Wicked Chase

♚ Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 

Mariana Salvatore, the Queen of Deidrif, was alive.

The news spread like wildfire. Nobody knew how it was that she was alive and neither did I but they didn't know how we knew that my mother was alive. Yes, they questioned but when they couldn't find the answers they gave up because the joy of having their Queen back was more important.

And with this new information that had somehow leaked out to the Kingdom instead of keeping it within castle walls, brought many more people to offer their services for the Kingdom, to fight to get their Queen back and as I watched different people mill into the castle everyday I couldn't help but pause to look and admire their braveness. They would risk their lives to go into a war just to ensure that their Queen was safe and back in Deidrif, so that their Queen was rescued.

But what if their Queen couldn't be rescued?

I didn't tell anyone about what I saw in my nightmare a week ago. Merely thinking about how Thorin slashed that sword right through my mother's neck without any emotion and with such ease, it didn't only disgust me but it also frightened me. What if this nightmare was like my previous ones? I couldn't stop a war from approaching. Could I really stop Thorin from killing my mother?

Alastair knew that there was something about my nightmares that I refused to tell him and over this past week he'd casually insert the nightmare looking for answers and he'd prod a little too but once he would see my face paling, once he would see me return back into my shell of endless worry and panic of fear and grief, then he would drop it and gather me into his arms and kiss my forehead, his lips pressing against my naked skin relieving the tension that built up in my body and then he would say, "the odds are in our favour, Genevieve. Well win this war and bring your mother back. I promise."

I was so tempted to say, "yes, but will we bring her back alive?" But I didn't say those words. Instead I had said, "don't make promises that you're not certain of." And so Alastair and I made most the time we had together, both of us fully aware of the war.

I was strangely pleased to say that we had covered every inch of my room and his. 

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Archie Ignacio was quite a sight.

Alastair brought me to the sparring room at around three in the afternoon. The sparring room was now arranged differently with boards and targets aligned randomly throughout the room.

From all that happened this past week my mind was getting overloaded and for once I just didn't want to think. So Alastair said that it was time I had a little fun or a good laugh and that came in the form of his younger brother, Archie.

I haven't seen Archie before because while I was constantly exploring the castle, or at the Royal Library to look at the maps of Deidrif - before it was split - I never really took notice to the people around me. I noticed that they looked at me, stared a few seconds too long, but I didn't notice them. By that I mean I didn't really care who they were and right now as I watched Archie use his bow and arrow, placing his eyes in level with the bow, I am stunned and not by his handsomeness or similar features to Alastair but because in that moment where I observe him with Alastair by my side and watch him release the arrow from his hold, I see exactly what he does. The arrow hits the board, right in the centre and through the other other arrow.

"Damn," I muttered and I hear a light chuckle from my side.

I turn around to see Alastair grinning at his brother, his smile not hidden nor small but big enough to show just how much affection he has for his little brother and I felt something stir within my heart as I watched the swirl of grey in Alastair's eyes whirl with pride. "He's good, isn't he?"