The Knight's Eyes

33: BREAKFAST 'N SUDS

After a quick inspection of his new whip wounds already partially healed, he refreshed and got dressed. Why in the world would the witch want to have breakfast with him after he had just tried to kill her? Would this be his death sentence in which she would eat and watch it occur? In the process of getting ready he dug into his memory and only could withdraw a slight moment of hiding in a wardrobe. This must meant his memory would return casually on its own.

He made his way to the first floor, scolding and rubbing the bridge of his nose on each step. Beo stopped cleaning his fur to growl at him from across the second floor balcony. Their paths hadn't crossed since they met his first night at the castle and he'd like to keep it that way. He gave him a grinned salute.

Upon stepping onto the rectangular foyer, he breathed in butter biscuits. He sighed and his stomach rumbled, but his headache heightened. He combed his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp in the process.

"Human, this way," Kaahiss called from the hallway.

He spun around and walked the familiar route to the large dinning room. The doors sat propped open and the raptor stood beside them wearing dark green breeches and a matching bow tie.

Alsin couldn't help but smile, "Kaahissssssss."

The raptor hissed and rolled his eyes. "I would not joke when entering this room."

The knight didn't need to ask why. There, sitting in a large chair at the end of the table was the witch herself. Her presence wiped the smile from his face the pain in his head swam into his frontal lobe. The room blurred for a mere second. He massaged his forehead and entered the room large enough to swallow him whole.

Good thing he still remembered how he ended up as her property and why. This witch was still a mass murderer who deserved to die nonetheless. Plus, it was the only way to stop the curse. He approached the line of chairs ignoring her glaring icy eyes and soaked in the dishes on the table. Abebe had done well: biscuits, scrambled eggs, fried beef, chopped potatoes, and a creamy cheese sauce on the side. Despite the headache, his mouth watered and his stomach jumped for joy.

He glanced at Abebe standing by the kitchen door and winked. She looked away fighting against the urge to smile. He chose the cushioned chair five seats away from the horrid witch. He leaned and snatched the plate placed for him closer to the host. A strong pressure claimed the other end of the plate and his snatch jerked to a halt.

He looked up at the witch who had raised an index finger. Those bulging eyes skinned him alive. That's when everything flooded back into his head. The butcher knife he stole from the kitchen. Hiding in the witch's wardrobe for hours until she fell asleep. Then he stabbed her, good in the heart, a heart, which she said was already dead. The wooden room he was thrown in with its illusion of mirrors. The pain and insanity...

His heart skipped a beat and shutters washed him in pure fear, and released the plate. She released the plate from her magic. It fell onto the table with a sharp clatter. A long crooked line formed along the plate's glass surface. He swallowed and averted his eyes anywhere but her dead ones. Abebe scurried into the kitchen probably to replace his plate.

Nightingale snapped a few times and he was drawn to look down the table at her. Her head tilted to the side, a curl escaped her pinned-up style.

You must enjoy pain, her lips said. Alsin groaned at this new knowledge of the witch's lack of a voice. He never met anyone who could not talk, which amazed him how he could easily understand her lips.

To make things worst, the ugly wench possessed no sound, so the only way to get his attention was snapping. Walta used to snap at him when he was younger to get his attention and it annoyed him greatly. He already had to succumb to the lizard's constant use of calling him human, now he had to deal with this.