped her hands from mine and twisted her face in confusion. “Do you believe that?”
“I do… In the meantime, the blood from the carpet needs to be cleaned immediately. And the letter opener, destroyed.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Thank you. Now, I must tend to Norvack.”
I reached his room in what felt like a matter of seconds, and pushed back on the door. He was sitting upright reading a book by candle light, as he continued to refuse the natural light from the sun’s rays. As I walked in further, he looked over at me and beamed. Then he placed a gold coin inside the pages he had been reading, closed the book and placed it upon his nightstand. I moved in closer and noticed his eye was no longer black and blue, and the swelling in his face had greatly minimized. Aside from a few soft bruises here and there, he was vastly beginning to look like himself once more.
I placed my hands before my waist and raised my head. “You called for me?”
“Yes. I hadn’t seen you all morning.” He nodded. “Sit.” I took a seat beside him on the bed and he took my hands in his. When I recoiled, his eyes darted straight down to them. A few streaks of blood were still prominent on my fingertips. He arched a brow and looked at me, then pushed my fingers back and saw the small cuts in the center of my palm. “You’re bleeding,” he said in an anxious tone. His eyes widened as he rubbed over my palm, his fingers stroking against the cuts.
“I was, yes--”
“Who did this? What happened to you?”
“Do not concern yourself, Norvack. I’m fine now, and here to care for you.”
“Cinder.”
I sighed and looked away. I knew if I had informed him of the truth, he would murder the Sheriff with his bare hands.
“I was in the gardens with Brigita,” I finally explained, “tending to my gardenias and your mother’s roses. The thorns… There’s no need for you to worry.” He wasn’t sure whether to believe me, as his expression was still dubious. I rested my other hand on his cheek, hoping to distract him. His face was warm, and wet from perspiration from overnight. “You need a compress.” I went over to the bucket filled with cool water and wiped my hands down with a wet cloth. Then I dipped the compress into the bucket, squeezing out all excess fluids and returned to his side. “The physician informed me that you would feel feverish without truly suffering from a fever. Something about your immune system and the open wound near your heart that’s still healing. How did you sleep last night?”
“Not well. I turned to look for you in the middle of the night and you weren’t there as you had been before.”
I lifted my brows. “Oh. Well, the physician also informed me that it would be best for you to spend a few nights alone.”
“Best for me, to be without you.”
“For a few nights at best, yes.”
He soured. “In that case, I shall seek another physician who shall tell me what I wish to hear.”
I rattled my head and laughed a little. “Norvack--”
“He shall inform me that every night with you makes me stronger. That
lying next to you, smelling and tasting the natural perfumes of your skin on my tongue, heal me in more ways than a medicinal ever could. You’re my drug of choice. My queen.”
I smiled softly. “I’m no queen, prince.”
“You shall be someday, standing at my side.”
He reached up and stroked my face. His fingers were warm against the coolness of my skin. I softened against him despite myself, turning my face inward to embrace his touch, the gentleness of his hand, and the feeling it gave me, the feeling of passion and pure ecstasy as it traveled throughout my body, from my mind to my fingertips, from my groin to the edges of my toes. My pulse heightened, the blood in my veins pumped heavily. I wanted to taste him, I wanted to feel him inside me. I swallowed hard and opened my mouth. I turned my lips to the palm of his hand and extended the tip of my tongue, licking his skin. He tasted of honey and salt.
Norvack moved his fingers around to my lips, sliding them back and forth. And then he leaned forward, groaning.
I pulled back upon hearing the noise. “We shouldn’t. You’re still recovering and I don’t wish to make it more difficult for you.”
“Pain is of no matter to me now,” he said. “Let me taste you.”
My breathing increased and my heart raced. He made a pained face, but continued leaning forward anyway.
“We can’t,” I muttered, shoving him back a little. “Not until you’re well.”
He raised his brows and curled his lips upward. “Then it’s a promise. One I hope you intend to keep, my favorite girl.”
I didn’t answer. He dropped back against the headboard and smiled.
I picked up the compress and gently pat his skin, trying to avoid his eyes as he stared at me and licked his lips.
“You’re positively breathtaking today,” he said.
“The lack of sleep has indeed taken its toll. You’re delirious.”
“Not entirely.”
I looked down at myself and sniffed. “My clothes are crumpled due to the garden, and despite Brigita’s help in grooming, my hair has been a mess of curls since the morning.”
“Then I can imagine you after we’ve made love.” He laughed, and just like before, the lines crinkled around his eyes. “I may be a bit delirious from the lack of sleep I’ve gotten without you here, but it doesn’t make what I said, or believe any less true.”
