Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

37: Forbidden

She was angry. So, so angry. The ice that had gripped her in shock after the assassination attempt had melted away, to be replaced by churning flames.

She didn't know why she felt such a torrent of emotions, and they scared her. She had to keep everything under control, she had to learn how to be a strong ruler, emotions didn't matter right now. She still had a goal to reach, things to achieve, people to kill. Nothing had changed.

But her hands wouldn't stop shaking and she didn't know why.

So Delilah called on Kaya and Nell, told them everything that had happened in the night.

"Nell, I want you to tail Peters. I think he's gone to inspect the pits," she said, and Nell nodded.

"No one will notice me," she said with a sly smile.

"Kaya," Delilah began.

"Yes? Who am I killing?" She looked hopeful.

Delilah grinned. "No one. We're going to smash up Peters' chambers so he gets a nasty shock when he comes back."

She had to get the fury out of her system somehow, and this was the alternative to murder.

Delilah and Kaya easily located the councilman's room, picked the lock, and unleashed themselves upon it.

First, they enjoyed themselves with smashing everything glass or crystal. Soon the floor was covered in chips and shards that caught the light of the candles around them.

Kaya shoved Peters' desk onto its side with a satisfied grunt, and papers and ink bottles flew everywhere.

Delilah chuckled darkly. "Do you remember when we met, Kaya?"

"Oh, yes." Kaya's grin was feline. "Well... things are a little hazy, actually."

"Really? I'm impressed, because if I'd have been that drunk I wouldn't have remembered anything."

"Well, I think I still have the bruises you gave me, so that helps jog the memory."

"It was over a year ago."

"Exactly." Kaya winked and plucked a book off the bookshelf, where she promptly began tearing out pages.

Delilah picked up an important looking volume and did the same.

She and Nell had only just started travelling together, after Nell had deemed her wounds healed.

They were both fugitives, and frequented backwater towns full of thieves and the poor. They'd met Kaya on the coast, where she'd smuggled herself aboard a trading ship to get away from a strict rich family and an arranged marriage she'd never wanted.

Delilah and Nell, both tired, had walked into the tavern to find Kaya staggering around asking who wanted to fight her. They'd ignored her and sat at the bar with their drinks.

Then Kaya had climbed onto a table, and Delilah realised she'd felt drawn to the feisty, blue-eyed spitfire. But Nell had convinced her not to rise to the challenge, so they'd prepared to leave.

Kaya had thrown a knife at her.

It had missed – barely. And so it began: the most spectacular brawl the tavern had seen in centuries.

Smiling at the memory, Delilah unsheathed a knife and tore holes in Peters' mattress and pillowcases.

That night, sleep eluded her. She paced the rooms restlessly; her suite seemed too small, its walls pressing in on her. She'd been steadily drinking wine ever since she realised that trying to remain in bed was impossible. The buzz of the alcohol began to course through her veins, and she found herself leaving her room, still clutching the bottle to her chest, and weaving her way through the corridors.