The boy's figure stared intently at Emília. Was he going to kill her?
Her feet automatically took a step back. She was afraid. The "monster" wiped the blood from his mouth with his shirt sleeve and laughed.
"Yes, he's going to kill me, no doubt about it," the girl thought, her face frozen in horror. It's curious how, when we realize danger is real, we don't just cry—we tend to freeze. Sometimes, the tears don't even fall due to the sheer terror and anxiety.
"Now... it's just you left..." he said, taking a few steps toward Emília. "You begged so hard for them not to kill you before, but now you have nothing to say?"
Emília opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The boy was just a few meters away, getting closer and closer. Even if she ran, she knew she couldn't escape his attack.
"I-I... I don't..." she finally murmured, her voice trembling. "I don't have any money..."
The blond boy laughed again, now standing beside her.
"Hey, hey, I'm just messing with you, relax," he said, stretching his arms. "Are you okay? Did those guys scare you?"
Emília burst into tears, unable to speak for a while. The boy kept staring at her and offered her a flask of water, which she sipped before speaking again.
"Sorry... I don't usually act like this," she said, trying to explain herself. "They were looking for money, but I don't have any."
He glanced at her shorts pockets, turned inside out, and started laughing again.
"You're a strange one," he said, taking the flask back. "Let's go to the tavern. You can explain everything there."
"If I say no, he'll kill me," Emília thought. "But if I say yes... will he kill me anyway? I don't know..."
"Sure, let's go," she agreed.
They reached Alfredo's tavern, which was a short distance away. The place had a rustic, cozy feel. Its walls were made of small, unpainted red bricks, stacked together. The smell of roasted meat was mouthwatering and made Emília's stomach growl.
"Sorry... It's been a while since I ate," she said, embarrassed, looking down at the floor.
The boy didn't say anything and headed to the center of the tavern, which had an oval-shaped bar with a wide variety of drinks. After a while, he returned, picked a table, and they sat down.
They remained silent, simply staring at each other for a moment.
"The guy with the mustache said you have a magical mark on your face," he started. "Are you from nobility?"
"No..." Emília began. "My parents are small merchants, but I have magic, unlike them."
"There are no commoners with magic," he said, his gaze sharp.
"Well, I'm one of them," Emília shot back, her expression hardening. The way he said "commoners" had an edge of disdain.
"Roast lamb with rice, gentlemen," the waiter announced, arriving with a cart full of food. "Anything else?"
"A dessert for her," the blond boy said, and the waiter nodded.
"How do you know I like sweets?" Emília asked, still annoyed with him.
"Anyone who uses mana needs a quick source of energy to recover," he said. "And you don't seem like someone who spends much time on the battlefield, so I figured you use your powers for something more... domestic?"
Emília let out a quick laugh, but before she could hide it, he noticed.
"You look better when you laugh," he said, pushing a lock of his own hair out of his face.
"Alright, I'll tell you a little about how I ended up here," the girl began. "I work in a library, and my magic is the ability to read quickly."
"What? What kind of magic is that?"
"Can I continue my story?"
"Okay, but let's agree it's a... strange power?"
"Yes, I know," she said, coughing before continuing her tale. "I've been working in the library for a few months. But one day, we were attacked. During the escape, I was captured. I managed to escape, and now I'm here."
The blond boy observed her for a moment before speaking again.
"What's your name?"
"Emília. I forgot to ask yours."
"Edward. I'm the one who bought you."
"What?!" Emília asked, furious, just as the waiter returned with the dessert. It was a slice of pudding with a heart-shaped caramel design.
"You may go now," Edward said, and the waiter left. "The prince of your kingdom told me a lot about you. He said I could use your abilities, and with them, we'll form an alliance between the two kingdoms. I hope you don't disappoint me, Emília."
The girl stared at him seriously. After a few moments, a flashback of her past life surfaced in her mind. She had once held a newspaper that mentioned the name of the king of Drakondia. Edward I was known for his blood magic. He could control blood to his advantage, both his own and that of his enemies. But it came at a cost: he needed to drink the blood of the slain to maintain his strength. He had been responsible for the great betrayal alongside Arthur, and the two had led a massacre.
"I refuse to help you," Emília said, standing up to leave. Suddenly, she felt a wave of heat surge through her body, and her legs carried her back to the chair on their own. The pain was unbearable, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.
"This isn't a request," he said, and she lowered her head for a moment. She should have known she would be captured—no plan was ever as easy as what she had been doing at the library.
But, if there were still books to read, there was still hope of avoiding war. And sometimes, being close to the enemy is better than being far away.
"Alright... I see I don't have any other options."
"We'll leave tomorrow," he said, standing up and offering his hand to the girl, who refused it and got up on her own. "Your room is number 23. I've already taken the key."
Emília took the key from Edward's hand and went up the stairs of the tavern. Her room was small but cozy. It had a bed with a soft blanket and a little table with a small book on it.
Before lying down, the girl read a few passages.
"Nothing in life happens by chance, and not everything goes as planned because we are not the authors of it."
It was true. She lay down and drifted off to sleep, reflecting on those words as tears silently fell from her eyes.