Playing the Game

Chapter 43: Just a Scratch

Decimus' guards stop us in the hallway.

"This is as far as they go." One of them gestured towards Arrian and Brutus. "They can stay here with us. Only Arlo can accompany you further."

Both Arrian and Brutus were on edge, not liking the fact that they would be so far away from their charge. But that was the deal; just Arlo, Kilgorian, Decimus and me. The first set of double doors was closed on the other's faces. Arlo let me lead the way to my dinner date.

Decimus' room was down a hall, up a long, spiraling staircase, and around a balcony landing. I remembered it vividly from our childhood, playing make believe in his room to utilize the seclusion and towering atmosphere. I was glad to see that he stayed in his seclusion, far away from his father's room; it was probably the safest place he could be.

When we reached the top landing, I quietly knocked on the door.

I was strangely nervous. We had never been on a proper date before; I had never been on one with anyone. This was truly a first for me. My palms were sweaty and I was dancing on the balls of my feet. Decimus may not have been my first choice for this particular milestone, but I was planning on enjoying myself anyways. After what happened the night before, I could use some fun. I knew he would be a perfect gentleman and everything would remain friendly. I was hoping that the night would simply remind me why Decimus was good company; I was hoping to bring out the things I use to love about my best friend. We would talk, eat, laugh, and say goodnight.

So why am I so nervous? What is this pit forming in my stomach?

Kilgorian swings the door open and steps aside for me to enter, bowing his head respectfully. I meandered into the room, taking it all in like it was only yesterday that we were here together.

My trip down memory lane was quickly interrupted when Arlo grunted low in pain. He pulled out his dagger and pointed it at Kilgorian to attack. Kilgorian raised his hands defensively, not looking for a fight.

"Arlo! What are you doing?!"

"The bastard sliced my arm."

"It was an accident. It was just my nail. I didn't mean anything by it."

Sure enough, Kilgorian's index finger had a drop of Arlo's blood on it. The cut on Arlo's arm was deep, but nothing to get worked up over.

I placed my hand on Arlo's raised arm, forcing him to drop the dagger. "Relax, Arlo. Not everyone is out to kill us. He didn't draw his blade." I look down at the wound, "It's just a scratch."

Arlo frowned and muttered under his breath, but he complied. Kilgorian moved farther into the room once Arlo's dagger returned to its sheath, taking his place behind one of the table chairs by the window. Arlo moved carefully to stand behind the other, never taking his eyes off of Kilgorian.

Wooden tables and chairs, a lounge sofa, a bookshelf, desk, wardrobe and full length mirror line the walls of the room. There is a single marble bust of himself as a child, which was a gift on his coronation day as Romallia's Prince. One would expect a grand portrait of the royal family to hang over his stone fireplace, but instead there was a portrait of Hannibal riding into battle. Two sets of glass double doors lead out to opposing balconies so Decimus could view all sides of Romallia below. A grand chandelier made of animal horns and antlers hangs from above as various torches and lanterns grace the walls and furniture.

Decimus' canopy bed was the most ornate and prominent thing in the entire room. The cherry wood posts tower towards the ceiling, carved ornately to look like spiraling vines. Silk crimson drapes hang from the braces above, softly flowing down to the elegant rug below. His sheets are as white as snow, simple in comparison to the rest of the bed, but so inviting.