6
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The ball ended.

The guests exited the palace grounds, hands rising in farewells to favouring families and Lords. A servant, as promised, had come to collect Yazia. The night sky above was picturesque, so clear that you could almost see every crater of the ethereal glow of the crescent moonlight.

"Is my dear friend allowed to accompany me? I wouldn't dare meet with the King if my companion is also not taken care of," Yazia said.

"It is not up to me, my Lady. I'm merely following the King's orders. Though I can assure you that your friend will be provided a chamber. He will also be able to visit you once you have had an audience with the King. Now follow me," the servant apprised Yazia.

Yazia's heart momentarily sunk. As much as she was ready to meet again with the King, she did hope that she could be within the presence of Aeneas just a short while longer. He had stayed with her for the rest of the evening watching the night stars in the palace gardens.

Given how Aeneas had left her alone to dance earlier on, the conversation of his disappearance hadn't been brought up and she admittedly wanted to keep an eye on him. It felt as though he knew more about the King than what was led on, and Yazia wished to garner as much knowledge about the Sovereign as possible.

After all, Yazia couldn't trust anybody. None besides her brother, at the very least.

Yazia nodded dismissively and allowed herself to be taken down long corridors coated with royal blue carpeting, winding down with intricate patterns just like the detailing she had seen on the tiles earlier on before entering the ballroom. She passed through sconces shaped like peacocks and through many doorways of which were lined with vases. Eventually. Yazia was deposited in front of a large door.

The King's door.

"This is where I leave you, My Lady. He is right through there," the young lady servant said, and raised a hand pointedly toward the door. Yazia didn't expect to end paths with the maidservant so soon, but it made sense how the King would wish to have the rest of the evening to himself.

But why has he asked for me to stay?

"Thank you." Yazia nodded briefly. "You may be dismissed."  Yazia watched as the servant gave a swift curtsy and wandered back down the pristine hallway they had come from, leaving Yazia at the door by herself.

The door was all that stood in her way, shielding her from the perilous conqueror that had brought her Kingdom to flames. The King's chambers were just beyond its thick oaken panels. Yazia's hands trembled, she guided her finger slowly across the etchings of the wood, ready to make her presence known. But Yazia didn't move, instead she froze in hesitation and glared at her tantalising egress.

Only darkness awaits me on the other side. I must do it. I can't stay here any longer, I must kill--

Then, as though to call upon the devil himself, the door swung wide open. There he was, his hand placed on the doorframe. Immediately, Yazia's gaze flitted to the swirls sweeping up the door's frame and the way the lacquered surface cast a reflection of her face—one that reminded her of who she was. Not a girl who'd come to befriend the king but to assassinate him.

A burly physique stood in the doorway to the King's work-room. Yazia met his stare. Eyes were the first thing she acknowledged, and became familiar with; his blue, entrancing irises resembled liquid pools of flashing fire. The swirl of his loamy cologne wafted the air.

Yazia didn't know what to say. Caught in a trance, she stared into his cold eyes for a few moments longer. Maybe saying nothing would be best for her, Draven had always told her that silence was a weapon, but would it do her any good?

After all, Yazia had no real clue about his intentions, or why he had brought her to his work chambers at dark, rather than to let her waltz back home like the rest of the ballroom parade. A sinking feeling weighed out her odds, and she began to feel sick at the thought that maybe she wasn't so sly. That maybe she had been caught red handed.

Maybe Aeneas told him who I really am...

Yazia prepared for the worst. She prepared herself to have him call upon his guardsmen and drag her to his deepest, darkest cell.The kind where even rats were afraid to go, or ivy would cover every crack and crease of the room. The smell of rotting flesh. A cell made to host a killer.

But I'm not a killer. At least, not yet.

Yazia quietly weighed out the possibilities of her being a successful one. Of being able to manage to slip out of Abingor, unseen and bloody blades in hand. Leaving there with one thing on her name--the King of Abingor's head.

"Oh, right." A deep, raucous voice shattered her thoughts, breaking her from the stupor. "Excuse the mess, I've been...cleaning," he said and stepped aside, holding the door ajar.

A sudden rush of tingles swept through her veins when Yazia stepped through the doorway. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping to contain the heat that quickly burned away, replacing the warmth with bitter cold. And then, as though she were not in control of herself, Yazia couldn't stop from shaking. Shaking, like she had been hit by an avalanche.

"Please, take a seat," he said, and closed the door behind them.

Silence came after, for a few moments. Yazia couldn't think straight.  Her teeth chattered together almost relentlessly. Biting cold filled her lungs with every breath of the stale air that filled the room.

What has come over me? Why is it so cold...?

It was difficult to move towards a chair, though not as difficult as it was to breathe. Yazia suddenly felt unwell. It didn't subside when she sat down. She grasped onto her hand with the other tightly, in an effort to suppress the shakes.

"T-Thank you, Your Majesty," Yazia mustered to say.

She'd need to take back control of her voice in order to speak with the King. Yazia didn't want to come across as weak. But the tingles shooting through her body didn't end.

Swallowing, Yazia asked, "Is there a reason this room is so exceptionally cold?"

The King hesitated for a moment. "I don't find anything amiss. Could just be the wind."

"The windows are closed. Though that's not what I suppose I was summoned here for, is it?" she said.

He retreated to his chair and slumped down on it. "Ah, of course. How are you finding your stay here?"

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Yazia said, tilting her chin up, "but I'm not in the business of striking up idle conversations. So, it'd be wise to tell me about your purpose for sending me here."

The King's hands twitched at his sides, and he rested them on the desk. Yazia's sight flickered to the gloves he was wearing, and she didn't miss the fact that those were precisely the ones he'd worn to the ball.

The King cleared his throat. "Apologies. But yes, about that..."

From her many years of observing others, Yazia was all too aware that the King was having a difficult time spitting out whatever it was that he needed to tell her.

What are you hiding?

"Well?" she prompted and stifled a courteous smile.

The King's hand then slowly slid into the folds of his black robe. "Well, what I mean to ask is will you do the honour of joining me at my court, Lady Malya?"

Yazia twitched at the sound of the name, a malicious deception to her enemy. The King assumed he would be inviting just a deferential lady into court, but no.

He had allowed something much more treacherous into his protected palace walls. He was inviting a killer into his home.

Her eyes lifted to meet his dark ones, the blackest of nights pierced through her. She gulped, it did not break the cold sweat she was facing just moments ago, only worsened it.

Suddenly, although she had fought to suppress the uncontrollable shakes, they broke through her walls. It became more difficult to breathe than ever before, Yazia found herself struggling to breathe the air.

Dizziness swam through Yazia's head, the world around her misting until all that she could see was the King's faint silhouette towering over her.

What is wrong with me?

She braced her hand on the desk in a vain attempt to steady herself as she stood up from the chair. But her feet broke cadence.

Yazia's eyes sought for a window, but to no avail the walls melded into one another. Staggering to prop her back against one of them, she willed some composure into herself. Quiet murmurs came from the silhouette nearby, but could not perceive what words were spoken. 

Her heart racketed inside her chest. Shapes, just shapes, took place in front of her. Even though Yazia fought to break the delusion of her sights, she had lost balance and toppled over to the floor.

A large hand found its way to her throat, the silhouette even closer than before.

She forced her eyes closed, mouth agape as if she was trying to scream, but only sick gurgles escaped.

Soon, she stopped fighting; her mind trapped in itself as all that she could do was lay there while memories flashed through her mind. One after the other, they streaked through her.

Then all was silent as Yazia drew her last breath.

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