Ophelia has always had trust issues. But it all started when her father, the person who was supposed to love and care for her mother and her for the rest of his life, allowed the excuse of an empire called the Yerpen to kill her mother, his own wife...
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Ophelia didn't take my hand. She stared at me, unmoving.
I was about to pull my hand away, when she suddenly gripped it. But it wasn't to shake it. No, she twisted it until it was bent at an angle and behind my back. My shoulder screamed as something cold bit into my neck.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now." She hissed in my ear. Her breath was hot, and it crept down my neck. I held in a shiver, taking in a breath. It took me a moment to process what she'd said. It'd all happened so fast. I was either really out of practice, or she was deadlier than I'd expected. Infinitely more deadlier.
I didn't respond, and she pressed the blade harder. One move on my part and it'd penetrate skin. "You're time's running out, Prince." She spat the title out like an insult. It probably was.
I winced, my mind whirling trying to pick out the right words. The blade pressed harder, and a bead of blood welled and slid down my neck, tickling my skin. "I need your help." I gasped. She sunk the blade a little deeper, not falling for my 'lies.' Why would she have? If I were her, I wouldn't have believed me.
She laughed for a short moment. "And why would you, the crown heir to the Yerpen, want my, the leading General to the Anarchy Heist's most deadly unit's help?"
"I want to kill my father." I strained, trying to pull away from the blade that kept pressing against my throat.
She paused. The blade didn't continue to push against my throat, but it still remained, its presence a warning. "And what makes you think I'll believe that?" She asked.
A lump formed in my throat, begging me to gulp. But I was this close from my throat being spilled. I wasn't going to gulp.
And then I started to wonder: What could I have said that would've made her believe me? I couldn't show her the maps or the plans, not when I had a knife to my throat and the possibility of her thinking they were fake was highly probable.
"What?" She yelled. Her mouth was close to my ear, and my eye twitched at how loud her voice was. It rang through my ears, echoing.
"Because," I said, exasperated. "I know how to kill my father. How to abolish the Yerpen. For good." She stayed silent, and I took that as my cue to continue.
_________
I lied.
To be accurate, I half lied. Which means I technically told her the truth. The half truth. Technically speaking, everyone knew how to kill my father. He was human; a stab in the heart or a cracked skull and then he'd descend to the demon pits. And as for the second part... That was the part where I'd lied. Abolishing the Yerpen was a huge task, one that'd take years.
"And how do I know you're telling the truth?" She asked, pulling my arm. My arm strained as she pulled, screaming as it bent at an unholy angle.
"Why would I lie? I have a knife to my throat?" I winced. It was the most unbelievable excuse, and at this point, I was just stalling.
