The Understudy of an Alchemist

28. An Unwilling Participant

The fact that Andrew and his hippy cult wouldn't lend me any clothes to wear seemed to just be more evidence about how callous their nature to me was. Well, at least for Andrew; his hippy cult I couldn't blame, as far as I was aware they'd never met a teenage girl before.

I was still wearing my nightgown from last night, which was still speckled with dirt from chasing after the black rocks. My hair is matted from having blindfolds and burlap sacks ripped on and off my head as well, making me look like a deranged fairy-tale witch.

At least I'm not barefoot. Before we'd left, Varian had insisted that I borrow his spare pair of boots. Apart from my snug winter boots, I'd never worn boots before, they were much more comfortable than I'd imagined.

However, that possibly made me look weirder, as I barely knew any women who wore boots, especially with messy hair and a dirt stained nightgown.

It also now had a somewhat newly acquired bloodstain from the previous night, it's basically a small splatter, it could easily been explained away as residue from a bloody nose, or split lip; if it wasn't for the gruesome barely healing wound from the knife forming on my neck.

I just hope that it doesn't scar.

Varian however, had also thought of that. "Violet!" He called as I'd went to leave, at which I turned, "Yes?" He held out a small red scarf that was only a couple of inches bigger than a handkerchief. I take it, confused. "Uh...thanks?" He shook his head, before pointing to the wound on my neck. "You may need it, to cover the-" I nod. "Thank you."

I begin fiddling with the scarf, struggling to tie it. It's at this point that he leans in and does it himself. "I'm sorry."  He whispers, as he leans in,  I which I shake my head in response. "I'm reall-" at which Andrew comes in angrily, "What's taking you so long? We're on a time crunch, if you haven't noticed."

At his words, Varian turns to him, angry. "Why do you need her to pull off this plan? Why can't you use one of your cronies-" Smiling, Andrew silently points to himself, then points to me. I know what he means. Brown eyes, pale skin, black hair. We do look almost like father and daughter.

Yet, I most certainly agreed with Varian. After that slime of a man held that knife to my throat, I seemed to have started projecting a beam of hatred towards him. He disgusted me. I wanted nothing more to do with him.

So as I begin to falter slightly, as I stare sorrowfully across the courtyard; Andrew rolls his eyes and storms up to me, seizing my shoulders. "Hurry up. I don't have time for dawdling." I wrench free from his grip. "Don't touch me." I warn, stiffening defensively.

"If you keep on being a stiff, you'll end up with a knife in your stomach." He calmly retorts, yet I can tell that he's holding back his anger. He then snatches my wrist and starts yanking me down the cobblestoned streets. "If you keep struggling," He whispers coldly into my ear. "We'll get arrested." I personally would enjoy seeing him get arrested, yet I hold back the urge and comply with his request.

His gait however, is considerably more faster and with larger strides than mine, so it's quite awkward trying to match it. We finally approach the gates, "Just let me do the talking." Andrew snarls, before yanking me towards them. I pray that the guards would see through Andrew's pitiful disguise, which is basically him undoing his man-bun (yeuk).

Yet the guards must be thicker than I thought, as they don't appear to recognise any of us. They hold up their guarding spears. "State your purpose." One booms, at which Andrew grins,  releases my wrist and takes my hand instead. "My daughter and I are here to see the King and Queen. We were summoned by Princess Petunia."