Calamity Control

Slow steps. I take slow steps, slower than Alloy's, as I make my way to the dining room. There's a constant threat bubbling up my stomach—nausea waits at my front door, my breakfast and lunch longing to rush out.

But I can't. Because Cyrus requested my presence, as well as my husband's. For once, I'm praying Valerius is out of town, in one of those saloons he adores so much.

My dress is a light periwinkle, more fitting for a girl like Aurelia who's brimming with sweetness and naivety. Not for somebody like me who's constantly on her toes, looking to play a game of chess on a checkers board.

But then again, after what I witnessed in the dungeon, it'd be fair to conclude that I'm more ignorant than I thought.

Thugs, dungeons, inhumane torture methods. A lot of horrors in this world remain undiscovered and I'm no connoisseur, most of them can shake me. One horror, perhaps the worst of all, I'm married to.

My heartbeat hasn't restored to its previous pace since the moment Valerius smacked the small man. Those screams—pleading for someone, anyone's help—haunt my every waking thought.

What did the prince do to him after I left? The thought makes me nauseous. I can barely walk without stumbling.

"My lady." Aurelia mumbles beside me. "Are you alright?"

Alloy echoes the sentiment. The cat meows, concerned. "Don't torture yourself with those type of thoughts."

We're already in front of the dining room door. I hadn't even noticed.

"I am. I'm alright." I answer in haste. My hand is trembling when I touch the handle, my knees week. There's a moment when I think I'm about to collapse.

Before I can push the door open, a hand lands on my shoulder, gripping it firmly. That's not Aurelia, it could be Florian, but the pure malice the presence is emitting leads me to believe otherwise.

"Princess," The person I'm least looking forward to whispers into my ear. Chills travel down my spine—a reflex. "Do you remember our deal?"

Of course. There's not a moment I'm allowed to forget that I'm bound to the devil himself.

Ironic how he's asked for nothing yet and I'm already lamenting it.

I resist the urge to slap Valerius' hand away, "How could I forget?"

Fortunately, he removes it from my shoulder without having to be told.

The ghastly prince hums in thought, stepping into the space to my right. He stares at the dining room door as if to mock my bumbling thoughts.

Aurelia looks concerned, a deep frown tainting her soft face. It's uncharacteristic of the blonde, which goes to show how uncomfortable the moment is.

Valerius doesn't seem to care. He orders her to leave. Left without a choice, she does.

I exhale. The sound overwhelms the room. There are no other noises.

"There's a vial inside the bedroom. Green and sharp." The prince explains, voice low. "Retrieve it, convince my brother to waste in wine, and sneak it into his drink when his guard is down."

Alloy stays silent, observing the situation unfold.

Perhaps the feline is saying something? Regardless, I wouldn't be able to hear him from the thoughts rushing through my head.

What does Valerius intend to do with Prince Cyrus? Is he planning to sabotage him? Assassinate him? To achive what exactly? Control over the kingdom? Revenge?

There are a plethora of possibilities. More questions than answers. In the first place, I doubt I'd be able to achive what Valerius is asking of me.

Cyrus has near unbreakable barriers. He wears his manners like armor. His self-control is his mightiest weapon. But I'm left without a choice, bound by a promise sealed by blood.

I don't say a word. Like an obedient servant, I step away from the door.

There's a moment of hesitation. Defiance sits heavy on my tongue. But then I see the way Valerius eyes me from the side and I realize—he's threatening me.

I've entered this transactional relationship out of my own free will. To withdraw now is to submit to deathly consequences.

"Are you going to do it?" He asks.

"Yes." I answer.

Fear is what drives me forward, it's what pushes me to ignore Alloy's advices and search our shared bedroom, top to bottom, for a vial, green and sharp.

Once I find it, I rush back to the dining room. Nervously, I hide the object in between my bosoms, hoping it won't fall and roll away.

That would, in all honesty, be embarrassing.

When I enter the room, Valerius is already fidgeting, auburn hair slicked back and face resting on his calloused palm. He's smirking because of course he is, he knows he's playing me like a ventriloquist.

Instead of irritating, the grin manages to unsettle me to my core. It feels as if I've taken a dip into the madness brewing inside the prince's head, and what I'd witnessed was barely a preview.

He's insane, truly and irrevocably. I'm convinced. I need to kill him. It has to be done. For now, I need to obey.

Alloy, distressed, begins meowing for my attention. Whatever he's trying to mumble into my head, I tune out.

Too much is happening at once. There're too many chess pieces within the room, waiting to topple my queen.

Cyrus raises his brow in fascination of the feline. It's unwelcome in the dining room, I'm sure, but I make no effort to remove Alloy when his presence has been a consistent comfort, my sensibility in times of chaos.

The blue rose stands and welcomes me, "Princess Penelope."

Out of courtesy, I bow. My shoulders ache from the weight of what I'd witnessed mere hours ago. "Prince Cyrus,"

He smiles, practiced. The prince is chipper as ever, composed when the rest of the world is falling apart. It's an impressive ability.

He won't be smiling for long if I manage to pull off what Valerius asks of me.

Florian, to his right, exchanges pleasantries. He's a lot less charming, a lot less smooth, but it's inauthentic, still. It's clear he doesn't want to be here.

There's someone else I'm forced to acknowledge.

"Husband. It's a pleasure seeing your lovely face."

Hostility wafts in the air like an open secret.

"Not as pleasurable as it is seeing you, wife." Valerius responds, smug as ever.

This is going to be one hell of an evening.