Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Twenty-three

Callidus's eyes blazed with a darkened intensity as he stared at Cressida from across the courtyard, his presence commanding and charged with a dangerous energy.

"Callidus!" Cressida gasped. Despite Arden's grip on her arm, his moans of pain seemed distant and muffled.

As Callidus moved towards her, his eyes remained locked on Cressida. The sensation of pressure built in her ears, creating an uncomfortable ache akin to being deep underwater. Her head pounded, and her ears popped.

"Stop! You're hurting him!" Cressida's voice trembled with urgency as she glanced at Arden's anguished expression. "Callidus, please, stop!"

But Callidus remained unmoved, his grip on the air unyielding. The guards around her continued to kneel, their expressions etched with both terror and confusion. The scarred guard struggled but failed to rise from her position, her body quivering from the effort.

As Callidus came within a few paces from them, his eyes darted to Arden's shaking grip on her arm. In an instant, Arden's fingers were forcefully pried from her skin, causing them to bend back in an unnatural and painful manner. The sickening sound of Arden's anguished cry pierced the air, causing Cressida to gasp in horror. "Callidus!" she choked. "Lady's mantle, stop...!"

Arden crumpled to the cobblestone, his body convulsing with pain as he clutched his injured arm. The sight pierced Cressida's heart, and she instinctively took a step forward, but she felt a hot summer breeze wrap around her, insistently directing her attention towards the prince.

Cressida's eyes widened as she met Callidus's gaze, his intense stare softening as he examined her.

"Cressida, are you alright?" His words carried a tender undertone, momentarily eclipsing the display of power and suffering. "Are you hurt?"

The dichotomy between the violence she had just witnessed and the gentleness in Callidus's voice sent a terrifying shudder rushing down her spine. Dread gnawed at her insides as she realized the extent of the danger she was in. Her initial fear of Leska and the guards paled in comparison to the chilling realization that the person she relied on the most was now a source of immense fear and pain.

"...Callidus..." she whimpered.

Callidus took a step closer, his expression softening further. The air crackled with tension as he reached out a hand, intending to offer comfort, but she instinctively flinched away from his touch. He seemed to misinterpret her fear, as his gaze narrowed, briefly darting to Arden and then to the other guards.

"What would you like me to do to them?" he asked quietly.

Callidus's question hung in the air, echoing with an eerie mix of concern and malice. Cressida's breath hitched, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you to do anything to them. Please, just, let them leave."

Callidus's brows furrowed, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. He seemed taken aback by Cressida's response, as if her plea for mercy conflicted with his current mindset. A tense silence engulfed the courtyard, broken only by the agonized moans of Arden and the heavy breathing of the kneeling guards.

After a moment of contemplation, Callidus nodded curtly. Instantly, the oppressive pressure dissipated, and the guards gasped for breath, their bodies relieved from the invisible force. Callidus's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

"You are dismissed. Leave us."

The guards hastened to retreat, stumbling over their own feet in their desperation to put distance between themselves and the crown prince. Leska, tears streaming down her face, carefully made her way to Arden, helping him stand while murmuring mumbled apologies. The scarred guard, still trembling, cast a brief glance at Cressida before assisting Leska.