Ace of Spades ~Watty Awards 2011~

-- Prologue --

Eve traced the corridor, each step quick and silent, bearing hardly any weight. The stone box of a building was filled with echoes of the slightest sound, yet Eve could always get away without a trace. Maybe it was because she’s lived there her whole life that she’d found the secret to secrecy. Either way, she was able to sneak out from her room with no bother from guards. On this night in particular, stealth was extremely important.

It was on this night in particular that stealth would lead her away from death.

She wandered past frequent bursts of musty rose scent, as the castle was packed full of the stuff. The gardener tried to keep the castle lively with these bunches of flowers, but with the grey walls and dark floorboards, the deep red colour of the drooping blossoms was just depressing. It was a typically Gothic building, you see, with spiralling turrets, looming high ceilings and permanently closed drapes, and was set on a hill in the most barren, isolated place you could imagine. The only signs of life outside the castle were the bats, who returned to their nests in the tallest tower each evening. To Eve’s annoyance, this was in her room.

Eve slowed down as she neared Jack’s chamber. Yes, that was the definite drone of voices. But who could it be? Had Jack really gotten so senile he’d started talking to himself? She suppressed a chuckle at the image of him chatting to thin air about pointless nonsense. Slowly going insane.

It wasn’t that she hated Jack; she just hated the way he strode around the castle like he owned it, when he was only living there temporarily until the new queen took over. She hated how he spoke to the servants like they were a whole different, lower class of species. And she especially hated the way he glowered at her when they’d hardly spoken since he’d arrived.

Eve was about to start walking again when she heard a gunshot.

She stared at the door in alarm for ages before she came to her senses.

God, what has he done?

Slowly, she turned the handle, almost afraid to find out. A body lay on the floor. The man had blonde hair, blank, hazel eyes, and a bloody wound pouring from his chest…

The man wasn’t Jack. Jack was standing right by his feet, talking to another man who was sitting down by a pot of roses. This man had brown hair with a slight hint of copper in, and his eyes were unreadable. He was gripping the arms of the chair, straining not to look at his unfortunate partner.

“Of course, this won’t have to happen if you do it properly, Knightly.” Jack kissed his gun lovingly, “I think the silencer would be best this time.”

“Yes, sir.” Knightly said, hardly moving his lips as he stared at the pistol.

“As soon as you get to the top of the tallest tower,” Jack suddenly whirled round and lifted his arm, “Kill on sight.”

As he pulled the trigger, the bullet shot into the door and Eve yelped, despite herself.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, “Get her.”

Knightly had just gotten out of his chair when Eve ran. She ran across the landing, down the spiral staircase, through the dining room, and arrived, heart thumping, at the huge wooden front doors. She heaved at them with her shoulder, to no avail. There was no time to head for the back door; Knightly was just around the corner. Then, without thinking, she hurled herself through the window, glass shattering all around her. She cried out on impact with the ground, and squeezed tight into a ball until she reached the bottom of the great hill.

Okay, now she hated Jack.