The Point of A Dagger

Fifteen

Pain smashes into every part of my body as I come to. I feel like I've been run over by a carriage. Aside from feeling my pulse throbbing in every part of my body, clear, stinging pain dances in between my legs and down my arm.

I remember everything.

And I am going to kill Helmer, Duke of Blithe.

I find myself in a bed that is dressed with silk, sage sheets. I wince, sitting up. I'm still in my ball gown, but my chest, arm, and upper thighs are wrapped in bandages. Behind the still, withe fabric, the sky outside reveals it is still nighttime, possibly very early morning. A figure sits on the couch on the opposite side of the room, writing something.

Griffin. Of course.

My eyes burn as I remember everything. Everything.

At my movement, Griffin looks up, standing, and walking toward me with a glass.

"Here," he says, extending it to me. With an effort, I move, sliding to the edge of the bed, my pain drowned out by my adrenaline.

"Get away from me," I hiss, standing, pushing myself against the wall for support. Griffin freezes, setting the glass of water on the table. He crosses his arms, leaning against the end bedpost.

"Alright. Why don't I take you up to the infirmary then? You can tell them what happened."

I glare at him. Anger and fear boiling inside of me, but mostly anger. Anger at him, at Helmer, at fate for putting me in this situation.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" I demand.

"What good would that bring me?"

"You'd be able to take over my kingdom, just like you and your sick father want."

"Ah," he says, smiling. "Not me, just my sick father. How many times, Cassie, must I tell you that I have no allegiance to him?"

"Until you can prove it," I say, trying to hold my head high.

"How do you feel?" he asks, shaking his head, taking a single step toward me.

"Fine."

"And the... wounds?" Blush creeps up my face.

"Did you-"

"No. I had my servants do it. I kept your identity hidden, don't worry." I wait a moment before replying.

"Thank you," I say, the words short and curt, but evidently full of my gratitude. We stand there for a moment, staring at each other. As I look into his eyes, I feel bits of anger leave my body, replaced by heat from the memories of last night. What we did... before. Those memories quickly turn sour, and my blood is back to boiling with anger.

"Who was it?" he asks after a moment. I notice his clenched fists. Pushing off the wall, I walk to where he stands and take the glass of water with a shaky hand.

"My uncle." A shaky breath escapes his lips and he closes his eyes. Tightly.

"He poisoned me, too. Tried once, succeeded once."

"Why?" he demands, his eyes still closed. I look at his face in a trance. I look at the man who no one seems to know, or cares to know. I look at the man with more layers than I can count, and can't seem to decide which one to show me. I wonder why--and how--we are standing here together, two people that would gladly kill the other at a given opportunity. But, Griffin had one last night, and didn't take it. I had one too, earlier, and did not take it either.

"I don't know, Griffin," I whisper. At the sound of his name, his eyes flash open and he stares at me a moment before stalking toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I demand, running after him.