Cloak and Scalpel

ABERLEEN ARC: Torn Asunder

I was normally a calm, and rational person.

I needed to be. When faced with life and death situations in the hospital, when a patient was crashing on the operating table, when lives were dependent on me, I was normally a placid and collected person. But the moment Annalee's lips found Aamon's, all my rationality seemed to fly out the window replaced with something white hot and consuming.

I saw red.

My fingers tightened on the screen partition. Violence was not something I ever condoned or took pleasure in, but at that moment, all I cared about was smashing Annalee's head on the damn table. Before I could even think of acting on those thoughts, Aamon shoved Annalee away from him.

She gasped as she staggered back, one hand on the table for support. Aamon ran the back of his hand against his mouth, wiping away her kiss, as he glared at her with pure venom in his arctic blue eyes.

"This arrangement is over," Aamon murmured. His voice was calm. Deceptively calm. And I knew he was close to breaking that carefully controlled wall he had around himself. "I'll seek a different ship to charter. Leave."

"Don't say you didn't enjoy that," Annalee breathed as she took a step towards Aamon. "You used to kiss me with passion Aamon, with fire. What changed? When did you become so...bland? You're so blinded by the gilded bars, you don't even know you're in the cage."

She tried to reach for him, but he slapped her hand away. She blinked, taken aback.

But it was that small action that finally snapped me out of my stupor.

I shoved the screen partition aside and strode towards them.

------------------------

The duke of Castle Aberleen was not one to be surprised.

Indeed, he preferred to do most of the surprising, often on the battlefield where unsuspecting enemies often found themselves prey to his deadly mana shards. Or perhaps, having the upper hand during a political debate with one lord or the other, silencing them with a few well-placed words and a look of mocking derision. No, the duke of Castle Aberleen was not one often surprised.

It was thus understandable that his eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of Diana—beautiful, lovely, and utterly enraged—shoving the screen partition aside and marching towards them. There was an unmistakable fire in her eyes as she glared venomously at Annalee.

"Diana," Aamon began. Had she seen that damned kiss?

"Why if it isn't the plain little—" Before Annalee could get another word out, there was a thud as Diana's fist made contact with her jaw, sending the captain reeling backward.

Aamon's mouth nearly fell open.

Not quite, but almost.

Annalee staggered as she shook her head. "How dare you," the captain snarled, righting herself. And then she chuckled, her ruby lips curling in a derisive smile. "My, my, the little lamb has claws after all, does she?"

"You can call me whatever you like," Diana snapped, taking a step towards the captain who towered a good few inches above her. "Tame, bland, boring, lamb, whatever—I don't really care. But what I care about is you assaulting my fiancé! Are you blind, delusional? What makes you think he wants you even?"

Annalee paused, glaring at Diana with unconcealed hate in her eyes. Aamon angled himself slightly, prepared to intervene should the captain retaliate. To her credit, Annalee was a capable fighter with her sword and pistol.