A New Kind of Tale

Idris: Things Get Ugly

"I'm going to kill him."

"Demetrius..." Idris warned.

"What? I'm not allowed to threaten to kill people?"

"No it's just that if you did kill someone you'd get caught. You know you have a horrible guilty conscience. All it would take is one second thought," Idris said.

"And you'd go spilling your guts to the nearest authority figure," Quillon added. "Which would probably end up being me. Then I'd have to arrest you. And I'd rather not do that because you're not a half-bad servant." Idris kicked him under the table. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Being an arrogant dimwit earlier," she replied nonchalantly. "Demetrius, there's nothing Cytrus can do to me that's legal in Gemorian. I'll be fine."

Demetrius scoffed. "Just because it's not legal doesn't mean he won't do it."

"True," Quillon agreed. "I've tried kicking Cytrus out of the Knights at least a dozen times. Every single time he goes to King Elwin and begs forgiveness. Honestly annoying."

"'Forgiveness will be given to those who ask'," Idris recited solemnly. It was one of King Elwin's rules in order to make sure Gemorian was a fair kingdom. Anything short of murder you could ask forgiveness for and you'd receive it. Demetrius let out a dramatic sigh.

"Why couldn't we have a cruel, vicious king?" he joked. They all let out a laugh that was short lived.

Quillon took a sip of the drink the cooks had prepared them and made a face. He put the mug down and scooted it away. "This tastes like tree bark."

"You don't know what tree bark tastes like," Idris pointed out. Quillon rolled his eyes.

"Coffee. We have new trade with Oolona for it," Idris said. Quillon shook his head sadly, causing Idris to hide a smile in a mug. She had a very feminine smile, unfortunately.

Their table was quite for a bit, and then Demetrius, sensing the awkward air, got up, stretched, and put his mug of coffee back. "So, um, I'm tired. Which means Quillon has to retire to his chambers because I have to tuck him into bed-"

"You don't have to 'tuck me into bed' you have to lock the doors and windows."

"And you can't do this yourself?"

"I'm exhausted from the fight," Quillon complained.

"Mhm. Exactly. Anyway, we bid you goodnight Ivan." Demetrius walked out. Quillon gave Idris a smile that tugged on her heartstrings before pointing to Demetrius and mouthing 'crazy'. Idris sniggered into her cup but nodded. "I can read lips, Quillon," Demetrius reminded him.

Quillon, a bit embarrassed, got up and left with Demetrius without saying a word. This left Idris with her own thoughts and a cup of bitter coffee. She sat, listening to the bustle of the kitchen and drank in the smell of cooking food and brewing tea. She let out a small sigh. It was peaceful.

She should've savored it longer.

The morning of the knighting ceremony Idris woke up to an alarming amount of knocking on her door. She opened the door to an equally alarming, bruised face of Demetrius. Quickly, she ushered him in before closing the door and folded her arms across her chest. He had a welt above his right eyebrow, and the left eye was black. Three scratches lined his cheek and in generally he looked as though he'd been hit in the head with a chair.

"What the hell happened to you?" Idris asked, her voice worried and a bit incredulous. Demetrius was never really... mean to anyone. He was popular among the servants and she just couldn't see one of the nobles doing this.