Darelle

29

Rumpel was furious. After two and half day of riding to the capital, his anger gained more fire as he behold a town not far from the forest that led to the capital.

Since he had swapped place with Marisa, who was currently resting as her human nature demanded. His eyes caught something and he turned to see a bright, blue light—illuminate from the top of his wide opened bag.

The neigh of the horse called for his attention and he lead them to the place where he wanted to be in, the most. He continued to push on as a million thoughts kept him awake.

But the time Marisa had fully aware of her surroundings. He was already charging to the palace. Once they reached the gate, he dropped down to see the guards had guard the entrance, had their puny hands up and pointed their pathetic weapons at him.

Groaning his frustration and irritation at his promise not to hurt a soul or three, even when they were standing before him and Darelle. Little amount of grace, mercy and patience he had allotted to himself during the past few weeks had seized.

With the humans' inability to think for their welfare, wasting no time he stretched his right hand to them and in seconds—the weapon of warfare—blades and daggers pulled from their hands and floated to his side, and he armed it right at them.

"Move."

And they did as well as going on their knees.

Marisa followed him with his bag in her hand and guided through the palace as he saw the staffs sidestepped him as he was on his doleful way to the princess's chambers. On seeing the mean looking  men, guarding his imprisoned lover, he raised his hand, lifting them to the mid air before he swung them straight into the wall, knocking them out.

He burst the doors open to set his sight on Darelle and his heart ached at the sight of her bruised face as he wondered what truly happened in his absence. Tears fell down her palms that she cried into and noticing their presence . . . she lifted her head to him and even greater pain greeted his heart. Vulnerable. She was so vulnerable.

He took a step toward her, but she backed away until the bed blocked her from going further as she covered her ears, and shook her head. "Go away." she yelled. "Rum isn't dead, he won't left us. He promised us . . . that he won't."

His ears caught a word. Us. Did it mean what he thought it might? He hurried to her side and watched her. "Darelle." he called as he kneeled by her side. "I'm here." he told her.

Refusing to believe him, she shook her head, even as her best friend called her name. He couldn't imagine what she had seen to deny the fact that they were alive and tormenting her in a sort of way from their supposed death.

Seeing nothing worked to draw her out of her shell, he placed his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out the very fabric she had written on, showing her he wasn't an illusion. He was real. "I will never leave you. Even unto death." he told her with a warm smile.

The princess' eyes looked down the material before looking back up at him, and calmness washed over her like a gentle breeze. "Rum." she called his name in a breathy voice.

A weak smile lifted his face. "Yours truly." he replied as he spread his arms open.

And she flung into his arms and hugged her like he was never letting go of her, again. "You came. I couldn't stop them from hurting Halon." Darelle pulled back to search his eyes.

He raised his right hand to pat her head. "It's okay. We will save him." And with the help of Marisa, he assisted her to her feet.

Together, they all marched to the hall, where the Council was—or hid at his coming. He saw two dozen guards stood against them but he was in no merciful mood for jokes.