On Thin Ice (Prequel to Guild)

Chapter Fifty-Four: Wifekiller

                   Yuina found him in the Arena, having sought him out when he was weak, bleeding, and alone. She found him on his knees. Just where she liked him.

But Daiki would not bow. Not for her. Never again for her.

Clutching his innards and gritting his teeth, Daiki looked up at Yuina and forced himself to see what a horrid creature she'd become.

Or had this cold, hateful thing existed within her all along?

A fit of coughing seized him. Thick, hot blood burst from his lips and Yuina watched, her brown eyes strangely silvered. Not with tears. With disinterest. Nothing fazed her anymore. Not the shallow ocean of slick blood coating the floor and staining her feet, the translucent sheen of her skin, the way her hair seemed to move on its own, floating, swaying as if water, not air, surrounded her. She didn't care that she was beautiful. And horrible.

And dead.

Silver lines bisected her throat. Not much could bother her anymore.

Except for him: Daiki Kimsura, and his insistence on defying her.

Blood trickled down his chin and onto his neck, but he lifted it anyway. He watched her. Clothed in blood, he was disgusting. But she disgusted him.

She wore a gown like a burial shroud, torn and thin and immaterial. Gauzy as a spider's web, a snake's shed skin. Her sleeves lapped blood from the floor but she did not lift a dew-studded arm to him. She did not extend a hand, or offer to help him rise.

Take it.

Yuina turned her back on him.

Yuina let him go.

He'd never dream of her again, and Daiki wouldn't miss her.

...

                 Days bled into nights like watered ink. She didn't know how many days had passed. Only that colour had faded from the world except for in this room.

The colours here were dull and faded, but traces of light, of warmth remained. If she left, those traces of the past would vanish. Those traces of their families would be lost.

If this fortress was her prison, this nursery was her sanctuary.

... And her home.

Even if they didn't confiscate her father's cottage, Yuki knew she could never go back, no matter how many treasures she'd stashed there. No bars guarded the doors, but Yuki couldn't face the gardens. She couldn't bear the sight of the blossoms and the waving trees that had been her father's livelihood- had ended her father's life- and not wonder if they'd string her up in silks and beads one day.

What would become of Ryuu if they did?

Ryuu refused to eat unless she fed him, to sleep unless she tucked him in, to speak unless she was the one to address him. They'd declared her nursemaid that evening. They'd sent a note she'd had to ask Ryuu to read because Ryuu refused all visitors.

All visitors... except for her.

Except for her.

Shaking again. Fear in her heart and tears in her eyes. Yuki bit down on her lip until they threatened to overflow. Not a sound. Or else the little boy would hear. He'd ask why and she'd have to tell him... she'd have to tell him...

I can't do this.

She'd have to...

Fingers found dry cheeks, dry eyes. Found only cool mattress beside her. It turned her cold.