The King's Possession ✔️

FIVE

Word Count: 1996

I feel foolish for telling him goodnight.

The hallway light swings tauntingly, and eerie shadow following it's constant sway. A blizzard has fallen over the village as dusk has, the wind threatening the wood boards that protect us in here. I refuse to intimidated, despite the weather, despite the time of night. I have a job to do, and that is to deliver Marek's dinner.

It's the last night. He's leaving tomorrow.

I allow that thought to comfort me, as I knock promptly on his door. This will be the last night I have to fear him, to bring him his dinner, and be caught in a frightening conversation. Even if, admittedly, I will miss his presence.

The fear has been...fun, exhilarating, in a shameful way that I've enjoyed more than I would to admit.

He opens the door, his scent washing over me, leaving my head spinning. It's an addictive mix of pine and cinnamon, which I hope will linger in this room even after he is gone. Shaking the thought away, I nod at his food in my hands as he steps aside to let me in.

Each time I step over the threshold of his room, I can't help but shudder. He's dressed simply, in a black shirt and loose sweatpants, but I don't spend less than a moment dwelling on that. Instead, I walk to the desk, and place his dinner down, just like I did the first night I met him.

"Didn't know it was your turn to tend to me," he murmurs, his tone deeper as night has fallen, rough around the edges.

As I go to turn around to look at him, I see something glint by his bedside. A crossbow. My stomach turns over dramatically. Then, my frantic gaze lands on his bare hands, arms, which are dusted with the faintest hint of the mark that touches his forehead. How many years has he withheld his magic?

"Fran is dead asleep and won't wake, and Jessa is out somewhere," I say numbly, hardly hearing the words out of my mouth. I can't imagine where Jessa would be, with the blizzard roaring spectacularly outside, shaking the foundation of the Inn.

"Thank you for my dinner," Marek says simply.

He turns his back to me. Shaking my hands frantically, attempting to compose myself, I breathe in deeply. I refuse to act like the demure fool he surely sees me as. A question lingers dangerously in my mind, that has been bothering me since this afternoon.

I clear my throat, getting his attention again. "Can I ask you something?"

He turns around. "Yes, of course."

"Why do you do it? Hunt a Tani? For all you know, it could be a treasured Guardian to someone who isn't you," I say, practically all in one breath. Marek doesn't move, doesn't flinch. There is no ounce of ire to his expression, despite my accusatory tone. It irked me, this afternoon, when he acted so interested in my Tani, when his intentions are to kill another.

His jaw goes slack for a moment, as he breathes in smoothly, loosening it in one sigh. "This creature isn't just a predator. It's a demon. And although my bad luck prevails, I will find it, and kill it."

His eyes are ice, pure and glacial. Despite the fixed pressure of his gaze, I don't look away from him. He speaks true to his name sake. A hunter in it's finest form.

"I know little of the Snow Demon, other than that it's a scorpion like creature. It buries itself in the snow, luring victims before dragging them under the surface, suffocating them," I recall. It's a vicious, dark legend that Jessa informed me of one night. Clearly this Tani is real, if Marek has spent his life hunting it.

"It targets Summoners, leeching their abilities. It loves lost little Summoner children," he says sourly. The icy rage that dances in his eyes has me finally glancing away. It was a mistake, coming in here, questioning him like this.