Once upon a time, the realms of Chance and Men lived in peace and harmony. The balance of the worlds was perfect. Unfortunately, the thirst for power and magic is an inevitable poison, as insatiable as the noble families of chance. Their thirst led...
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Chapter 15
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The dream from last night refuses to leave my mind. The King of Spades has been visiting my dreams for so long, for a reason unknown to me. It's absurd. It's the only thing I think about as we continue our journey. I am always frustrated upon waking, not knowing more, having more questions than answers. Why me? Why would one of the princes have taken my sister? He spoke of what I would be capable of, and I remember his hand slowly tracing my face, my jaw, and my hatred for him grows a little more. I hate waking up frustrated and frightened. I hate his half-answers and senseless riddles. And above all, I hate the warmth I feel in the pit of my stomach when I think of his touch.
The only thing I am certain of is that, no matter if he gave me the necessary clues to overcome the first trial and to know his identity, no matter if he still seems present in my subconscious, that man does not mean well. He has no heart. I remember my hand on his chest, the coldness of his skin, even through the fabric. He didn't expect me to guess. His surprise confirmed it for me.
Once again, I stumble over a root in my path, and Killian catches me. Again. "It's like déjà vu," I joke, looking at him. His face lights up, and he lets out a quiet laugh. His hand gently releases mine, but he stays close to me. "What are you thinking?" he asks me, and for a moment, I contemplate the possibility of telling him everything about my nocturnal encounters. After all, Killian is... I don't really know what he is, to be honest. I am about to reveal myself when I remember the rules of the game.
There will be only one winner.
And Killian. He harbors hatred for the king, like the rest of the players. I must be cautious.
"Nothing. About my sister," I murmur, looking away, ashamed of having to lie. I hate lying, but I have no choice. He doesn't say anything and merely nods. I can't help but ask him, as he moves a thorn the size of my finger out of our way, "What will you do if you win?" My question seems to catch him off guard as he freezes for a moment. The others are already ahead, and since we are bringing up the rear, no one notices that we have slowed down. He clears his throat and steps around me to resume his pace. "I'm sorry, my question was intrusive."
He smiles. "I would like to get out of here." His answer is simple, like a breath of fresh air that makes my heart beat a little faster. "I think that's what everyone desires, isn't it?" He turns to me, and I nod.
"You will be rewarded with your deepest desire," the words from the invitation come back to me. And we continue our march.
The forest is dark, with black branches and thorns slowing our progress, requiring extreme caution, as numerous holes dot the ground. The day of walking is grueling, and I thank my friend ten times over for yesterday's balm, each time remembering the touch of his hand on my bare skin and the lingering tingling sensation it left behind.
