A Malice Heart

All of a sudden, time was going by fast. Day after day, everything mushed together and nothing felt the same ever since Malice had his heart-to-heart talk with Drew. On that night, they had stayed up late talking about whatever came to mind.

He had to admit that by that same morning, his jaw had started to hurt from all the speaking because Drew wouldn’t stop asking him all of her questions. At some point, he realized that she was purposely doing this so he could do all the talking for once, and the king had no intention of declining that offer.

Once the sun had risen, he found her once again cradling herself in his arms, and when the assassin woke, there was no disgust on her face and no anger in her eyes. Just a small, tired grin before she let out a giant yawn. Also, not to forget the puddle of drool that had formed on his pillowcase.

Now, Drew decided to place herself in charge of creating all kinds of activities for the two of them just so Malice could get out of his strict schedule.

“That’s not happening,” Malice argued as she told him her plans. “I’ve got too much work.”

“What if all you were missing this whole time was pure happiness? Something to look forward to during the day?” There was intense desperation in her voice as she spoke, something he hadn’t heard in some time. Drew was acting severely strange today. “Please, allow me to prove that you can become better.”

Malice raised an eyebrow at that but rolled his eyes and gave a slight nod, “Fine, do as you please.”

Smiling, Drew walked off, proudly displaying the dagger sheathed at her thigh. She hadn’t taken it out of its sheath once since receiving it and, from the way things looked, she didn’t plan much on it.

Malice frowned at that before walking off towards his own destination.

Again the day felt hazy, the hallways he walked in started to move with him, the walls and windows twisting and turning. Malice’s head spun as he began to lose control of his footing and leaned onto the wall with his right hand holding him upright.

His breathing became heavier as if he had just run a long distance.

What is wrong with me?

This kind of feeling has been hitting him too many times lately. At the slightest thought of the future, of what awaited him, he felt sick to his stomach.

He had no clue what it was, what it could mean. Something was wrong.