Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 39-3: Rummy

DAY 39-3: RUMMY

"WHERE'S THE ALCOHOL?"

"G-General Paola, you shouldn't be drinking so early—"

"Don't tell me what to do!" She knocks aside the chef, seizing another can of alcohol on the table before her. Baring her teeth, she spits. The other chefs stand a safe distance, drowned by fear. Paola gulps the drink in mere seconds and crumples the can, chucking it to the floor with enough force to dent it. "Ugh!" she hisses, a fire smouldering in her eyes. "That filthy Spade! Where did he disappear to?"

Without a care for the reception hall they had meticulously prepared for the wedding, Paola continues to ravage the room; stealing more cans from the table and socking them across the room and causing loud-scale destruction.

It was never a good idea to interact with her whenever she lost her cool.

"Paola. Paola. Paola," Uno calls, creeping up from behind. Likewise, he's adorned in the fanciest clothes in his possession, although his black cloak still hangs over and shields his eyes. "Paola. Paola. Paola—"

"Shut up, Uno!" Paola shrieks. "You're driving me madder than the Queen herself!"

Uno can only titter at her frustration, more so at her soiled sword she has aimed to his neck. Her features are scrunched in agitation, right eyelid twitching.

"Paola," he goes on anyway. "Paola. Paola. Uno has already—"

"I don't care, Uno!" Paola screeches. "I already personally torture the one we brought to the palace. And last night, I definitely sliced that girl's head clean off her neck. But there should be two others! A Spade in particular! There's another Spade hidden inside these castle walls!"

Uno pauses. "But. But. But. Uno has—"

"SHUT UP!?"

The entire room is forced to quake. Debris crumble from the ceiling, leaving the servants and chefs alike, blanch. Paola growls through her clenched teeth.

   "Send troops to search the castle!" she yells. "I am catching these two if it's the last thing I do!"

   "Paola. Paola. Paola. Uno has already—"

   "JUST SHUT UP, UNO!"

♥♦♣♠

   "You look absolutely stunning."

   Valentina stands before a mirror, admiring the dress her servants have prepared for her. A fitted bodice that comes in at the waist then flares out to a full, floor-length skirt with lots of volume. Her hair that had been made the night before remains in a braid at her side, cute white pins and hearts decorations amidst.

She takes a peek at the dress she had originally planned for this day, the one the Queen had worn to her coronation. Who'd have thought in just a couple of hours she'd hear she's to marry her older step-brother.

"If you're merely going to stand there you may as well come in," Valentina calls, her fingers caressing the nearby cage where her crow familiar sits.

Accordingly, a chuckle fills the air. He strolls right in at that, and the servants that have been tending to her drop their gazes and immediately excuse themselves. Avel watches them with his eyes and when the last one scampers out, shutting the door behind her, he fixes his gaze onto his sister.

   His smile reaches his eyes. "I mean what I said, though. Dolled up all cute like that."

   Valentina rolls her eyes. "If you came here to make me feel queasy, you've already succeeded."