Chapter 14: Need His Madness
The blade in Esme’s chest sunk deeper and deeper. She swayed in the saddle but gripped the reins tightly to prevent herself from falling. The vibrant colours of the autumn forest around her had faded into dull gray. She looked around but Eveyr was nowhere to be seen.
Where the hell is he?
"Duchess?" Prince Alistair said, his voice filled with worry. "Are you unwell? You have gone pale."
"I..." Esme swallowed hard. "I am fine, Your Highness. The sun is ... just too bright."
Without waiting for his response, she jerked the reins and turned the mare. She had to find Eveyr. She rode back towards the hunting pavilions immediately. Her eyes frantically scanning the crowd of laughing nobles.
Where are you, Eveyr?
Every second without his attention drained her life more. At last, she spotted him near the edge of the camp.
Eveyr stood beside the Vanguard’s armory tent, still deep in conversation with Lady Vespera. Esme watched as Vespera made a joke, and Eveyr actually laughed. He looked relaxed, completely unbothered by her absence and it was tearing her apart from the inside out.
Another wave of pain hit her.
The fuck is wrong with him?? Why isn’t he looking for me???
Esme climbed down from her horse, her legs trembling so badly that she almost collapsed. She handed the reins to a passing stable boy and walked towards the armory tent.
Just as Esme reached the entrance, Lady Vespera stepped out and almost collided with her. She paused, her eyes assessing Esme’s trembling body and unnaturally pale face. Instead of bowing, she crossed her arms and blocked her way.
"He isn’t a toy for your political games, Duchess," Vespera said.
Esme gritted her teeth in annoyance.
"Move. I need to speak with my husband."
Vespera let out a humourless laugh.
"But weren’t you enjoying with Prince Alistair just now?" she said, mockingly. "It’s true Duke is a monster when he is provoked. But if you push him away enough times, he won’t come back. He will shut the door and lock you out. Understood? He is finally at peace now. Don’t go in there and ruin his mood."
"Get out of my way," Esme shouted.
Vespera shook her head in disbelief and stepped aside. Esme, ignoring her, rushed inside the tent.
Eveyr stood alone at a long wooden table, his back facing her as he rubbed an oiled cloth on his sword. He didn’t even turn around when she entered. He knew it was her. He knew her footsteps, her scent. But still he didn’t turn.
Esme’s heart raced in a frantic rhythm.
"So, you are actually going," Esme said, her voice filled with venom but it was slightly breathless. "I didn’t think you would run away from the capital so easily. Do you really want to leave your newly wedded bride alone?"
Eveyr neither pause nor turned.
"I am a soldier, Esme," he replied calmly. "I cannot go against the Emperor’s order. And honestly, I thought you would be pleased. You were the one who told me to act like a normal man, didn’t you?"
"I told you not to cause a massacre," Esme shot back, stepping closer. "I didn’t tell you to abandon your estate and leave me alone in the capital. Julian will laugh at you for falling into his trap."
Eveyr finally stopped wiping his blade. He set the cloth down and turned to her. Esme was ready for him to snap but this time also he didn’t do anything. His eyes held no wild obsession and he surprisingly looked calm.
"Julian’s laughter means nothing to me," Eveyr said softly, his gaze dropping to her trembling hands before moving to her eyes again. "But your relief does."
"My relief?"
"Absolutely," he answered. "Shouldn’t you be happy I’m leaving? Why do you suddenly care if I leave you alone? As far as I know you looked very happy without me just a few minutes ago."
He crossed his arms and leaned back against the weapons table.
"Prince Alistair is a charming man. Handsome, as well. And he looked really interested in you."
Esme froze, her condition worsening with each passing second.
"Eveyr, stop..."
"If you wish to entertain foreign princes while I am gone, Esme, you have my permission," Eveyr said. "I will be in the south and you won’t have to worry about my madness. You will have the entire estate to yourself. And you can finally stop pretending to tolerate me."
He turned his back to her again, picking up the oiled cloth and resuming to clean his sword.
[CRITICAL WARNING: TARGET EMOTIONALLY WITHDRAWING]
The absolute apathy in his voice hit her harder than the pain she was feeling. Esme’s knees buckled. She staggered backward, her shoulder slamming into an iron weapons rack. The halberds and spears in it rattled, echoing in the suffocating silence.
She opened her mouth to insult him again, but her voice had given out. Suddenly, she began to cough. She put her hand over her mouth and blood spilled past her lips, staining her palm and dripping onto her clothes.
The system was no longer playing a game. It was executing her for failing to complete the mission.
At the sound of the weapons rattling, Eveyr’s detached mask finally slipped. He turned towards her with annoyance, but his eyes immediately locked onto the blood staining her hand.
His indifference shattered in an instant. A wave of panic flashed across his face. He took a hesitant step forward. He still thought she was manipulating him, and hoped it was one of her tricks.
"What kind of game are you playing now, Esme?" Eveyr asked, his voice shaking slightly with fear.
Esme looked at him. His tall figure quickly blurred as darkness swallowed her vision. Her knees gave out.
"I’m dying....you idiot," she whispered, a tear slid down her bloodstained cheek.
Before Eveyr could even grasp her words properly, her eyes drifted shut. She collapsed, falling completely lifeless onto the floor.
