A Malice Heart
Chapter Twelve

Once a few days passed, Malice’s time in Alverdon village began to feel like a fever dream rather than something he physically encountered. His memories remained hazy of the events that occurred, but one thing wouldn’t leave his mind.

Drews smile.

Every time he wished to recall something of that day, he only saw those two dimples that popped up when the assassin flashed him a quick grin or smile. The sound of her laughter was like an echoing melody in his head that he simply couldn’t get out, and it had been driving him mad. He hated it so much. Hated it to the point where he was ready to kill her and make all of it go away there and then. Malice had debated that this same morning when he couldn’t concentrate on the giant pile of paperwork that waited to be checked, on whether he should simply kill the girl and end his own suffering with these trickeries she’s playing on him, or leave her be.

If he were placed in that situation of pointing a sword to her throat, would he hesitate to go for the kill? For once, the king had no answer. For once, he doubted himself.

Malice’s thoughts were disturbed at the sound of two loud bangs on his chamber doors before they were opened with extreme force. Drew, wearing a beautiful floral dress, marched in with a newspaper at hand and red in her eyes.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait for a reply before coming in?” Malice asked cooly as he lowered his feet from his desk, playing with the pen he had at hand.

Drew slammed the gray papers onto his desk and placed both her hands on either side of them, “Do you mind explaining what this is?”

“A newspaper.”

“Don’t play idiot with me, Malice,” she said through gritted teeth, her hands now turning to fists at the look of him not taking her seriously. Malice couldn’t help it. He had barely seen her for the past days and for once she came over to talk, yet this talk was aimed at King Malice, the one in charge of all the kingdom’s so-called problems, while he waited for her to join him for a talk just her and Malice, nothing else to come in between that.

“It’s hard to focus with you speaking my name so pleasantly,” he continued, now aching to see how far he could push the assassin before she broke her deal and reached for a nearby weapon. There were many pens and pencils nearby, perfect for stabbing someone’s throat if enough force was placed into the blow. A sword hung on the wall, behind Malice, so that would be too hard for her to reach. Any other idea she may come up with that Malice hadn’t thought of would only intrigue him more.

Drew looked like she was ready to yell some curse at him, but instead she let out a breath that seemed to come from deep within her and read off the papers, her hands already relaxing on the desk, with a calm voice. “Breaking Story: His Majesty The King Lowers Taxes By Ten Percent.” Malice grinned at the sound of that. He was surprised she had not come to him earlier with this news, a ‘thank you’ could have sufficed at the least.

“...From inside intel, our King had also done reforms on the exterior look of the grand palace using the citizen’s tax money. Around 89,000 golden coins.” Drew looked up once she finished reading the paper, now awaiting Malice’s reply.

The king looked up at her, cocking his head sideways in question. He wasn’t going to tell her anything she didn’t ask, it was as simple as that. Standing up from his chair, Malice rounded his desk so he now stood by the assassin’s side, grabbing a strand of her hair that had wandered onto her face and gently pushing it behind her ear to have a better look at that crude face.

Partially stunned, Drew knocked away his hand and turned her entire self to him, crossing her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, “I thought we made a deal.”

“We did, didn’t we? Didn’t I fulfill it as promised?”

“You know what I mean, Malice.”

Malice frowned, his eyes darkening. “Actually, Drew, I don’t know what you mean. I never even promised to make changes in the first place. To be frank with you, I never intended on making any changes. It was all to keep you from coming whining at my door, yet here you are still.”

Drew pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in another breath. “89,000. Golden. Coins. Do you understand what a waste that is? Do you understand how many people could have been saved with that amount of money?”

“Perhaps I do,” he replied slowly, attempting to recall his memories of the day they visited Alverdone village, yet failing once again. Drew’s smile was all he saw as they walked down those dirty streets while nothing else came to mind. Malice leaned down to her so their faces were merely inches apart. “Perhaps I do,” he repeated, quietly now, “yet I simply don’t care.”

Drew withdrew her hand from her face, sensing their closeness. “What is the matter with you?”

Malice froze for a moment, watching the expression on her face change.

“Why do you act like this?” she continued, raising her hand’s palms upwards in between them. “Is it so hard for you to simply be a good king? What kind of monster do you have to be to do such a disgusting thing after everything I showed you? Oh, right, I know what kind of monster. A monster named Malice. One who simply. Doesn’t. Care.”

The tension in the room rose, the air becoming extremely thick. Even the birds outside of Malice’s balcony seized from chirping, awaiting the king’s reply. Malice straightened himself, eyes not leaving Drew’s own, as he spoke coldly, “Get out.”

“I’m not going to let you simply kick me ou—”

“I told you to get out!” Malice yelled, reaching for her hand so he could pull the stubborn girl away, but Drew was faster, evading his range. She looked at him as if she didn’t recognize him anymore, as if she were staring at a complete stranger. Malice wanted to make that expression leave her face, so she never looked at him like that again, but couldn’t. “Please, just…go.”

Drew seemed to understand that there was nothing she could do, so she simply turned on her heel and left the room, the door slamming shut from behind her. Now Malice stood in his chambers alone, the silence swallowing him whole. It was once again just him and his thoughts, those horrible, inhumane thoughts.

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Malice paced the room, grabbing a nearby vase and throwing it onto the ground with as much force as he could. The glass piece broke into tiny pieces, spreading all around his dark carpet.

All of this was just as his parents had predicted before they died. That one day where Malice just happened to walk by their chambers and hear the two yelling at one another.

“One day he will lose himself entirely, Joseph!” His mother’s voice, which was usually as quiet as any formal lady’s voice should be, echoed all around the chambers. “I see it in his eyes every night. That hunger to hurt people, that need to see others suffer. When he saw the search dogs tear into the rabbits, there were no emotions in his eyes. The boy can’t feel anything.”

Her tone sounded distressed as if she were in the middle of a panic attack. His father’s voice came next, shushing his wife, but as soon as he saw that it wasn’t working, a loud smack sounded and his mother’s whimpers seized.

“Shut up, woman. Someone ought to hear you with all this crying,” the late king cleared his throat, his boots clanking on the marble floors as he paced around his chambers. “Malice is a special boy and will make a fine king one day, I see it happening with my own eyes, Darla. Him seated at the throne, looking just like his old man.”

Looking just like him.

Malice realized looking at the mirror that hung beside his desk. I look just like him.

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