A Malice Heart
Chapter Thirteen

By that same evening, Malice had taken to staying in his room. He had no desire to walk outside or do anything that involved interacting with the people around him. All he did for the rest of the day was lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Thinking over all the years that had passed, every bit of memory that could define who he was today. From the days of him as a teen, roaming the palace hallways and causing trouble with each step he took, to the day he found his parents lying dead in the throne room, their corpses deathly cold.

“Who could have done this to you?” he remembered muttering to himself, leaning over their bodies to have a better look at their frozen faces. The way their eyes were glossed and blood leaked from their mouths. “Who would dare murder the royal king and queen? Who would have access to the poison cabinets that were so well hidden inside the palace dorms? I wonder how long it took that killer to search restlessly, day and night, watching and waiting for some kind of sign because he had no clue where all these poisons were concealed from any possible roaming hands.”

The corpses still remained still, their limbs unmoving, their eyelids unblinking. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room along with their lives, now leaving a cold deem behind. It felt like he partially waited for them both to stand up, to end their charade and continue their day like usual. But here they were, and there he was. The king and queen were long gone and never coming back.

Malice frowned, wrapping his hands behind his back, leaning back upwards. “I guess we’ll never know then.”

Since that day, he had felt a different kind of empty. Malice liked to guess that it was the whole responsibility of taking over the throne and ruling the kingdom. How he would get daily headaches from the number of times he was forced to interact with the people around him. All the whining and pleading he received from the peasants that lived right outside his tall palace walls. He hated it all, wished for the world around him to simply disappear so these thoughts could finally seize from bothering him. So for once, Malice could feel a sense of peace and calmness from within. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A knock once again took him away from those thoughts, the ones that disturb him with each passing day, but this time he didn’t answer it. Malice simply continued laying there, hands crossed over his stomach and eyes locked up on the ceiling above him.

There were another two louder knocks before the door slowly opened, and from the corner of his eye, he could see a head of red curls peeking inside. “I’m coming in, so you better be fully dressed, Malice.”

Malice didn’t answer or look as Drew quietly stepped in, and from the sound of it, she had changed her flats to simply wearing socks. So very like the assassin.

He hadn’t noticed how dark it had really become in his room until Drew lit up a few of the candles that lay around him and peered over at the king, the light from the candles dancing in her blue eyes, “I see you’re brooding now.”

The king didn’t reply. He had no means to answer her now.

Drew let out a faint sigh and lowered the candle she had at hand onto his nightstand, “Listen, I came here to… apologize for the way I acted this morning,” she took a moment to pause, perhaps waiting to see if Malice would reply to what she said or react in any way, but he remained still, listening.

“I guess that after our trip to Alverdon, I expected more change. Something bigger. In other words, I expected to wake up in a completely different kingdom but found myself stuck in the same nightmare. Seeing you watching the world with that same gaze, that gaze that had no emotion in it whatsoever, was as painful as watching one’s dreams crash before their eyes.”

At that, Malice slowly turned his head towards her direction, the sheets ruffling under him at the movement. “Flattering words, darling. Now tell me what you really think.”

Drew looked like she was on the verge of crying out, but at his words, she grinned, not a toothy smile, just a perk of her lips. “I see that I cannot fool you anymore.”

Malice didn’t smile back at her. He didn’t feel as if they were on the same page, only that she was far ahead of him while he was already rotting in the back.

“You’re a heartless bastard. If that is what you want to hear, then I’ll say it. I mean, look at your state since the last time I bashed out at you,” she indicated with both arms at his form, “you look like you just went through a rough breakup.”

Again, Malice didn’t reply. Now he just watched her speak, listened to her ramble on how he looked and the kind of energy that he spewed everywhere he walked. At some point, she stopped and grumbled, “I feel like I’m having a one-sided conversation here. Do you mind at least moving your head or something?”

The king simply nodded and blinked slowly, “Did you mean anything of what you said earlier?” when she cocked her head in question, he continued, “about my dream-crashing gaze?”

Drew let out a breath, seating herself on the far side of the bed and leaning on the pole, the mattress creaking from the sudden added weight.

“Well, partially. I wasn’t going to actually cry about it, but it does feel like a stone just crashed the parade. It’s just that while we were walking, you were actually smiling—”

Because of you.

“—and joking—”

Because of you.

“—and you seemed like someone who finally came out of this dark shell—”

Because. Of. You.

Drew turned to him as he thought those words over and over. All for her, he had felt those feelings. That was why all he saw in his memories were the images of Drew, of her smile, and the sound of her laughter all around him. Because that is what he had been looking at their entire time and focused on memorizing her perfectly before their time ran out. All of these memories started and ended with her in a matter of two days.

“I have something for you,” his voice was like gravel as he spoke those words, indicating his head towards the table beside his bed, “inside the top drawer.”

Doubtful, Drew slid towards the drawer, her back now to Malice as he watched her open the first drawer by its handle and let out a small gasp. Inside laid exactly what he had wished to give her not too long ago.

Drew pulled out a long dagger, with it a dagger strap for her thigh. He remembered how on the day he had seen her in that cell, Drew’s first instinct was to pull out the dagger that had been on her thigh, but the guards had obviously taken it off. This was that very same dagger.

Malice had no idea if it meant anything special to her or if it were simply a weapon she stole from someone one day on the streets, but now all he could think about was the look of happiness on her face as she flipped the sharpened blade over and over in her hands, as if checking to see if it were really the same blade she had come here with.

Letting out a laugh she turned to Malice, “Bold of you to trust our agreement so much.”

At that, Malice allowed a slight grin. He guessed this seemed to her like a stupid decision to make, given how much he had gotten on her nerve lately and that all it took was a swing of the blade and he would be down and dead on his own bed.

“Use it how you see fit,” he replied calmly, watching the blade glinting in the firelight. “I trust you to do the right thing.”

Drew scrunched her face in question, “What the hell is that supposed to—?”

Her question was cut out by a light knock on his bedroom doors before they were opened and a butler walked in with a silver plate at hand. “Your Majesty, I have your dinner ready.” He was startled for a moment as he spotted Drew but didn’t say anything, only bowed low to the king. “Do you wish me to bring another meal for the lady?”

“Oh, no need. I’ll probably be leaving—” Drew already started getting up, but Malice quickly stopped her by grasping her forearm, looking up at her before replying to the butler.

“That would be very much appreciated.”

The butler bowed once again and quickly walked off, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Before Drew could question him, Malice only sat upwards so he could lean himself back on the headrest, “You see, Drew, how a door is supposed to be shut when one walks out?”

The assassin only laughed, also laying her back on the headrest of the bed and sitting not too far away from the king. “You know, I really am sorry for the way I acted earlier. I know that when it comes to you, we have to take baby steps. Step after step, and one day,” she turned to him, those blue eyes practically glowing with hope, “I see you becoming a good king.”

Hope. For the first time in his life, someone had hope for Malice. The worst problem was that this bit of hope came up as soon as he had lost every bit of hope he had in himself.

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