The Exiled Gem

Sweet Poison

Alexandra wanted to murder him. She wanted to push his face down on the ground and she wanted to kick him like she had kicked Blaise Quill. But she satisfied herself with glaring at Kane. Mainly because she knew that acting too heroic, or being too audacious, could be harmful. Even terminal; for Kane was not Blaise. He hadn't been expelled for his third year crime because Master George had known what Alexandra knew now - known, that Kane was exemplary and valuable. Known that it was utmost bad luck to be on his wrong side. 

The wrong side that she was on, now. 

Kane's blue eyes were steely - his face was stern. If he had smiled, everything would have been back to normal: a smile always transformed his face. But he didn't look like he remotely knew how to smile, at the moment. And when her anger had subsided, Alexandra was filled with numbness. In the wildest of dreams, she would not have imagined that Kane would do that. That Kane could do that.

But he seemed like it a normal thing he had done. 'Now that our mouths are sewn shut,' he began and appeared so calm that she wanted to thrust her hands forward and throttle him on spot. But something held her back - perhaps the "something" - was the last remnants of lingering trust in, and respect for, him. 'How about you tell me, Mabel, what you are here for and exactly how much you know.' He instructed.

Everything else evaporated from her mind. Only the Council's lessons remained: Stay calm. Don't open your mouth. You must either escape, or die: but you must not disclose a single word.  Play for time. Talk - engage - reveal the weaknesses of the captor. Overpower them - either physically, or mentally.

Those were all the best tips she could ask for - and yet, they wouldn't work against Kane. Because he knew what she knew - he had studied what she had - and more than anything else, they were not strangers. She had to "reveal" his weakness. He already knew hers. And perhaps, Alexandra's weakness was her temper.

She knew speaking was futile, she knew keeping quiet was futile. But between the two, she chose silence - and didn't reply.

'Should I repeat?' He asked. Outside, it was already nighttime. The sun had long set and the house was dark, except for a single, flickering lamp in the distance. If only that lamp went off - maybe, she could escape. Or maybe not: because Kane definitely knew his house better. But there was chance. A very slight, small chance.

Alexandra's eyes flitted to the lamp. It was closer to two than one meter away from her. She had to extinguish it - and then run. Run without destination, with stopping, without thought. 

But the first part was the point - how could she put it out?

Since she was thinking so hard, Alexandra obviously gave no reply to Kane - who didn't seem in any hurry. 'Alright. I'll repeat,' he said, 'tell me, Mabel, what you know and why you are here. Don't think I don't have a very good idea why. I do - I just want to hear it from you. Because, I have an offer to make. An offer that I've been wanting to make, since long.'

She barely registered his words. Alexandra was still gazing at the lamp. She had to put it out - she had to put it out - she had to put it out. But her lack of reply made Kane give up his policy of non-violence. She felt the cold blade press upon her neck. The cold blade of her own dagger - and it drove all other thoughts out of her mind.

'I can force you.' He hissed - having no idea what was cooking in her brain.

'You cannot.' Alexandra replied, turning to look at him. 'You are an absolute villain. They never have nice endings - you won't have one either! And you can't force me - because I refuse to hear you out!' She added, eyes burning in rage.

The blade turned making a thin cut. Blood trickled down to her cloak as she registered the hot pain and winced. But it didn't hurt nearly as much as the betrayal did. They had sat together, eaten, talked, laughed, even given commentaries ... just six months ago as well. Given time, she and Kane could go on trials together. And she had always looked up to him, like a role model. And he had turned out to be the perfect role model. Just perfect.