I Can't Eat Love

Part 33

 "Will that be all your Majesty?"

A servant bowed before the King of Reterand, his face solemn and respectful. The King, sitting in his chair by the fireplace, glanced around the empty, well lit room before gesturing for the servant to leave.

"I do not wish to be disturbed." At his cold tone the servant flinched, before backing quickly out of the room.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Click.

The door closed behind him, and the King was alone. He stared into the fire, his hands clenched on the armrests of his chair.

"Why couldn't she just die?" He muttered, his face bitter. "Everything would have been settled if she were gone. I'll have to figure out something new..."

His voice trailed off as he blinked, a strange blue smoke was coming out of the fire, surrounding him. His eyes widened with shock and he opened his mouth to call out, but before any sound escaped he slumped into his chair, unconscious.

Watching through the peepholes in the secret passageway, I grinned at the sight.

______________________________

It took around ten minutes for the king to fully wake up. In that time the room had greatly changed. The lamps had dimmed, the majority of light in the space coming from the weakened fire behind the King's chair. A table was set before him, and across from him was an equally luxurious chair, in which I sat.

His gaze focused on me, and his face turned pale with fear. He opened his mouth once more to call out for help.

Thud.

A knife thrown from my hand passed right by his face, embedding itself into the wooden mantel of the fireplace behind him. A short distance over and it would have landed in his eye instead.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. I'm a nervous person, my hand tends to slip when I think loud noises will happen."

I watched him with satisfaction as he understood the meaning of my words:

Call out if you want to die.

"You're crazy." He whispered, his eyes locked onto the throwing knife in my hand.

"Really? How strange." I smiled gently "I'm not the one seeking my own destruction. But there doesn't have to be any unpleasantness, Your Majesty. I'm only here to talk."

"Talk?" He snorted. "You broke into the palace and drugged your king to have a talk? You bit..."

Thud. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of the blood running down his cheek and dripping onto the floor broke the only silence of the room. The King's eyes held equal parts pain and terror as his hand slowly rose up to his face, and he turned to look at the bloody knife embedded in the mantel next to the first.

"Again, I have to apologize." I held up a third knife, "I'm a very nervous person. It's hard for me to hear such unpleasantness."

"..." He grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it to the bleeding wound, studying me for a long moment.

"What do you want?"

I smiled at the sound of fear in his voice. "One simple question:" I leaned forward, staring into his eyes. "Why?"

The silence stretched on between us.

Why? Why had he schemed to bring me under his control? Why had he planned to hurt me, to kill me? Why had he hurt the ones I loved?