W.I.T.C.H.: The Bloody Throne

Part 8

They have been there for so long, it would be cruel to let them wait any longer, now wouldn't it?"

"True, it would be cruel to let them wait, but we can't be too hastily now. If we acted too soon, our friends from Meridian might try to stop me, so they must be taken care of first." Armana purred to herself at the thought. "But that wouldn't take too long. They are to arrive in just a few weeks."

"True, it is only a few weeks now. Three weeks and two days before our plan can start blooming." Corrected Ionah and returned to her seat at the sofa.

"However, tell me one thing." Armana rested her head in her hands and stared at Ionah as if she were trying to remember every detail of the woman; from the ram horns to the golden hair, to the magenta eyes. "Why do you want the Queen. What is she to you?"

Ionah only shrugged her shoulders. "Does it matter why I want the Queen?"

"No, it doesn't." replied Armana, "it doesn't."

XXXXX

While Armana was comforted by her new advisor, her son was running about the castle looking for his friend. Despite being 13, nothing delighted more than playing children's games with his dearest friend Ratun. Sadly, Ratun was a master at hide and seek; then again, the boy was 15 and could move like a ghost. Dante ran from one room to another looking for his friends in the closets, under tables, in servant cabinets, and under beds but he couldn't find his friend. The one-room Dante did not think to search was the library, where his cousin Myra resided daily. That was where Ratun was, hidden behind a bookshelf, his pale brown eyes fixated on Princess Myra. He didn't mind that he was of higher states then him or that she was older than him. If anything, the fact that she was older than any girl his age made her more valuable to him. To Ratun, the girls his age were already wasted, having given their purity to some plebeian with a handsome face.

To add to her value, Myra had sworn a vow of chastity, so she was still as pure as a waterlily. He couldn't help but desire her. Hidden behind the bookshelf, she closed his eyes and smelled the air; despite being on the other side of the room, he could smell the warm chestnut scent of her black hair, the smell of fresh milk of her skin, and the smell of worn books that clung to both her and the room. Opening his eyes, he couldn't help but compare her image to that of a goddess. She sat by a large, round, window with stain glass roses around its' edge. She sat perfectly in the center and the roses framed her image. The setting sun bathed her in a warm, orange glow; giving her charcoal black hair an angelic halo. Her skin had a golden outline, her red lips were shined like she kissed rubies, her bosoms appeared soft like pillows stuffed with the softest pillows. Her features were so finely formed that she looked like a statue brought to life. She was his goddess.

Slowly, he dared to come out of hiding and quietly move closer to her; his feet were like light leaves on grass and her attention was deep within the book she was reading. Within a minute, he had crossed the room and stood behind the young princess, his spindly fingers clutching the back of Myra's chair and his sharp nails digging into red velvet that covered it. With his eyes half opened, he inhaled her scent and shuttered; she smelled so much better up close.