The Witch's Cursed Daughter

90. Past Grudges

"Your Ladyship!" Romile cried as he dashed over to her, his rusty hair catching the soft light reflected by the tiny jewels left among the sheets. Panting slightly as excitement and dread battled within him, he extended his hand to ever-so-gently touch her skin. Romile's face exposed his panic as her bones felt present as he met her arm. He tried to shake her softly awake with no response; yet again, there was not as much as a blink. Standing back, he examined the girl; her eyes, which sat open, were still violet. She was still small and thin, yet she had become much more delicate than he remembered. Her hair had faded to appear almost white.

"Why won't she respond?" he asked the two behind him, not caring who answered.

"She's in a catatonic state," Davore replied as if she were stating the obvious. "Due to the abuse she has suffered under the princess, it's fair to guess that she locked her mind away to escape the pain. There are various..." the Mage trailed off and stared at Evianna with wide eyes. "The magical energy is spiking again," darting forward, Davore arrived at the opposite side of the bed to Romile. Placing her hands tenderly onto Evianna's chest, Davore closed her eyes and forced a long breath through her teeth.

After a moment, light began to rush from Evianna's chest into Davore's hands. The light moved as if it had free reign and swirled with delight as it had somewhere else to go. When the flow slowed, the Mage pulled away, her breath uneven, her face drained; closing her golden eyes, Davore's hands trembled as if they were cold as the power faded.

"What did you do?" Romile had watched the entire episode, waiting for an explanation. He looked to Wen, who had shaken his head to prevent an interruption.

"Your Imperial Highness, the time between bursts is shortening," Davore articulated roughly between breaths, ignoring Romile.

"What bursts?" Romile questioned.

"Has there been a change in her consciousness," Wen asked Davore, also ignoring Romile.

"Not at all," the Mage responded.

"Davore!" Romile roared.

As Romile's outburst hung in the air, clinging to the surrounding plants, Wen reached up to press his fingers against his eyes again. It took no longer than a minute for the prince to compose his answer. Looking to Romile, his emerald eyes unwavering, he said, "I would have liked it to have remained hidden. When I struck our deal, handing over such a dangerous gift to my brother was not my intention. Evianna is a Witch, and one with explosive power."

"That's impossible. Voster checked her magical energy when she arrived; he said that there was nothing, no chance that she was like her mother."

"Well, he was wrong," Wen retorted, casting his gaze over Evianna as he moved closer.

Romile felt as though a hole had been gouged in his stomach. Seeing her frame rise and fall with shallow breaths reminded him that she was still alive. He quickly considered her condition and drew his conclusion without further thought, "We have to leave. This changes nothing."

As Romile knelt, positioning himself to lift Evianna's body, Davore interjected, "With her power increasingly surging, it will be difficult moving her."

"And what do you suggest? We leave her here?" Romile growled in irritation.

"We will not," Wen stated firmly, surprising the others. Keeping his eyes firmly on Evianna, he queried, "Davore, can you control her power while we move?"

"I can try," Davore answered dimly as she followed his gaze.

"Then let's go," Romile shouted as he scooped Evianna into his arms. Her petite frame weighed less than he had expected; as her head knocked against his chest, Romile could envelop her body in his arms without any trouble. As he glanced at her face, still watching nothing through empty eyes, once again he felt his stomach ache like a void.

"I hate to interrupt, Your Imperial Highness," Romile's thoughts halted as an unfamiliar voice crawled from the jungle. The three all jumped, their gazes darting in the direction of the voice. Finding a large, bear-like man standing at the entrance to the path they had travelled along, the three examined his rough figure, barely hidden under a palace uniform of green and black. Politely bowing, the man's deep tenor carried across the space once again, "I am under orders of Imperial Princess Illea, and I have been charged with protecting the girl in that Guard's arms."

Romile eyed the man who held an odd sensation of acquaintanceship, "You look familiar. Have we had the pleasure of meeting before?"

"I can't say I recognise you. Now, please return the girl to the bed; she needs rest," the man replied, continuing his juxtaposition between polite manners and intimidating stature.

"Abner Faris," Romile whispered, "You were the Jailer in The Chamber, were you not?"

"You have heard of me?" the huge man grinned in reply.

"Why, of course. After all, aren't you the man who personally whipped the second prince and his personal Guard?" Romile's words quivered as anger seethed throughout his muscles, and his fingers itched to grab his sword. "Do you recognise me? Or should I turn around so that you can see my back?"

Faris stared quizzically at Romile, trying to understand his meaning for a moment. As the realisation dawned on him, his face grew pale, and a noticeable sweat decorated the skin beneath his nose, "You're that Guard."

"I am that Guard," Romile sneered menacingly, "I must say your skill with a whip is inspiring. Is your skill with a sword the same?"

"Pardon?"

Amused by the evident panic that Faris was in, Romile relaxed his expression, playing with the giant man's fear. "Well, we are leaving, the girl included, and if you don't get out of the way, you'll find my blade in your chest."

"I'm afraid... I have to insist that you leave the girl here before you depart," Faris held his ground, his feet shifting to widen his stance as if he were blocking the way.

"I see," Romile's eyes flickered with excitement, a feeling he knew that he would have discouraged in Julian, yet at this moment, he did not care. "Your Imperial Highness, take care of Her Ladyship." Wen stepped forward awkwardly, allowing Romile to place Evianna in his embrace.

Turning away, Romile faced Faris, who had already drawn his sword. A hungry smile settled onto Romile's face as he enjoyed the adrenaline tumbling through his veins. Bringing his own sword to the ready, he waited eagerly for the duel to begin.