𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 3 Chapter 47 JAYLAH
"No," I said immediately to Alexander's demand. "We must keep going for the day."
"After that fiasco? Surely you want to forget your guilt over the situation. Or are you too coldhearted to care?"
I unsheathed Zensa's blade from my waist. "Keep talking and I will cut you open like a roast pig."
"Besides," he said, ignoring the top of the blade I was pointing at him, "It's my birthday today. You have to put the vigilant master business aside for one day and let me do as I please."
"Right," I drawled. "I might as well hand you my blade while we are at it."
"Agreed." He made a lazy move to snatch it from me but I was too swift. "Your timely death would be the greatest present anyone has ever given me."
Regretfully, I sheathed the blade. "You would not be the first with that sentiment. Come. We must be going."
I turned and went down the length of the pillared building, passing by the several flat series of stairs up to the statuesque entryway before I heard Alexander following me. "You know," he said, "I could give many reasons to my hate for you—your coldness, your general air of blown-up importance, your self-seeking tendencies—but I think the most detestable is your lack of any shred of enjoyment at all."
"Being entertaining does not win one power." A horse drawn carriage waited for us as we crossed the street, the horses' breaths steaming in the cold air. "Although I do expect being threatened at knifepoint is your preferred sort of amusement."
"Sometimes," he admitted. "Though it depends who's on the other end."
"I will be sure to remember that. Perhaps I will be amusing to you after all."
There was a moment only filled by the sounds of the city: hooves on stone, carpenters hammering away, crackling ovens in the bakeries on every corner. Then Alexander said: "Perhaps it was life in the castle that stunted your social skills so largely. I imagine being a general terror to everyone around you did wonders for your connecting with friends."
"I have adequate social skills. I simply choose not to talk to someone like you." A pause. I gave an imperceptible breath. "If it will make you cease your foolish analysis on my psyche, I will give you one hour out of our day to celebrate as you wish." Before he could get another word in, I put up a finger. "No bloodshed. No exposing my identity. And no trifling with the locket."
Smirking at my reluctant permission, he said, "Wait here a minute," and disappeared around the corner. I would allow him two minutes before assuming he was making a run for it.
Standing all alone, I unslung the pack from my shoulder and felt for the locket inside. I repeated this action for what seemed like a hundred times a day. Only once my fingers closed around the textured jewels was my paranoia sated. I knew my world would shrink significantly once I had the prize Daggen coveted, but now I felt the full weight of the responsibility of carrying it home. If I went through all the trouble of locating and retrieving it only for Daggen to steal it back, I would never forgive myself for being so close.
