The Reaper's Curse

Gleams of Steel Fracturing Across Euthymia

Elara leans against the doorframe, watching from a careful distance as the princess digs into the bread and the cheese. The girl's legs are crossed, her nightgown riding up her thighs. The curtains had been drawn open by a slit, allowing a few flickers of the autumn light to dance on her pale skin. She doesn't even seem to notice. 

 Sairah had come and gone, bringing with her chamomile tea and jars of medicines. 

Elara fingers the hilt of the dagger strapped to her belt, her other hand holding her own pouch of herbs and medicine loosely at her hip. 

The princess's eyes dart to her, and then quickly away. 

Elara hates the prickle that begins beneath her skin. She kicks at the wall with the back of her boot. "Do you still see me as a threat to you?" She meant for her voice to be mocking, but it comes out too soft. 

"Yes." The reply is short and sharp.

"Even after I healed your wound?" The question wasn't meant to be answered. But the princess does so anyway. 

"Were you expecting me to thank you?" Her eyes glint. "I'm just a means of entertainment to you. One that you wouldn't hesitate to dispose of if I anger or bring too much trouble to you."

Elara's fingernail catches against a gouge on her dagger. Her breath seems to falter. "Did Sairah tell you that?"

"No," the princess says too quickly. 

Elara chuckles, pushing away from the doorframe. She takes in, in amusement, the falter of the princess's hands, the darting of her gaze to the knife.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she says even as she pulls the dagger from her belt. 

"What are you doing?!" 

Elara slams the blade down onto the mattress of the bed, just barely missing the princess's bare thigh. It tears through the fabric and the cotton smoothly. She leans in, her lips half an inch away from the girl's. The fury that should have ripped through her when she was dealing with Cleo is now at the brim of bursting. 

"Where was this fear when you asked to meet Cleo? Did your naivety blind you to stupidity? Did you think everyone in this world loves you?"

The princess has frozen completely. Her fiery green eyes rest on Elara's white ones. "How did you find out about that? Did Sairah⎯⎯⎯⎯"

"No," Elara mocks, a smirk lifting her lips. All her pity for the girl is gone. She yanks out the dagger from the mattress and drops it into her lap. The princess flinches away. "Don't lose it. You'll need it to defend yourself."

And then she's gone. 

☾✧

Elara's hands nearly tear down the door when she bursts into Sairah's chambers. She dimly notices the pile of bloodied silk and fabric by the bath chamber doors. 

Sairah startles from her sewing. She drops everything onto her work table in a heartbeat and hurries to her feet. "My Lady." Her voice does not waver, does not tremble. 

Elara raises her hand to strike the woman. 

Sairah's eyes flutter shut, but she does not flinch away. 

Elara grabs her by the throat instead. "Open your eyes, woman." 

Sairah obeys quietly. She has always done that. Elara never knows whether or not she should snarl at her. She steadies her raspy breathing.

"Why did you not consult me when the princess asked to speak with the guests here? Why did you not tell me Reina had come into contact with her? Did you really not expect the conniving little girl to find out about her bloodline?"