"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
The two women come rushing out of the room in shame, leaving the three of us in a rather awkward predicament. I watch with wide eyes, Valerius appears exasperated, and Aurelia is bursting red.
Hopefully, the naked women don't attract the attention of the thugs on their way out. That'd warrant more running, an act I'm not capable of at the moment.
"Can't ever stay put, can you?" Valerius sighs.
"That's hilarious coming from you." I snicker. There's no way he's criticizing me knowing the situation I found him in.
My husband, with his firm, scarred chest stands from the bed, barely clothed.
He smirks. It's irritating how attractive it is.
With less layers, less ornaments, he's even more frustratingly handsome. Raw, human but not quite.
"What did you do this time, my dearest wife? Killed somebody yet?"
"No." My heart skips a beat. If it isn't him, there's nobody to kill. "Not yet."
"Not as innocent as you make yourself out to be." His eyes travel to Aurelia, brow raised in curiosity.
"Your highness!" She greets, head bowed in respect. "I apologize. My lady did nothing wrong. It was all me."
Valerius doesn't seem moved by her words, face bored and uncaring. "Let me guess. You stole the cat."
"We were protecting it." I retort.
"If it isn't yours," He shrugs. "It's stolen goods."
Three bangs at the door interrupt our conversation. The weak hinges threaten to separate from the wooden frame.
"We know you're in there, brats!"
Valerius laughs, cruel and snarky—if the devil's halls were to be filled by a chime, it'd be Valerius' laughter playing. "Looks like the consequences of your actions have caught up to you, darling."
I bite my lip. We're on the second floor of a crowded saloon. The door to the room is barely holding on and the windows are too small to crawl out of and, even then, there's no way to gurantee a safe landing.
The cat meows in distress. Aurelia's sobs haunt my left ear. Damn it!
We don't have any options left.
"Help us." I plead.
Valerius' grin grows wide. For a moment, it looks like he's considering it.
But then, he follows with, "Why should I?"
"I am your wife."
"That only matters in court." He snarkily remarks. "What the hell does it matter here?"
"I–" I swallow. "I'll do anything you want."
He hums. "Empty promises. Worthless to me."
Valerius pulls a dagger from his pocket. He tosses the metal object. My palm slices open as I catch it unceremoniously.
Its blade is sharp, drawing blood wherever it touches.
"Do it yourself." He yawns.
I clench my fingers around the dagger. It's heavy too. Too heavy for me to wield it effectively. As much as I hate it, my body puts me at a physical disadvantage.
There's no way I can win the fight.
The banging continues, growing more violent and desperate as the seconds tick. Aurelia's body is shaking, I feel her fear as she tugs at the back of my dress.
Do something. She's begging silently.
Do something as you've always done.
Do something insane.
My hand raises, the dagger glinting under the lamplight as I stab the metal into my shoulder.
"Anything. You. Want." I gasp out. The pain is unbearable, tears escape my eyes as warm crimson trickles down my arm.
Yet another risk I've taken. Utterly stupid, utterly miscalculated.
Logic never seems to work with Valerius. I've done well enough speaking his language of chaos and depravity. This case shouldn't be different—hopefully.
"Remember. You did this to yourself." He answers, silver eyes burning with promise.
The door collapses. I pull Aurelia and the cat away, moments from being crushed.
A jab later, my husband proves why he's dubbed a warlord by neighboring nations. He's crass, mocking almost as he turns large men into decorations on the floor.
There's no technique to his movements. It's all brute strength. I consider the possibility that he might be the cloaked figure, but they couldn't be more different in terms of style and eloquence.
He's vicious.
Every breath of his reeks of arrogance—as if to tell the thugs, 'I didn't even have to try.'
My hand sweats profusely, some of it sticks to Aurelia's face, over her eyes. It moved there subconsciously. Protecting the girl seems to have become natural instinct.
The cat in her hand stares forward, unbothered. Those purple eyes irk me. There's something uncanny about the way they observe like a human's.
"Was that all?" Valerius asks, stretching his arms into the sky. There's not a single scratch on him.
I sigh.
"Are you alright?" I turn to the blonde.
She doesn't utter a word. She can't.
Aurelia's paralyzed in shock. Hilariously enough, the cat is in a better state than the disheveled girl.
At least we came out of it untouched. Well, except for the stab wound on my shoulder.
My feet wobble beneath the weight of my body. Blotches of darkness invade my vision. I feel weightless and heavy at the same time. There's nothing but the pain in my torso and the spinning of the world around me.
The blood loss is starting to catch up.
I hear two voices conversing in the background. One is low, rough, another is high and addled with concern.
There's no way to tell one figure from another, whose hand is caressing my face and whose legs are currently in front of me. A patch of fur rubs against my paling hand.
I see the cat purr in concern—its eyes so stark and purple, it pierces through the fog surrounding my brain. There's a dull sensation tickling my nerves, it becomes sharper and sharper, until,
"Hello."
A voice echoes throughout the hollowness of my head. It comes from nowhere. It comes from everywhere.
Strangely enough, I have an aching suspicion that it comes from the cat.
Yeah. I'm starting to lose my mind. This is an awful outcome.
They better bring me to a doctor and quick.