CHAPTER SEVEN

"Irene. Irene." I called her several times when I got to her, slightly shaking her shoulders, but didn’t get a clear response.

She lay on the floor, deeply groaning over pains under an enfeebled voice, her breath shuddering as if oxygen was hardly getting into her lungs.

And also, she was bleeding badly. The arrow that had hit her earlier, was deep into her stomach, making it hard for her to survive her condition.

Seeing as her life was slowly draining away, I felt my heart clench inside of me, then miserably twisting and shattering into pieces.

"Please don’t do this to me." I let out a loud cry, grabbing her body into my arms, unable to hold back the tears in my eyes.

Why have the world decided to take away the only person that makes living worth enduring? What is life without Irene? What crime has she committed to deserve such a bad fate? I cried, holding her body, utterly heartbroken.

"My Princess," she quietly called me, lifting her chin up to look at my face.

"Yes, yes, Irene," I quickly answered, feeling a pang of relief, my heart leaping with joy.

Irene gazed up at my face so keenly, some kind of extreme passion blazing in her eyes.

"I am so sorry for what happened to you," I said, tears running down my face.

"I understand, my princess," she struggled to say, her voice so feeble, making evident the severe pain she is going through.

"It’s all my fault,"

"You don’t have to blame yourself, my princess,"

"I should’ve saved you,"

"It’s not your fault, my dear," Irene said, drawing a big smile on her face. "Are you able to stop death when it comes?" she asked.

Death. Why’s she talking about death? Is she really not going to survive her situation? My heart fluttered when I saw the certainty on her face.

Oh no! This can’t be happening. She can’t die! I became more devastated and couldn’t get a grip over myself.

Sustaining a stare on her beautiful face, I craved for nothing else but for a miracle to take place - a miracle that would liberate her of those killing pains about to determine her fate.

"I am really sorry," I told her, finding it difficult to overcome the lump of emotion sitting on my chest.

She is all that I have.

"Don’t cry, my princess," Irene spoke, wiping tears off my face with one of her hands.

"Beautiful ones do not cry," she reminded, another big smile on her face.

The passion which I had seen in her both eyes, looked like it deepened. I saw as she struggled to hold back her own emotions but to no avail as a drop of tears went down her face.

She wiped it off of her face immediately.

And yes! Beautiful ones do not cry. That’s the exact words she says to me whenever I am feeling hurt, depressed, or unhappy.

"Remember, the beautiful ones don’t shed tears," she reminded again, smiling again as if all was well for her.

"Yes, right?" I said. We laughed a little, although tears had entirely soaked our voices.

Even in her worst situations, all she has done is comfort me. Knowing and realizing this, I instantly swore to carry out my revenge on whomsoever put her into this miserable condition.

Taking out a piece of paper from her dress’s pocket, she said, "Take this," collecting my hand in hers.

She placed the piece of paper on my palm.

"I believe this should be enough information for you," she suggested.

What information? I gave the paper a quick glimpse which I took away when I began to see the way her breath was going faster than normal.

"My time is up," she muttered, struggling so much to keep her breath steady.

"No, Irene. Don’t leave me yet. " I pled, frightened.

"You have to go, my princess," she fought again to say. "It’s no longer safe. They are coming for you."

"No, stay with me,"

"Go… go… the" She fought to say something again but was unable to. Lifting up a finger, she pointed comprehending.

Just then, her hand fell back immediately.

Her eyes looked like they had roved into her head, her body suddenly cold, calmed and no longer making any movement at all.

Dear Lord! My heart bled when I saw her breathing had also stopped.

"Irene." I called, shaking her body, but this time I totally didn’t get a response.

Does it mean she’s dead? I didn’t want to believe it yet, praying with my thoughts that it wasn’t what it seemed like.

Taking one of her hands, and pressing my fingers into her wrist, I discovered her pulse was almost not responding.

"She is dead, your highness," someone spoke, towering behind me. I looked back to see who it was. It was General Rometrius.

He was looking down on me, his face full of pity.

Does it mean… Oh, I am finished! I wanted to cry, but all of a sudden, could not. It felt as if tears had dried out of my eyes. It felt as if a storm had caused my heart to stop beating.

And as if I was empty, yet to recover from this sad reality that I pray will only be a mere dream.

"No, she is not dead." I muttered, my lips suddenly heavy as my entire body went frozen.

As if our glances met, when I looked up, I found my father also looking my way. His face was devoid of any emotions except for anger of some sort.

Looking around the hall further, I found some of the guests staring at the lifeless Irene in my arms, looking more terrified than before.

Excuse me! Did I just call Irene lifeless? Lifeless, as in dead? That’s the biggest lie I can tell myself right now. Although her body might be unmoving, yet something deep inside of me still makes me believe that she’s still alive.

Yes, alive and not dead as it seems like.

The guests turned away from my way, glaring their cold eyes at the windows, expecting death as they were earlier.

As I’ve come to learn, when death is anticipated, it doesn’t come at that very moment unless for the time that you do not expect.

But today, the reverse was the case as myriads of arrows began to force themselves into the hall, wrecking those windows into pieces and erupting another episode of havoc.

…

Looking down at the bodies of the guards - slaughtered in the twinkling of a second-lying dead on the ground, across the forest paths, the young man on his way to Decresh felt a tight grip on his heart.

He didn’t struggle to fight the armed men who had stopped their journey, because he knew how pointless it was if he tried.

He was roped against a tree. Kleo, his right-hand man, was roped against another.

He came to realize they were the target.

"Here they are." A cruel looking man, emitting the aura of a commander, mocked, emanating towards them on a horse.

He halted his horse before them, then watched them closely. There was an expression of surprise and awe on his face, which was barely visible because of his tough face.

"So, you are the young king that wants to marry that callous daughter of King Herbert of Decresh kingdom?" he asked the young man, cruel-mirth apparent in his voice.

Now, his men laughed hysterically.

"He doesn’t even deserve to be a king,"

"His guards are not even as strong as people often say,"

"His wife must be so unlucky to have such a weakling as a husband,"

They continued to mock, while the young man remained silent, going over his thoughts as he looked around the bush for a way to save himself and his aide.

"He doesn’t speak anymore," said their commander, offsetting another laughter.

"Please let us go," Kleo pleaded, his voice shaking.

"Let you go?" the commander asked, then came down from his horse.

"I know you want money from us. Let us go and we’ll pay you a huge amount." Kleo said this without giving it much thought.

The commander walked up to him, then gripped his neck. "Do you think we’re here for your stupid money?" he asked sternly, choking his breath.

"If you’re not here for our money, as you say, please let us go. Please," Kleo continued to plead, muttering his words gradually as he coughed intermidently.

"And if I don’t?" the commander asked, tightening his grip.

Seeing his friend under torture, the young man felt his blood boil against his skin as anger went through him.

"Because you don’t know when death is about to hit you," he yelled, clenching his toes as he was unable to move a step away.

His statement provoked tension as the thug made moves to react badly to him.

"No don’t. Stay back." the commander warned them.

They all obeyed him.

He released his grip from Kleo’s neck and walked up and stood before the young man.

"What if I don’t let you go?" he repeated his question, fusing a friendly smile.

"Then you’ll have to face me?" the young man roared at his face, pouring a vicious glare at him that almost scared the life out of him.

The commander has heard so many stories about the king of Sidonnia being evil, heartless, ready to kill and slaughter, and could fight a thousand on his own.

Earlier on, he was surprised to see that his men were able to capture and seize him and his aid against a tree.

He never even thought it would be possible to happen as their attack was initially planned with so much fear.

He bit his lip and refused to be intimidated. "I am going to deal with you," he said, then slapped him hard across his face.

The sound of the slap thundered around the bush, triggering his men to laugh hysterically again.

"No, please don’t harm the prince." Kleo sang out.

"The prince?" he asked, wide-eyed.