The Best For Criminals

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Viola's POV

                  We're transported to the outside of an inn, the road muddy and caking on the rim of my ballgown. King Atticus and Claire are wide eyed as my dad lands in front of me and Callence, dad falling to his knees with a grunt. His empty eye socket has begun to bleed again; as I try to lift his body back up, I slip instead and land ass first into the mud alongside him.

         I'd laugh if I wasn't so miserable.

Claire and Atticus rush forward, helping my father up and toward the inn— probably to a healer. I click my tongue and reach into the pocket of my ballgown, grasping at my fathers forgotten eyeball.

"Make sure this gets put back in... safely." I say, unsure how else to put it as Atticus nods at me solemnly and with a wince, grabs the slimy thing.
Claire makes a move to help me up but I just shake my head and usher them away with a fake smile.

The numb sensation I feel is worse than any embarrassment or heartbreak I've ever endured. The roaring in my ears has dulled, but so many unanswered questions still tug about in my mind.

Callence whistles next to me, looking down at me.

"I'm sure you have a bone to pick with me but—" he starts up, but I interrupt him.

"Why didn't Kilian come with us?" I ask quietly. "He didn't betray us... he wasn't the enemy. He's never been the enemy." I bite out bitterly as Callence flinches.

"There was that time a couple decades ago where he wanted to kill you—" he grins humorlessly.

"Callence." I say sourly. He casts his eyes downward and drops his smile. He looks in deep thought for a moment, jaw clenched, but then he erases the look off of his face.

"Newly inherited kings can't leave the castle until they deal with the kingdom. He unjustly killed their king, so now he has to be seen by the council— the kingdoms people— anybody that wants to fight for the position." He says deeply, a look of concentration on his face. In the dark of the night he doesn't look so boyish, the goofy smirk is gone and instead an intense gleam in his eyes.

"What are they going to do to him? Why did you take me? I could've fought with him!" I say, heart thundering in my chest. I start to stand, and Callence grabs my arm gently guiding me.

"Who do you think summoned me, Viola?" He says in nothing but a grim whisper.
"He has to face them on his own. After he does so and proves that he's rightfully their king will he be able to leave. If he survives, that is." He says, rubbing at his jawline.

"How long will this take?" I whisper, my voice too weak to speak up after the events of tonight.

"It usually doesn't take too long; it took about three or four hours for me." He tells me, eyeing me in careful consideration as my shoulders slump in relief. He almost looks hurt, but his gentleness doesn't ease up. He continues answering the questions I fire at him without annoyance. I'm fact, it looks as if he's even enjoying having my attention on him for longer than usual. I brush past what he's said, my mind too occupied with Kilian's well-being.

I'd be seeing him soon. If he could battle those brutes and face judgement strongly... I'd see his him.
     Probably bloody and bruised, but Kilian nonetheless.

          I let out a sigh and wipe my hands on my dress, anxiety eating at me.

         "Come, they have hot food and working running water here." He ushers me forward with his hand around my waist, his dimpled smirk returning.
           I find myself smiling back at him, at the kindness radiating off of him. It was strange that Kilian had warned me away from someone as kind and selfless as Callence— but judging by his handsome features, maybe it had just been jealousy.
His tall stature and muscles running along his body, brown curls with golden streaks and powerful blue eyes— it was a wonder he hadn't been snatched up yet. And that heated look he was casting my way as I gave him the smile had my insides melting. Jealousy was a strong possibility.

             We make our way toward the inn and I catch a glimpse of the wooden sign hanging above the door, battered and faded.
      I have to squint to read it, the night sky not helping me with any starlight and it's not like the underworld had street posts.

            "Burning Star Inn. How...original." I mutter as Callence watches me with heavy lidded eyes.

"Only the best for us criminals." He replies back, humor tickling me.

           
             After we check in with the lady at the wooden desk, I'm sent away with a key to my room. I'm told my dad won't be conscious until at least tomorrow afternoon with all the damage that he'd taken in that dungeon, so with a grim glance at Claire, I bid them goodnight.

Callence doesn't take his eyes off of me as I walk to the stairwell, unspoken things in his gaze.

I can't imagine how tonight will go, Kilian fighting for his life and my father unconscious and alone in the health ward... it was gonna be a long time until the sun would rise that's for sure.

The room key I'd been given jingles in my hand as I go up the creaky wooden steps, chipped paint falling off with every step. How old was this place?
Still, it was charming and rustic, and like Callence said, it does have running water.

I cringe at the mud coating my ankles and dress, noting how good a shower would make me feel.
Still anxious, but maybe a clean body and some hot soup would make this night more bearable.

Finally, after what felt like ages of searching for room four ninety-nine, I stumble across those numbers on a faded wooden door. The golden knob gleams up at me as I unlock the room and step in, silence greeting me and the smell of jasmine tea.
I lock the door as I spy a tray of soup and croissants on a table by the entrance, a vase with with tulips added to the side for garnishment. I furrow my eyebrows as I also spy a cup of tea and a small bowl of chopped fruits complimenting the meal.

"Odd combo... I accept." I say in exhaustion as I step into the warm room. The color of the thick velvet curtains are emerald green and the bed a large four post king sized bed was a soft velvet white and sand color combination— the room rings familiar to me, but I brush that feeling to the side as I make strides to the food— no amount of upset could take away my appetite.

As I start to tear into the croissants I start to eye a door adjacent to the bed, noting that it was probably the bathroom.

After a shower and a nice lotioning, I guess I'd plop into bed for the night and wait.

Yes, waiting. That seemed like a good plan to me; and that's exactly what I did.






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