Hope woke in that fluffy bed she couldn't stand. Her head throbbed as if it was trapped in a vise while a torturer played with her skull. She heard a knock on the door that felt like a mace pounding directly on her head.
Ayala smiled at the door's edge. "Good evening!"
Hope's temples vibrated with the sound of the maid's voice. It took her a few moments to understand what the words meant. "What do you mean by evening?"
"I mean, you have been sleeping all day," Ayala said. "Are you telling me what happened last night?"
Hope sat with her eyes closed and tried to clear her thoughts. She remembered everything that happened in great detail until Drake put her head on his shoulder and told her she could sleep. When Hope remembered vomiting on the window, she felt horrified and ashamed, but those feelings passed quickly. It wasn't like she could go back in time and redo the past. She barely managed to stutter, "Can you bring me some water and some pickles, please? And then I promise I'll tell you."
By the time Ayala returned, Hope was in better condition. Now she could certainly have a conversation if they lowered their voices. "Before I tell you, can you first tell me how I got to my room?"
"That is simple." Ayala smiled. "I woke up in the morning and came to do my first chores of the day. I caught Lord Springwood climbing the stairs with you in his arms. At first, I was scared, thinking that something bad might have happened, but then I saw the smile on his face and how calmly he looked at you, so I believed it was for the better not to intervene. I've never seen him like this before! The lord was so peaceful and happy!"
Hope imagined Drake in that situation. In fact, he had acted like a gentleman throughout the night while she had been... oh well, let's just say her usual self. She needed to talk to him and find out if she had paved the way for a connection between the two of them last night or destroyed that possibility forever.
Hope ran to the door, stuffing another pickle into her mouth. "I will tell you more in the evening!"
"But it's already evening," Ayala murmured in disappointment.
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Drake was in the yard, practicing knife throwing. He already stuck more than twenty knives in the trunk of a tree, and he was preparing to throw the next one. His posture was straight and perfect, and the knife flew with astonishing speed after a short, undulating jerk from his shoulder, elbow, and wrist.
Hope sneaked in from the side, admiring the strong shape of his chin and the straight line of his nose. The wind blew strands of black hair against his perfect white cheeks. 'Even when he does lethal things, he still looks like a hell lord for whom anyone would be able to sell their souls,' Hope thought. She noticed that the knives already stuck in the tree's bark formed the letter H.
"Should I take that as a compliment or a threat?" Hope asked, amusement lacing her tone.
He neither looked at her nor smiled. "You can take it any way you want."
'Aha, it is obvious. Here we go again!' Hope thought resignedly and then continued with her outer voice without any hesitation. "Can we talk about last night?"
Drake threw the next knife, this time into another tree. "We have nothing to talk about. We both let our guard down and behaved like children. I indulged you according to our deal. It is over now."
He did not reach for the next knife to continue the exercise. Despite the birds announcing spring with a flurry of feathers, Hope could not break through the infernal silence and bleakness that hung between them. She did not want to listen to those words. She wanted to hear Drake, but not the words he said to her now. Hope was expecting something else… What? She was a fool! She sighed and asked boldly, "So, what do I have to do today?"
In a split second, Drake picked up the next knife and threw it a few millimeters from her leg. "We've been playing childish games for too long, and I want you to do what I actually brought you here to do. You have to get the beast out of me or kill it. The choice is yours, but we can no longer live in the same body. "
Hope froze and, inside her mind, saw again those incredible red eyes and the cage that held that magnificent creature captive. Was that gorgeous beast in Drake? She managed to recover and mutter, "I will try."
"Trying is not enough! You will succeed before winter comes, or your head will join Bernard's," said Drake, pointing to the ramparts of the castle, where the head of the etiquette teacher rested on a spike.
Hope's heart skipped a beat. Her big brown eyes were pinned on Bernard's head, making her look like a deer lost in a very dark place while trying to escape the big bad wolf. "Did that man die because of me?"
Drake's laughter accentuated her malaise, and unpleasant chills ran through her as his voice thundered. "That man made his choice when he decided to leave and not listen to me. He made that choice on his own. Now the same option is yours. You fulfill the task I set for you, or you fail. If you succeed, I offer in exchange your life, freedom, and a small token of gratitude per your desire. If you fail, I take your head to adorn the walls of my castle."
Hope was perplexed. She didn't see that coming. Is it possible to truly understand another human being? Even if we waste time and make serious efforts to get to know someone, in the end, how much do we manage to precisely understand what represents him as a person? However, perhaps most importantly, how can we tell if he really deserves to be known?