A Witch's Game | ✓

11 | Money And Goons

Priscilla curled her hand around the golden spectrum of the gate, with the gaze of the royal guards looming over her. She was cemented to the ground, body repudiating to move and enter, but one tug at her hand and she knew she didn't have a choice.

"I don't feel nice about it." She whispered, as though praying Viola to hear it, and she did but left ignored.

"If only it mattered," Viola shrugged and strolled away, irking her with the insouciant demeanour. "But nonetheless, be your usual poised self."

The desire to slam Viola's head against the gate caused her to let out a heated breath, and she rubbed the side of her forehead and her foot traced along Viola's steps.

"What a recreant you are." She gritted her teeth, albeit her guise was ire. The palpitation of her heart which she attempted to hush spoke otherwise. And again her words were unheeded, similar to the stare of the prince peering at them from the window of his chamber. He grinned in triumph.

Plan successful.

The huge corridor led to various rooms and adjacent staircase, the rooms were for the labour of the commoners.

The palace had five floors, the first one was for a display of flawless facade, the second one was for the labour of the commoners and had a large hall for ballroom, a library and again rooms for sojourn. The third one was for the respected king, queen with their heir, the fourth one was a beautiful lone and vacant place meant for nothing and the fifth floor was forbidden, only the king, queen and prince were allowed there.

The rumours had it that whoever shall go or had visited the place never returned. If anyone does by luck, it would be their frigid and pale dead bodies. What surreal was that the dead bodies never had any self-defense marks as if they were killed without being touched physically, but then who knew, after all, it was a mere rumour and no one had ever witnessed that.

A hand excessively tightened around hers and discomfort morphed into her countenance. Priscilla yanked her hand out of the grip and looked up to find Viola's face twisting into something incomprehensible. She followed her eyes and found the reason, Andrew.

"What's his problem?" Viola muttered and Priscilla got back at her, shrugging, and smiled loosely with a malevolent glint in her eyes. "Ask him about it then."

"How can I- "

"Hello, ladies."

Ah!

Viola closed her eyes, then flinched as she was nudged and Priscilla patted her back. "Greet him, Viol."

You shouldn't have done that, priscy.

"Hello, Mr. Andrew." She nodded, forcing a smile. "And I don't mean to be insolent, but I find myself in discomfort around you so, I would appreciate if you keep your distance."

Andrew's grin flattered whilst Viola spoke within a breath, as if her tongue would break if she paused. It was a jab at his ego, but he was surprised with himself when he inclined his head in affinity, aware of his behaviour. "I'm sorry Ms. Wilson and it'll not happen again."

Viola watched Andrew depart as her heart laden and she mumbled. "That was the best revenge you could ever got."

"Anyway," Priscilla ignored her remark and clasped her hands. "The reason I came here for doesn't exist and so, I shall leave now."