Seven Deadly Sons

Ameline. (22)

Then, a hand on my waist. 

All thoughts of any others humans blew away quick as wind.

I felt each finger curl slowly around the dip there, the master of the hand evidently taking their time to soak in all the fear I had to give. Then, another round my mouth much quicker, and I was being dragged backwards. It was obvious to us both that I would not struggle in any way that drew the attentions of the other ælfin — because the man behind me was certainly one of them, too —, and the thought that I was giving up so quickly boiled my blood. I thought of all the ways I could kill someone quietly - maybe asphyxiation?

The memory of my last failed murder came to mind, unbidden. Every time I thought of all the blood, vile came up my throat and my struggle lessoned. I was practically walking hand in hand with the elf by the time I controlled the vignette forming around my eyes.

We had begun walking back towards the palace, and, honestly, I was glad. The prince might rip me to ting shreds when we get there, but at least it will be indoors. I was sick of not being able to see, constantly tripping over these malevolent trees. How could trees hate me? It was so obscene, and I started ramming my heel into the bark with every step, hoping beyond hope that the trees were wincing and ruing the day they ever — ouch!

Another root shifted, this time so tactfully that I went straight to my knees, scratching and, from the heat of it, drawing some small amount of blood. The prince offered a hand in the hard to lift me up, but I slapped it away. I would not bow down to a self righteous asshole when he knew full well the trees shifted independently — when he probably controlled them all himself! Irrational, I thought with a creased brow as I watched another tree make moves, but I honestly wouldn't be surprised considering the circumstances. And that he isn't dead! How did he survive? I. Stabbed. His. Throat. And his chest! I probably severed his spine!

Whilst I lost myself in thoughts of how unfortunate my life was shaping up to me, in the meantime we had walked all the way back to the main palace clearing.

The prince had walked in line with me the whole way not saying a word. The morning sun was still quite low, only a faint arc of light through the sky that picked out the ginger of his hair.

The ginger of his hair?

"Well done good fellow! You found her much faster than I could." I continued to gape, much like a fish, for the second time tonight while the Prince of Fury again surprised me. "Where was she? Frolicking with the frogs I bet! Did she hide in that pond — she does love a good natural bath." He strolled over to me and Tierney still in his royal solstice regalia. A circlet was in his hand rather than on his head, and he spun it around a finger as if it didn't cost hundreds of pounds.

"She was running bare foot over the trees, Kismet." Kismet? Bit personal Tierney... "I still don't know how she managed to travel so far. Her knees are sliced to pieces though, so I suppose the trees did try..."

They carried on a little bantering moment between them; discussing the pros and cons of shoes when traversing the living wood. I knew it wasn't my imagination. I took the opportunity to see how Oliver was holding up.

Even though he was still snug against me, he wasn't very happy at all. Panting heavily, he let out a little cry every other breath and kept using his free paw to scratch and nudge my collar bone. I let him down so he could wander the grassy areas, using his lead-slash-baby carrier-slash-belt to make sure he didn't get lost. Or eaten.

"Come along then, fragile girl." The prince addressed me. "You have caused me a lot of trouble tonight. If I don't take you back to my rooms — obviously not to sleep with me. You'll likely have a good strong beating — mother will be furious, and that incessant girl from earlier will probably hunt me down and try and shag me."