A Malice Heart

The next step of their day was to sit at the ballroom where the people of Malices court dallied. He was forced to sit throughout the celebration for at least an hour, at least now he had a pet to keep him companied. None would dare get near Drew, that much he knew, but the word of a mistress at the king’s court would easily spread. He was ready to shoot whoever started the gossip first.

As he entered, everyone bowed low to him. The sight was like a flood of pleasure, watching so many people with high-ranked statues yield all to him. The feeling never got old. As soon as Drew stepped in, the nobles started looking at one another, but no one dared speak in the sudden silence that fell.

“Allow me to introduce Drew, the newest member of my court,” he spoke loud enough for all to hear, making eye contact with each and every one of them to make sure they understood his true words. Mess with her, and risk your entire lineage.

The nobles kept their heads bowed for a few more seconds before shuffling with one another and continued their day, barely any of them daring to look at the king as he slumped onto his throne, no crown shown today. An extra chair had already been brought for Drew, one that looked like a miniature version of a throne. She sat down on it as if it were simply a plastic dining chair and looked outwards towards the crowd, “So this is what rich people do all day. Run around and gossip with one another until their ears fall out.”

Malice nodded, placing his chin on the palm of his hand, angling his head towards the assassin. “All they hope to gain is their king’s praise as he watches them. Day after day, the same people walk in and out. The females attempt to seduce, the males attempt to captivate. It’s the same shit.”

As if knowing that the two were talking about them, some of the ladies started looking outwards towards the king, waving slightly. Malice did nothing in return.

“If we’re already here, then let’s gossip, Your Grace,” said Drew tentatively, looking outwards and spotting a brunette wearing a blood-red dress, “that lady over there, for example. What tea are you spilling on her?”

Malice turned to her at the metaphor which connected to their earlier breakfast but said with a sigh, “Lady Lucia married three times, divorcing each one after a few years of marriage.”

Drew’s eyes widened. “Impossible. She looks at least twenty-three.”

“If you haven’t noticed by the way she dresses, the girl is a gold digger. Has been one for quite some time. That is why I try not to give her too much attention. Every time she divorced, it was because her husband had run out of money. Notice how she is only accepting to speak with the golden teethed nobles, no matter their age.”

The two eyed the brunette as she laughed at the joke a noble made. He looked to be in his late forties, white hairs already sprouting from his head. “And none of the nobles know this?”

“Whether they know or not, it doesn’t matter. What every man here wants is a wife who could look pretty and produce his heirs, nothing more.”

Drew scrunched up her face at the disgusting rule they all went by. Malice would have done the same if it had been his first time hearing this, but given that he was raised by these same nobles and by these rules, it was only normal and even encouraged across his ranks.

Find yourself a pretty queen that can produce heirs for you. That is all that is needed from you. Those same words are the ones any prince was raised by at some point in their lives because to the higher-ups, nothing was more important.

“Moving on,” Drew cleared her throat, searching the crowd and slightly pointing at a young boy with blond hair, “tell me about him. He looks handsome enough.”

“Sir Rupert served in the military for seven years, he is currently twenty-nine years old, however, he isn’t as sweet and innocent as he seems,” Malice grinned at the memory, “I might have walked in on him having an affair in one of the ballrooms while he thought no one was there. The man is married and has two children. I’ve used this knowledge against him for quite some time.”

“For what?”

“He has a close connection with those in charge of trading routes from different kingdoms. With Sir Rupert’s help, I get only the finest of equipment from our neighbors.”

Drew grinned, watching the noble prance around the room with that cheerful smile, but once in a while, he’d shift his gaze to the king, swallow in fear, and then continue as if nothing happened.

Time seemed to pass quickly as they spoke of each and every noble, Drew seeing if she could find one person whom the king had nothing to speak about.

“How is it that you know so much about everyone?”

“For the cases in which I’m not physically involved, well, let’s just say that the maids talk a lot. The rest is history.”

Drew frowned, standing up from her spot and cleaning the back of her gown as if she just sat in mud. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Without another word, she walked down the stairs from the altar and mixed in with the nobles, yet Malice didn’t dare keep his eyes away from her, making sure none of the nobles thought that this was their chance to pounce.

The crowd shifted as soon as Drew walked into it, the ladies fanning themselves and speaking with one another, probably talking about the assassin’s looks. They exchanged glances, looked up to the king, noticed him sneering down at them, and immediately changed the subject.

Drew, on the other hand, only grabbed a single cup of water and made her way back up towards the altar, using her free hand to pick up the dress slightly so she doesn’t trip over herself.

As she sat down, the assassin took a few giant sips of her water and wiped her mouth with her hand once again, completely forgetting the previous incident.

“Damn my life,” she murmured at the lipstick on her hand, “I doubt there’s anything left on my face at this point.”

Malice already had his handkerchief out for her, looking down at her lips, “You look fine. Clean up quickly.”

He threw the cloth to her and went back to watching the crowd in silence.

After a few nobles walked up and spoke with the king or introduced him to their newest family members, Drew seemed to have grown immensely bored. She had her chin propped on a fist while her other hand tapped on the armrest.

“I have a proposition,” she finally spoke, looking sideways at the king. “How about a sword duel. You and me. Just to see who’s really the better one with a blade.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, darling. You sound way too innocent to simply want a duel,” he leaned towards her, “planning on attempting murder on your king again?”

Drew only leaned towards the king, accepting the challenge for power. “A girl could only dream, Your Highness.”

“Then I accept,” Malice stood upwards, the crowd’s attention immediately turned to him. “I will be taking an early leave. Carry on.”

The crowd bowed as Malice walked down the aisle and Drew followed, her eyes fixated on the king’s back. Whether this duel they were about to have was truly an assassination attempt or not, Malice didn’t know. Drew’s sarcasm is a part of her own personality, and the king was willing to pay anything just so he could tell them apart.

The assassin walked quietly behind him, her dress swishing with every step. As he turned for just a moment, he found her already staring at him, her eyes holding a wicked glint in them as if to say ‘I’m about to beat your ass, princeling’.

Malice returned the look, now tempted to prove it as well. He hadn’t dueled with anyone in a long while given that everyone was too scared of their king, which came as a benefit and a disadvantage. He’d been training by himself for as long as he could remember, following the same exercises that he’d been taught since he was young. Once his trainer confirmed Malice’s improvement and that he could handle the rest by himself, the king paid him well and sent him off.

The two reached an empty training room, a private room for Malice. He didn’t like the idea of using the same equipment that many others had used before him. It made him feel low in rank and also grossed him out.

Drew looked down at her dress which, to her concern, wasn’t the most comfortable thing to duel in. Instead of asking if she could change into something more fitting, the assassin simply loosened the corset that held the two fabrics together and altogether took it off, leaving the long shirt on and a small underskirt. Both were completely white and even a bit transparent, but none of that seemed to matter to her.

As she turned to Malice, loosening her shirt a little more so she could move more freely, his expression hadn’t changed. All that mattered to him at the moment was to win this dispute between them. There is no way that a simple street girl could win him in a duel.

He didn’t hesitate to hand her a sword, one that twined his own, and said quickly while inspecting his blade, “You know how to use a sword properly, correct?”

Drew raised her brow and threw it upwards, allowing it to spin quickly before smoothly catching it with her second hand, answering his question. Malice hadn’t had a chance to learn any sword tricks given that none of them aided him in any way. When he used his sword, it was only to either train or kill. Nothing else.

Those that stared at him with their longing eyes, praying to all the gods in hope for a bit of mercy or a second chance don’t need any tricks to be shown to them. All they saw before their heads were cut off was the quick blade cutting through the air and their king’s ruthless gaze.

Malice threw his cloak aside from them and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing his muscled forearms. Drew ended up doing the same, and to his surprise, her arms weren’t as thin and fragile as he had remembered them to be when he saw her in her cell. “Have you been working out in secret?”

The assassin shrugged, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Perhaps. Being a weakling isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

“Neither is training,” Malice got into formation, not daring to take his gaze off of his opponent. “You’re stuck with me for the rest of your miserable life, remember?”

“We’ll be seeing about that, Princeling,” Drew struck first, aiming for the king’s ribs. Malice blocked her attack off with his blade and twisted it upwards to the point of her blade being now pointed at his face. She attempted to push forward and nag at his nose, but the king was physically stronger and was able to block her attempted hit but pushed with his own force. This caused them to be almost face to face, neither willing to give in.

“Are you going to kiss me again? As a distraction?” Malice mocked. The question seemed to piss off the assassin given that she picked up her foot and hit his stomach, pushing them away from one another. Miraculously, she was able to keep her balance after such a blow.

“If you bring that up one more time, I swear I’ll find a way to carve up your innards,” she spat, going in for another strike.

Malice smirked, still feeling a hint of pain in his lower stomach from that hit as he raised his sword once again and blocked her blow. They went on like this for what felt like hours, each one taking their own chance to strike but only to get blocked by their opponent. Neither was willing to back away from any challenge.

Drew sure had stamina inside of her, with every blow he saw sheer power and urge. Her stances weren’t exactly accurate and she had a hard time keeping balance, but the assassin held well against him. He had no clue where she learned these moves or how, given that she was nothing but a peasant who was raised by no one, but he guessed that years of having to defend herself had taught her things here and there.

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of their gasps and metal clinking on metal. Again and again, their swords met, rubbing on one another before pulling away.

A thin layer of sweat had already begun to show on both of them, given their informal clothing for the event. Winning off the lady wasn’t as easy as Malice had hoped it’d be, and that only made this duel more enticing. He took in a breath before attacking her once again, this time not holding back.

He finally managed to catch her off guard and slid his sword upwards, millimeters away from slicing her throat. However, as he turned to see where her sword was, the king was surprised to find it pointed straight at his heart, and given that he wasn’t wearing a breastplate at the moment, the sword could very much pierce him through if the girl before him wished.

The two breathed heavily, staring into one another’s eyes with no words being traded. They had started this to prove who was the better swordsman, yet here they were at what seemed to be a tie. One move from Drew, and Malice will not hesitate to act. It seems that that will work the other way around as well.

At last, the assassin slowly lowered the sword, not taking her gaze off the king to make sure he didn’t make a cowardly move. Malice only did the same and sheathed his sword back onto his waist. “That was entertaining.”

Drew hummed her response and placed her sword on a nearby bench before picking up the corset she ripped off earlier and frowning upon it, “Do I really have to put this back on?”

Malice nodded and retrieved his own forgotten cloak. When he looked back at the assassin, he noticed her struggling with the laces on the back, her face frowning and filled with… disappointment?

He strode to her side, hands outstretched, “Here, allow me.”

Unlike previous times where Malice insisted on aiding her, Drew didn’t protest. She simply stood there, eyes blank, as the king intertwined his fingers in the laces and began pulling them one by one.

“I can’t tell if this is another one of your acts, or if you’re genuinely disappointed,” he spoke from behind her, reaching the final step.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” she inhaled deeply at the tight tug and turned her head back to him in warning. “Careful.”

As he tied the ends with one another, Malice patted her shoulder once and they both headed outside of the room, however, he didn’t hear the sound of her shoes from behind. With sudden realization, Malice brought out his sword and turned around only to be met with Drew’s own blade at hand. Right now the only thing keeping Malice from having his head completely cut off was the weapon he had at hand.

“Damn you,” she cried in anger, attempting to push the sword even further down, but failing. The king picked up his foot and kicked her lower abdomen, causing her to fall backwards and let go of her weapon in frustration. This time Malice picked it up and held it close to him and as far away as possible from the woman before him.

There was no expression on his face, no emotion that showed what exactly he was thinking as he looked down at her.

“You’re very energetic, darling. Mind explaining to me why you believe that you will one day slay the king?” he sneered, pointing his sword outwards towards her chin. He lifted it up a bit from the ground, watching loose hairs from Drew’s bun slide onto her face from all the movements she’s done.

“Because I only have one goal in life, and it is to kill you and bring this kingdom out of the misery you’ve put it in,” she snarled back, removing her chin from the blade. “And I don’t give one shit whether I’ll make it out alive or dead.”

“You are willing to risk so much for people that don’t even care about you,” Malice muttered, lowering his sword. “Incredible.”

“I’m fed up with watching this kingdom crumble under your rule,” she stood up, pushing back a strand of her hair. “I’m guessing you’ve never even been outside of those stupid palace walls before, have you? You’re all cooped up in your wealth and act as if your life is a living nightmare.”

Malice still didn’t show any expression, everything had ceased to affect him since his incident with that blond. The one that tried but couldn’t change him, so she gave up and moved on to someone else.

His silence seemed to be a good enough answer for her as the assassin placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room as if the objects around her could give her an idea of how to handle this situation. Malice did nothing but look at her, the way her eyes strategized and thought up a plan. How she easily changed from pure rage to a wise lady.

Her eyes suddenly lit up with an idea but stayed hollow. It seems that this was an idea that she didn’t quite like.

“I have another proposition to make, Your Highness. A deal,” she said slowly. She took in a deep breath and looked up at him, making sure to grasp any form of reaction that might be shown on his face. “Come with me to the village just outside your wall. We’ll spend only one night there just so I could show you your kingdom from the people’s eyes.”

Malice didn’t even take time to think of an answer as he turned around and marched out of the room. “Absolutely not.”

“Wait,” Drew ran up to him, grabbing his arm from the back, just like she did back then. “You didn’t hear the rest of it. In return, I will stop attempting to assassinate you. I swear.”

Malice still didn’t turn around, but he stayed where he stood, her hand still holding him back. He hadn’t been to that damned village since he was a child. All he remembered were the tall buildings and the sound of busy streets. His parents ruled it beautifully back then, but Malice saw that as a weakness. With the amount of effort they placed on their people, their own lives were being ruined. He didn’t understand why they were willing to risk so much just to see complete strangers happy.

Malice saw no point in it and refused to ever speak with the peasants, but as he turned around to look at the red-head with her beseeching eyes staring right at him, daring him to turn down this offer, he stopped thinking for a moment. Just a moment to get to feel like a human being and not like a monster.

With a deep exhale, he pulled his hand out of her grip and muttered. “One night.”

He didn’t turn to see the look on her face as he walked out of the room, unable to gather his thoughts together. What was he getting himself into?