"YOU KNOW WHO I am then?"
Gabriel nods, his tired green eyes never leaving hers as he reaches for the glass of red wine resting amongst the mess of books. He downs it quickly and then abruptly launches it across the room, neither of them watching as the crystal shatters against one of the bookshelves.
"Are you happy now? Does it make you feel better seeing me like this? Will your cold, dead heart start beating again once I'm gone?"
Maisie only smiles at Gabriel's outburst. "No."
"No," Gabriel says in amazement, letting out a bitter laugh. "So what do you even get out of this?"
She says nothing. Maisie stares calmly, wondering how he feels about seeing his own eyes looking back at him. Does the fury at finding out what she's done override the guilt? Does he even feel anything?
The king runs a hand down his face, rubbing at his tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes with exhaustion. "Just get it over with."
"Where's the fun in that?" Maisie asks, gliding further into the room and trailing a slender finger slowly across one of the shelves, drawing a symbol in the dust. It's an N, made to look like a constellation, dotted with circles at each point. Maisie had always thought it looked boring — too plain to be the symbol for a renown assassin group — but as she looks at it now, she feels a hint of pride.
"You look like your mother," Gabriel says suddenly, the tone of his voice unreadable. Maisie turns to him and lets her face match his voice.
"Not really."
"No, you do. Not the eyes obviously, but everything else..." he trails off, his eyes unfocused, staring at the wooden floor.
"She's dead, you know."
Gabriel makes a vague noise of agreement, nodding his head slowly, sluggishly, and Maisie tilts her head to the side in confusion. How does he know she's dead already?
"Where's Xavier?" Maisie demands, eyes narrowing as Gabriel's lips begin to tug upwards, a breathy laugh filling the stale air.
"Sent him away. We were going to go with him, Marissa and I... but she was too sick to go."
Maisie grinds her teeth together in annoyance. She had planned on eliminating the entire family all at once. I guess he really did take my threats seriously.
"The castle is suspiciously low on guards," she says, joining him at the table.
He runs a shaky hand through his graying brown hair and leans back, staring her down with an empty look in his eyes. "They deserted."
"Excuse me?" Surprise laces Maisie's words, making her berate herself.
Gabriel shrugs a shoulder, trying — and failing — to look nonchalant. "A lot of them left. Deserted. Rebelled. Whatever you want to call it."
"Why?"
"Why? Are you fucking kidding me?" Gabriel says incredulously. "Is this not what you had planned?"
"Uh, no," Maisie laughs bluntly. "I just wanted to murder you and your family."
Gabriel gives her a mocking smile. "Charming."
Her eyes roll and she pulls out her knife, waving it around threateningly. "Why are they rebelling exactly?"
"You and this Flora and Fauna bullshit have had more impact then anyone realizes. Our nonroyal guards have fled, the people of Cape Carnelian have started to rise up against us. Everything is falling apart quickly."
Maisie can't help but throw her head back and laugh. "That's hilarious. Rebellion was never my intention, trust me. It's more of an added bonus."
Gabriel doesn't say anything. Instead, he stands and spreads his arms out, as if asking for a hug. "Should we get this over with?"
"You're really eager to die," she says with a raised brow.
"Maybe I'm just tired of seeing your face," he retorts childishly.
"Haunts you, doesn't it?"
He smiles lazily. "No. I have nothing to feel guilty for."
"What?" It's in that moment when Maisie's composure finally breaks. Her face twists in anger and, in the blink of an eye, the knife is out of her hand and in Gabriel's shoulder, making him rear back in both surprise and pain. He reaches for it but Maisie is quicker. She darts forward, yanking it out and plunging it back in, this time in his stomach. His scream of pain is music to her ears as she repeats her action over and over and over again, not stopping even when he falls limply to the ground, blood bubbling on his lips, unmoving. Her attacks are messy, frenzied, like a wild animal.
Later, when her head is clearer, she won't be able to remember how many times the blade entered his body. All she'll remember is the blood and the sweet melody that was his cries.
✦ ✦ ✦
ROUGHLY HALF AN HOUR passes before she pulls herself off the ground, her sticky arms and face painted with red. Her eyes don't even bother moving towards his body — that chapter of her life is over, the page has been turned, it's done.
Instead, she rips a piece of paper out of the front of a book, choosing one with a blank back. She looks around for something to write with but there's nothing so she opts for the only thing she can use to make the words she so desperately needs to release.
His blood.
Carefully, she dips a finger into his wounds, recalling with a smile when she did the same thing to that other royal, trying to send a message to the king.
This message isn't for him though. It's meant for his son.
Her finger slide across the paper easily, and when she's done, she holds it up in the air, admiring her work.
Two down, one to go. It's time to play, just like we did when we were children.
On your mark, get set, go.
Lots of love,
Selene
✦ ✦ ✦
