Eyes, Blood, Hell - FINISHED

Chap. 8

I unsheathed my sword and advanced toward the hooded man.

"WAIT!" He said suddenly.

I narrowed my eyes.

The man dropped his knife and backed away.

....What?

"P—please! Don't harm me! I give, I give! I SURRENDER!"

What.... the heck... was going on?

"Who are you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Mark! Mark Timbal!"

I pulled Dan towards me, then situated him behind me, just in case the man ambushed all of a sudden.

Dan hugged me, tucking his face into the back of my neck. His nose was so cold, but his skin felt so smooth— wait, hold on, this isn't the time for that.

"Why did you try to kill the prince?" I demanded.

"I was ordered to! To act like I was going to! Maybe even kill the prince for real if I needed to!" Mark said.

"Who? Who ordered you to do all that?" I pressed.

"I— I don't know! I really don't!" Mark said, shaking.

I pointed my sword at his throat.

"Okay, okay! I know who!" Mark said hurriedly.

"Better speak fast, or else." I spat.

"L—Lo—" Mark began to say.

And all of a sudden, he was clutching at his throat.

No, he was choking.

I gasped. Choking. That was how the guard from before had been killed. So was this Mark guy being ordered by whoever that guard who had pretended to be the culprit was— no, had— been under control by?

But how were the guard and this Mark guy choking on nothing...?!

Magic.

I clapped a hand over my mouth in shock.

Someone was using magic. Black magic. Forbidden to all since black magic could kill so seamlessly.

Did someone kill the king and queen with black magic? But doing that would have left no blood, but there was blood.

Or was the blood an illusion?

Ugh, this was all making my head hurt.

There was a sudden thud. Mark was on the floor, dead too.

Dan peered over my shoulder and then gasped.

"The— The man— He— He—" Dan stuttered, eyes wide.

I took a deep breath, then explained what had happened to me with the guard and my suspicions of Lord Malcoy.

Dan shuddered, taking in all the new information.

He grabbed my hand unconsciously, squeezing it.

My face heated up— it shouldn't. He's just a friend. Just a friend.

Justafriendjustafriendjustafriend—

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Dan tugged me shirt.

"Huh?"

"You should probably go check the identity of that man." Dan suggested. "You know, like you always do."

"Oh, uh, right!" I said.

What was wrong with me lately?!

I briskly walked over and pulled the hood down. Mark was... a young man, probably not much older than Prince/King Arther.

Dark brown hair, deep tanned skin. A thin scar on his right cheek.

Hm.