Thorns

Chapter Twenty-One

I didn't speak right away. Instead, I took my time slipping into the room, the train of my dress slipping over rhetorical blood-slicked floor. I kept each step quiet, careful not to draw attention to myself. The heavy, coppery scent hung in the air like fog. The smell didn't bother me though, rather it fascinated me. It was so interesting to me how easily a life could be drained, and how silent the world became in its wake.

"Now what do you plan on doing, hmm?" I asked, staring at Salem from where I stood. He was breathing heavy, still hunched over the body of his mother with the knife clutched tightly in his fist. She was nearly unrecognizable at that point, and based off of that fact alone I figured that it was her that had made Salem's life the most miserable.

At the sound of my voice, his eyes flashed up at me. His raspy gasps for air didn't lessen as he did so, nor did the sadistic gleam that shimmered within the depths of his ice-blue eyes, but he did seem like he had relaxed a little. Salem lowered the dagger to his side, and straightened himself out a bit as his malevolent stare burned into my gaze.

Salem watched me, his expression unreadable but his body language calm. There was no fear in him, no panic that I'd just caught him in the act. But why should there be? I wasn't there to stop him. I wasn't there to scream and cry and mourn for the royal family sprawled lifeless on the floor. 

I folded my arms across my chest, and quirked an eyebrow at him, "Well?" I prompted, taking a step towards him, "What's your plan, now, Salem? You've killed three important people, and left your finger prints all over everything. How sloppy."

"You don't look at all surprised. And I wasn't sloppy." He finally said, his voice as smooth and deliberate as the blade he held in his hand. The silver glinted in the dim moonlight peaking through the window, a cruel reminder of what had just unfolded.

"Should I be? We're two sides of the same coin, Salem. We parallel each other in countless ways. People like us are bound to shed blood eventually." I didn't mention that what had caught me off guard was how pleased with himself he looked. That I hadn't expected in the slightest. I'd expected him to be so incredibly guilt-ridden that he'd beg for me to take his life to atone for his crime.

Salem was proud of what he'd created. When I looked deep into his unwavering gaze, I realized he hadn't been sloppy in the slightest. This was his plan all along. He wanted the world to see his beautiful creation. He wanted the Kingdom to know exactly what he'd done.

"You think we're alike?" He narrowed his eyes at me, studying me as if to determine if I was mocking him or offering him something deeper.

"Oh, I know we are." I said as I closed the distance between him and I. I was unbothered by the bodies at his feet or the growing pool of blood threatening to stain my shoes, "You're selfishly motivated and see the world for what it truly is-a world of corruption and fools who think they're bloodline makes them untouchable."

His lips quirked upwards, a shadow of amusement darting across his face, "And what makes you think you're any different from that?"

I tilted my head, feigning the thought for a moment before answering, "Because unlike them I don't waste my time worrying about useless things. I think critically about everything I do and am don't fall victim to instant-gratification. I'm willing to play along until the time is right. Then, when the time is right, I know what I want and Im not afraid to take it. Just like you."

He didn't answer me right away, but he didn't dismiss me either. Instead, he finally sheathed his blade. The soft click of leather against metal broke the deafening silence.

"Careful," He said, stepping closer to me until only a breath of space separated us. His voice dropped lower, dangerous yet somehow inviting, "You shouldn't compare yourself to me. It might not end the way you hope."