CHAPTER TWELVE
She could hear the sound of flowing waves and stirring tides, a strong cold wind ceaselessly wiping across her skin, running its cold hands through her hair.
Slowly, Rosia raised open her eyes as the sunlight from the summer sky poured down on her face. She could feel the wetness all over her body.
The world around looked new to her. Gazing all over the place, she realized she had been lying on the ground nearby an ocean. The seemingly endless forest stood behind her.
Near an ocean? She has never dared getting close to the small stream near the palace of Decresh, speaking more of being close to an ocean.
As she imagined the tides dragging her into the ocean, she struggled to lift herself from the ground, but her body felt heavy; her hands and legs ached terribly.
She couldn’t get herself up even after exerting the least amount of strength she managed to still have in her possession.
It seemed as if a heavy mass of weight was in some way underneath her, strongly holding her body down and wouldn’t let her go.
Relentlessly, Rosia still struggled to get herself free until she attained a breakthrough, but then two hands fell off from her sides. Two strong hands looking like those of a man.
Seeing those hands, she forcefully wrenched herself away as panic gripped her.
Stopping a few inches apart, she glared in fright at the masculine figure lying motionless on the ground before her eyes.
Her fear faded away immediately upon recognizing the owner of those strong hands.
How did they end up here? She tried to recall, but her mind was utterly empty, filled with nothing. In no time, memories from earlier sipped back into her mind.
Her marriage today with the king of Sidonnia had been interrupted by the soldiers of Baldamon, who were seriously seeking after her – for reasons she’s still yet to know.
They caused great havoc in the palace, killing the guests, the palace guards, and, painfully, her personal maid. She was able to escape from them—out of the palace through a tunnel.
She had joined a group of the palace guards in migrating away, but on their way through the forest, another group of Baldamon’s soldiers attacked them.
They killed all of the guards, and were almost torturing her to death when the young royalty of Sidonnia came down to save her.
He saved her from the strong hands of death and had single-handedly killed the opposing group until none of them survived.
She was sobbing—feeling safe in his arms when, all of a sudden, someone pushed them off the cliff.
“Does it mean I have been lying on top of his body since then?” She thought to herself, flabbergasted, covering her chest with her hands to keep it from exploding.
To her, it felt awkward at least, but as her gaze fell on his face again, she couldn’t help blushing, her cheeks flushing hot.
Looking at him, she discovered that his eyes were closed together. He seemed to be in a deep sleep and was yet to wake up.
His hair looked damp, loosely spread across the moist ground. His robe appeared to be wet; the ocean tides sluiced over his lower body incessantly, seemingly incapable of dragging his body away.
Quietly, she drew back to where he lay, then sat close to him on the ground.
Bending her eyes over his face, she felt tempted to touch the edge of his nose, which looked sharp and pointed. Her heart was feeling calmer.
Unable to take her eyes off him, she stared at him in awe and bewilderment, wondering silently in her mind if a different god had taken a special time to mold his face so well.
How can one man look so handsome? The exact question she has been asking herself since the very first time she met him, but has yet to find her answer.
His good looks alone are able enough to capture any woman’s heart, drowning her away into the deepest depth of his love.
But then again, she doubted if his good looks were even real.
Perhaps it’s all fake and unreal?
Yes, what if he’s putting on an artificial mask, made by the greatest of artists, in order to deceive her and most other ladies?
If he's truly heartless, wicked, cruel, merciless, hard-hearted, harsh, and evil as people say, why does he look innocent, loving, and flawless?
She has read so many historical books, and in most of them, the villainous rulers are often illustrated… no, often described as having scary-looking, rough and ruthless looks, but he’s quite different from the attributes.
Unbridled curiosity got the best of her and she found herself shifting aside his robe to observe the flesh around his neck – in a bid to see if actually there’s a skin-covering.
She didn’t see anything to ratify her doubts. Her heart stopped being calm as she took notice of something else instead; bruises.
She could see bruises below his neck, a reddish decoration, forming barely visible handprints that looked like those of a sustained fist-punch or perhaps slap, at the sides of his face.
“You Idiot!” She suddenly heard a frightening yell, seemingly coming from somewhere nearby.
Turning her head in the direction of the voice, she beheld the hefty man staggering towards her.
The sight of him hit her mind like that of a heavy rock crashing against a wall. An icy shiver shot through her, freezing her up.
He is still alive? She could vividly remember seeing him get stabbed from behind.
How was he able to survive? She pondered but then realized. The hefty man is typically a strong man, and strong men are not killed easily.
Now, it became clear to her that he was the person who pushed them off the cliff.
She could see the blood all over his body. He’s profusely bleeding out. His gait towards her looked fairly strong and steady.
He seemed to be struggling with the barest strength in him, yet he still looked mean and vicious, scarier than she had earlier seen him.
Rosia's heart began to tremble as her eyes landed on the sword he held irresolutely in his hands, coming towards her with every intent.
Why is he so hell-bent on killing her?
What exactly has she done to him and to the people of his kingdom?
Seeing the young royalty from Sidonnia was still beside her, her mind tinged with relief but the feeling didn’t last for long as her panic increased.
She had noticed he was still unmoving on the ground, appearing to be entrapped in a deeper slumber than she could think of.
“Aha, I told you. I’ll surely deal with you,” said the hefty man, chuckling as he mocked her.
His voice seemed a little low but did harsh things inside her.
Rosia planned on running away from him but couldn’t find her legs again. It suddenly felt as if her legs were both glued to the ground, unable to make any movement.
Before she could muster the courage to do so, the man had already closed the distance separating both of them.
Taking notice of the body lying close to her, his lips curled into a devilish smile.
“What were you thinking?” he asked her, aiming the sword at her, ready to slay her anytime soon.
“You think he is going to save you now?” he asked again, having a visible smug look on his face. He laughed mockingly at her over and over again.
“He is dead.” He quickly broke his laughter to say. “Dead men don’t save people,” he added.
Oh no! He’s not dead! He can’t die. Rosia tried to do away with all the bad thoughts that wanted to make her believe so, yet her mind still got more disturbed with every thought.
“He is not dead,” she muttered out in defense, tears crawling down her face.
“You are crying… after what you have done?” The hefty man snapped, an intense bitterness could be seen sitting in his eyes.
“I am sorry to say this, but I do not know what you have been accusing me of,” Rosia explained sincerely, speaking with every courage.
Some boldness had developed inside of her.
“You don’t know what I am talking about?” The man rephrased. “How dare you!” As he raised his sword to strike her, Rosia was able to flinch from his attack.
Leaping up on her feet, she cupped some moist sand in her hands, then sent it over his face, blinding his eyes for the time being.
And while at it, she quickly rushed at him, extracted the sword out of his hands, then powerfully threw him to the ground, and stabbed him continuously till she was sure of his eventual death.
She wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving him alive.
Since I was born, this is the first time in my life that I have ever taken life out of somebody else. I could have felt at least the mindful guilt but not when he was ready to take my own life.
What exactly was my offense?
What was my crime to the people of Sidonnia?
The man, before his death, had seriously looked bitter. The very kind of bitter expression that must have a deep reason behind it.
Can this really be because I am getting married to the king of Sidonnia? Or because of something else, which is?
Speaking about the young king of Sidonnia. Is he really dead as the man had said? Leaving the hefty man’s body, I went over to him.
I could feel my heartbeat racing into speed right now. What if it’s true?