Sharp Flowers

Part 6

I stare absently at the flat ceiling. My grumbling stomach is just a part of my punishment while waiting for Kisomen's decision. Will I get the boot? He clearly has a lot of secrets, and I keep pestering everyone about them. I wish I'd at least have gotten something to eat before being sent on my way out. I sit upright. Maybe, if I'm careful, I can snag something from the kitchen? Anything, a dinner roll would be enough. I peer out. The castle is still, like a sleeping bear, yet soft music drifts down the hall. I bite my lip—you idiot. Daring to step out with a thin blanket to warm my shoulders, I start for the kitchen. Low, warm, resonant strings rumble through the floors from Felicity's cello. Her soft lullabies set the air at ease. With any luck, have the castle inhabitants asleep. As quiet as I am, upon passing an open door, the gentle moonlight catches me beneath the warm breeze of the crisp night. Her cool breath smells like the swaying flowers and rustling grasses. Transfixed, a slow sigh escapes my heavy chest.

"Do you take delight under the moonlight?" someone off to my right asks. I whirl around, immediately going for my sword that isn't there. I'm defenseless without a spirit to call or a sword to draw. He was so quiet, yet tall stature with broad shoulders. He cocks his head to the side, face still masked in shadows by his hooded trench coat. That form, both obscured in darkness, but the voices are the same. This is the same monster, the one that slaughtered those men all by himself. Even if I had my sword, there could be no fight against this monster. I bite my tongue and my stomach twists. "What's with that glare? Have I done something to offend you?" he inquires. Just behind him, I can still see all those bodies. If not for him, I would have died. However, that doesn't make him my ally either.

"Are you a monster?" I demand to know.

"Monster?" he scoffs, and he starts to laugh, his voice deep and smooth. "I suppose that's close enough. Are you afraid of monsters?" He chuckles, and I feel my blood start to boil.

"No," I snap, lip twitching.

"Then I have a proposition for you," he begins. I eye him, waiting for him to strike, but he also looks unarmed. Don't let your guard down. "I want you to fight with the demon sword again," suggests the monster.

"Demon sword. That's Peter's sword? I-I can't fight with a sword," I blurt out, "I'm just a girl from a farm in the country," I tell him, and I hear him smile under the hood. Does he take me for a joke?

"You're well trained. Whom taught you to fight so well, Raven?" the stranger wonders. How is my name on his lips, yet I haven't even a face?

"Come out of the shadows," I demand from him. Without a second of hesitation, he follows my wishes and drops the hood back from his face so that the moonlight might touch his features. The man looks young with a sharp jaw, a narrow face, and blue eyes. His complexion is perfect, without scar or blemish. Focus on the question. This man could still be dangerous. Could he be a castle guard? No, he saw me fight earlier. So perhaps a warrior?

"My brother taught me," I state, and his eyes light up. Leaning against the wall with a cool smirk, he rubs his chin.

"So, you're Lady Wrenwood, Peter's sister," the man notes. I feel myself go pale and temporarily nauseous.

"No, you're mistaken." I deny it. "I'm just a girl from a farm, far from here," I continue.

"No, you are Peter's sister. You and he have the same scent as you're related," the stranger points out. "I thought maybe it was a coincidence, but this confirms it. Peter is a fine swordsman, and your styles are just similar enough. I thought maybe you could have had the same teacher. But your brother, Peter, was your teacher. That also explains why you were able to bear the demon sword without any side effects," he reasons. I stare, jaw about to fall off my face. He gathered all of this just now? The stranger chuckles like this is all very amusing. Perhaps he's mad? A monster in disguise? And what does he mean by scent?

"It's only fair that if you know who I am that I get to know who you are," I declare. "Who are you?" I demand to know, and he straightens up his posture.

"I am Sebastian Kisomen, sole heir of the Kisomen family, the current king of Oak Sienna," the monster declares.

"Eh?" my voice trails off, and the blood drains from my face. This man, this monster, is the supposed king, is he? He's so young! Didn't they say he fought in the knight wars? I take a step back, but in the blink, he's right behind me. A gentle hand lands on my cheek.

"What about my deal? Will you fight with the demon sword and become one of my knights?" Sebastian asks again. How could he move so fast? Idiot, because he's a monster. No, he's a demon. Without asking, he pulls the pin from my hair and it all comes crashing down over my shoulders. "You'd be a beautiful knight," and my face burns. I whirl around to face him.

"D-don't-," is all I can stutter, "I am not that skilled a warrior-" I murmur, bowing.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," Sebastian begins.

"There are stronger than me. Why not ask another?" I propose.

"The demon sword is not one tolerable nor understood by many," Sebastian answers. "Among my most trusted squad, only Peter was able to bear the sword, and he suffers burned hands. Henry cannot bear the weight. Felicity suffers severe vomiting. Elfie will pass out and vomit as well. Even Volker suffers burns, and that's with armored gloves, too," Sebastian explains with a soft smile upon his face, "You are the first one with the aptitude for wielding that sword," he praises, "So please, lift your head, you need not belittle yourself."

"People will realize who I am," I point out.

"Not necessarily," he promises.

"What about Peter, though? You gave him the sword. I can't take that away from him," I protest.

"Peter is my most trusted guard. He will understand without question. It is his honor to follow orders," Sebastian tells me. Hmm. I still don't trust him. He's a King and a demon. He's dangerous. And this sword, what's so special about it? I don't get it. "You don't fully trust me still, but you're curious about that sword," he guesses. I wince in embarrassment. It's like he can read my mind.

"But if you're so strong, why don't you fight?" I snap without meaning to, "Are you a coward?" and his expression goes blank. My mother's words, Elfie's words, their warning comes back. "Is it because you're so strong that you won't fight," I realize.

"Sending me in person to the field would be a disaster," Sebastian begins. "The strength of many in one man has its costs. I'd be revered as a monster. Just as you assumed, I was when you first saw me," he guesses, and the guilt stings.

"But you're not really a demon, are you," I blurt out, and he disappears once more right before my eye. I feel a cold breeze sigh around my neck.

"I am what I am," Sebastian whispers, and I shudder. Sebastian's hand lands on my shoulder again, but his nails are like claws. His face too close, eyes morphing red, burn in the chilling darkness. So, these are the eyes of a demon, are they? "And you are what you are, a swordswoman. I need you to fight," Sebastian murmurs close to my ear. My heart thuds hard and heavy in my chest. Could those be fangs? "I am a monster, a demon, a killer. Call me what you will. I've been this way since I was twenty-four," Sebastian informs me.

"Your trusted circle are aware?" I recall.

"All of them. But the castle guards, my people do not know," Sebastian informs me. Since twenty-four, huh? You would have been a young soldier. What happened to you? I bite my tongue. I've already asked too many questions, yet my lips tremble. A cursed sword and a demon king, huh?

"You still have questions?" Sebastian guesses with a knowing smile. My eyes are glued to those fangs, though. Does a demon eat people? Why does he have such long fangs? He inches closer, already close enough.

"Why? Why's the sword called the demon sword?" I murmur. Sebastian pulls back, but I still feel him standing close behind me.

"Imagine a living sword. Thinking, moving, even talking on its own. Yet anyone that tries to wield it suffers and feels pain," Sebastian describes. The air stirs with his words, but once it stills, there's the sword at my side. "Imagine wielding that sword," Sebastian suggests, "Could you handle such power?" Sebastian wonders. When I turn to answer him, he's gone. All that's there is the demon sword.