Lines of Violence

04

A very belated update so apologies for this! As always, reviews and votes will be appreciated and motivating. Happy reading lovelies!  x

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Morning arrived when Gaspard strode through the doors, dawn trailing on his heels, the smell of smoke lacing his movements. Leona stirred at the commotion, opening her bleary eyes and lazily rubbed the sleep away. Gaspard tossed aside his brocade jacket and slumped down into a nearby chair.

Leona turned onto her side lazily, propping her head up, hair a tousled mess. Only when she saw her ruined dress lying on the ground did she remember last night's events. She suddenly found it hard to look at Gaspard's direction.

— Silence reigned.

Her cheeks burned. She resorted to staring at the roses on the bedside table.

Gaspard clenched his jaws, unbuttoning his shirt (the tattoo on his chest peaked out at Leona, the snake being its fangs). It was clear he hadn't slept at all— it was written in the shadows beneath his eyes, in every blink of his eyes. "About last night..." Leona tentatively started. "You didn't have to..."

His fingers slipped on a button, and he paused before moving to kneel next to the bed. His movements were slow, heavy with something other than exhaustion. His folded his arms on the silk sheets, resting his head. "It was nothing."

Leona pulled the sheets tighter over herself, a bitter taste in her mouth. "Then why didn't you stay?" She almost regretted those words the moment they left her tongue. Dammnit, it wasn't like she wanted him to stay.

"I was out."

"...And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means that I was hunting down the perpetrators. No one should ever be able to invade our home, much less our private quarters."

Oh. She hadn't expected that answer, and thought he had spent the night far from this bed. She almost wanted to reach out and smooth the exhaustion away from him. Almost.

"I found those cowards hiding away at the borders." His tone was resolute. Iron. It seemed like no one could run from him, no one was ever fast enough.

"And...? What did you do?" Leona asked softly, prying answers from him like peeling skin off an orange.

"I burnt their place down."

Gaspard raised his gaze to hers, something savage lurking in the depths. A chill crept down her spine. He was the perfect picture of a fallen prince — all smoke and tainted hands, bones wrapped in inexplicable darkness.

"You...!" She abruptly whacked him over the head with her pillow, exasperated when he caught hold of it and tucked it beneath his head. All over some sweetmeats?! "What they did was nothing more than a ill willed prank, you didn't have to bur—"

"I had to send a message, Leona. They were hired. It was more than a silly prank." Leona opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. How was he to explain to her that the act itself carried more words than it seemed? "You're going to give me a headache and it's only dawn. Sleep now. I'll wake you later."

And like that he was gone. The only evidence of his stay was his jacket (and a stray button rolling somewhere...).

Leona slumped back down, glaring at the ceiling, blood running cold. Again and again rang his words —I burnt their place down.