Chapter 14: Chapter 14
By the time that Shia had finished her bath and walked back into the bedroom in a fresh set of warm and clean clothes, his majesty – Langrion – had already been sound asleep at his side of the mattress.
This made Shia heave a sigh of relief. Although the prince already mentioned that he did not mean to use the words ‘sleeping together’ in a shameless manner, it might all be empty words as far as Shia was concerned. On top of him being a prince and probably getting all that he had ever desired in the world, Shia must admit that his face and his body are quite tempting to look at. Therefore, it won’t be surprising if he had always his way around several women at this age already. Who knows, right? Royalty or not - holding a man’s hand in the night might lead to one thing or another if Shia isn’t cautious enough. With this thought in mind, Shia placed her prized dagger underneath her pillow where she could easily reach for it and forced herself to get some sleep.
Sleep crawled in rather quickly for Shia despite her uneasiness of the situation. Soon, she found herself in dreamland, reliving the time when her family perished in the sand storm.
This time though, something was different. Shia was more vividly aware that it was all just a dream. Instead of painstakingly looking at the faces of her mother, father, and siblings becoming one with the wind, she forced herself to look at the person responsible for their deaths.
In this dream, she saw the killer coming in a more distinct manner towards them. At first, it was just a blurry outline of a person. Then, the form became as clear as daylight. It was a man that matches his highness’ built and height. He was garbed in an all-black garment from his cape down to his boots. His chest, arms, and shins were covered with a thin film of dark armour. His face was exposed revealing the heavy red glow emanating from his left eye that was covered in a half metallic mask.
As he began to come closer and closer towards them, Shia felt her stomach contort from a revolting stench. She felt so dizzy and nauseous that she had to throw up just as she did before in her other nightmares and in real life. After relieving the contents of her stomach, Shia looked back at the approaching entity. She saw quite clearly some form of faint purplish light instead of a red glow coming from his visage and eventually from his masked eye. The light became darker and darker as he approached, enveloping the murderer’s body even further. It’s as if he was actually one with the dark violet and seemingly evil aura that surrounded him. This fact chilled Shia’s heart so badly, she wanted to scream in terror.
The winds shook the approaching killer’s form and the cloak he was wearing violently as he walked closer and closer towards them. As the winds hovered even more rapidly, the cloth surrounding his neck fluttered openly against the wind. It was but a very brief moment, but Shia was able to make out a clear inked figure of a bird – possibly a heron in flight - seemingly etched at the right part of his neck.
At that moment, Shia began to wake up. She was shaken with fright, but soon she realized that she was in no immediate danger. She was still safely back beside the Imperial Prince in a makeshift bed inside his tent.
Shia looked over at the man sleeping soundly beside her. He was already wearing a set of satin robes that covered his body warmly. His hands were extended towards the pillow that separated the two of them. She clasped one of these hands lightly for a moment. It was a little cold to her touch. She somehow wanted him to stir and possibly chat a little with him. To Shia’s slight dismay however, he did not stir at all and continued his deep slumber.
Shia eyed the prince’s neck that was snugly covered by the satin collar of his sleep wear. As if seemingly possessed, she reached out to him wanting to pry open his clothes. Even for just a moment, she wanted to take a peek at the right side of his neck. Suddenly though, the prince stirred quietly in his sleep. Shia’s hand froze midway. His highness half-opened his eyes, but eventually went back to sleep.
In that instant, Shia was so enamoured in hatred, she contemplated on inflicting pain upon him as he slept. She thought of how foolishly trusting such a murderer could be of her – someone who had openly accused him of killing her family. However, he looked so innocent and child-like as he slept that harming him at that very moment, despite what he may or have already done, felt like a great sin.
In an attempt to fight her deepest desires to act upon her rage, Shia quietly stood up from her side of the bed and resolved to take a quick walk outside
She quietly swished away the opening flap of the tent and proceeded to walk listlessly in a sluggish manner. She was greeted by the cold night air and the smell of the forest. It was far too early for dawn, and she could faintly see some guards posted on different stations outside various tents around the camp. They did not seem to hear or see her though; she did have a pair of quiet feet, and most of them slumbered heartily and looked so much immersed into the land of dreams.
Shia used this opportunity to think back on her dream and to make a mental note of what she saw in there. From what she had just witnessed, she is more positive than ever that the prince was the one who killed her family three months prior. There were a few key details that were puzzling though, and she could not reconcile them in her head.
First, she observed the lack of revolting stench and purplish glow from the prince’s body. She had never felt anything akin to those from him from the moment he had met him until today. Shia surmised that if she were to meet the actual killer, she would be able to observe these things again. Surely, the stench and glow must be part of the distinctive aspects of his curse. As she had known from her own experience, markers of strong curses are hard to cover up, and in this case, a heavy and repulsive aura like that would have been too hard to miss.
Next, she remembered the tattooed image of a bird in flight etched at the right side of the killer’s neck. As far as Shia was concerned, the prince did not have any such markings on his body. It would have been hard to miss it, especially since she had seen all there was to see of his majesty’s body while she nursed him inside the cave.
Shia scratched her head in exasperation. The more she thought about these details, the more unsure she becomes of the prince’s and the killer’s identity. Did she just imagine those details in her head? Were they all lies? Is she turning insane by obsessing over what happened to her family? She began to bite her nails absentmindedly as she entertained these thoughts from within her.
While she continued her aimless wandering around the campsite, her nostrils were suddenly filled with the glorious smell of baked good. For a moment, she forgot the ruminations inside her mind. Shia realized that she must be walking near the cooking area by now, and despite herself, she began following the delightful smell of sweet apples and cinnamon.
Sure enough, she found the open hearth where the glorious smell is originating from. Somebody, perhaps a kitchen cook or servant, was alone in the improvised kitchen. The servant was busy kneading pastries and sprinkling flour in a makeshift table consisting of a large slab of stone. As Shia got closer, she realized it was the young servant girl, Marmie, from the night before.
Marmie was concentrating so much on what she’s baking that she did not realize Shia was there. The sight brought a smile to Shia’s face. She remembered how her brother Ran liked eating desserts and pastries. He would often ask for the last bite from Shia’s cookies. He would then grin sheepishly on her with so much cookie crumbs in his mouth that it made everyone in the family burst into laughter.
Now, these were all in the past, Shia thought bitterly. She continued to look at Marmie’s figure near the hearth, and thought how more wonderful of a chef she could become in the future given her present talents.
As Marmie began to knead the dough one more time, Shia saw something very surprising that she had almost gasped. Without warning, the baking pans and rolling pin at Marmie’s far side began to levitate in the air, slowly at first, then higher up until it settled in front of her.
The servant girl did not seem to notice that at all. Shia began to wonder if she herself had unconsciously triggered a vine or two to make all of that happen.
As she continued to watch in awe and wonder, however, the rolling pin began to move by itself again. It started kneading the dough beside the girl while Marmie moved on into kneading another set of dough by hand.
This time, Shia was positive that the baking articles rose up in the air and kneaded the dough by itself. If that was the case, there could only be one, sane explanation...
As Shia was about to come out of the bushes to talk to the servant girl, she heard a rough, booming voice speak from the opposite end of the bushes.
“You witch,” declared the voice, “You filthy, sneaky cursed one!”
Shia stood in horror to see the rough visage of Lord Bragford Fincher emerge from behind the undergrowth with his sword high up in the air, about to strike the servant girl that was utterly caught in surprise.