The King's Cursed Bride

Goodnight

            

A chill cloaked Carissa's skin at Elon's words. "I think... I think you have this handled, Elon." Akasha, she could quite easily kill, but Tervalyn? When she was sitting in her bed, not even defending herself?

Elon shook his head. "This is for you to do, Carissa." He extended her dagger towards her.

Carissa took it, and its tip wavered as her hands trembled. "Elon—"

"You can do this, Carissa. You need to."

Carissa swallowed and neared Tervalyn.

Tervalyn hadn't moved. The whites of her eyes were visible as she stared at the dagger, blood draining from her face.

Carissa stopped an arm's reach from her.

Tervalyn straightened. "My Queen." Her chin wobbled until she clenched her jaw.

Wasn't Tervalyn going to fight? Beg for mercy? Try to escape? Carissa's gut twisted into knots. Elon's Foresight was sometimes ambiguous... Could he have been mistaken in this case?

"Carissa."

He said her name like a plea. Carissa raised her dagger. She'd trusted him in other things, and she would trust him in this as well. Carissa lunged forward, her dagger swiping through the air.

Tervalyn scrambled backwards, but not in time. There was a wet ripping noise, then a dull thud as the blade hit a rib bone. Tervalyn gasped and clasped a hand to her side, red bubbling between her fingers.

Carissa lifted the blade, glossy with blood. Something was wrong. On the inside, Akasha had been empty, and she hadn't bled. Which meant Elon had been mistaken.

Tervalyn's shoulders sagged as she stared at her bloodied nightgown. With a wound like that, she wouldn't be alive for much longer.

Elon sighed. "Carissa, you need to finish what you've started."

Carissa stared at the reddened dagger.

"Carissa—"

"I can't."

"You need to."

She turned, giving Tervalyn her back. "Why can't you?"

"This is for you alone to do. Trusting me now will lead to trusting me in the future, which will be necessary in Esmeray. Please finish her, Carissa."

When Carissa had agreed to be his bride, she hadn't known she'd be his executioner as well. She turned back towards Tervalyn. "I'm sorry."

Tervalyn offered her a waning smile. "It's–It's alright."

Carissa drew her arm back, took a deep breath, and drove the dagger forward, aiming for Tervalyn's chest.

***

Elon was going to be sick.

He watched as Carissa lunged forward, only for Tervalyn to dive to the side, cracking her head on the stone, though not before Carissa's dagger sliced a chunk of flesh from her shoulder.

Tervalyn's performance was excellent, her affected suffering seeming so real he winced in sympathy. Carissa was obviously convinced it was real—he could see it from his position behind her. Her hands trembled, her face paled. She swiped at Tervayln again, and the witch did as she'd done before: waited until the last moment, just long enough for Carissa's dagger to cut her, before darting out of the way and avoiding a truly life-threatening injury.

"Elon," her voice broke on his name.

He squeezed the handle of his sword until his knuckles ached, wishing he could nudge her aside and finish Tervalyn for her. But if Carissa didn't trust him this time, if she didn't learn through this experience, she'd pay for it dearly in the future. "You can do it, love."