The next morning I am sent to scrub every bathroom in the house, which is still in counting at six and a half. Daina supervises me throughout the day, I can feel her deadly glares on the back of my neck while I clean, spray and scrub the life out of the already clean tiles. She does nothing, says nothing, as if me handling her chores is payback enough.
"Scrub harder." She finally says, and I grit my teeth to bite back a harsh retort. I need to remember she is not the General and that I may need allies in his house in order to achieve my mission. So I do as she says, and I could almost see my anger in the reflection of the tiles. "Why are you here?" She asks quietly.
"I was sent on a mission, and I failed."
"No, I know that part. Why are you really here? Why hasn't he killed you already." Her voice is like poison, a trap for a house mouse that has invaded her personal life. I stop scrubbing, pulling the mask below my chin and brush the fallen hair from my face.
"You address the General as he?" I cock an eyebrow, a curiously smug look probably gleaming in my eyes. She bristles, her hand fiddling with her apron tied around her chubby waist. I smile, a hopefully friendly smile, and resume the scrubbing albeit halfheartedly. "I do not understand his true motive for keeping me alive. All I know is he wants answers I have and he will keep me alive until convinced otherwise. Happy?" I spare another glance. She grits her teeth, a huff leaving her flattened pink lips.
"To think I was knocked out by someone as unworthy as you."
"I won't say I'm that unworthy. If anything you have my respect for being out alone, so late at night, collecting sleeping flowers. Does the poor baby General have nightmares?"
"I still don't understand why he wouldn't just throw you in UnderLand and be done with it."
I rock back on my heels, thinking. "You have a point. Why, do you think I should suffer as the others have? You don't have to be afraid of me when this guy has a sword pointed at my back all day."
"If I were you I would be careful how you speak of his honor." Rider steps into the doorframe, a hand fiddling with his hilt and a grim line forms on his pale skin as usual. "You'd be better off having your tongue cut out."
"I'd very much prefer my tongue attached to my body, thank you very much."
Something about the way Rider stares at me tells me this is no joking matter. I need to protect myself, even if I am a prisoner that cannot be touched. I need my dagger, I need to fill that gaping void the absence of my weapons have created.
"I'll see to it from here, the both of you." His voice halts my scrubbing, my heart skipping a beat. This may just be the perfect timing; where is he hiding my daggers? On his person? In his room? I am slowly gathering the way he thinks, the way he analyzes. I have too little information on it ever since I discovered the grand room I broke into on my first day was a decoy, and not his actual bedroom.
I have not yet seen the General's bedroom. Daina won't allow me anywhere near the west wing of the mansion so my first guess is it might be there. But with Rider tailing me from the moment I wake up till the moment I sleep, it is hard to go off on an adventure in this Godforsaken house.
Daina and Rider bow their heads once in greeting before shuffling away. I do not miss the detestable glower they shoot my way.
"So you are useful for something else besides scheming my death." He leans on the doorway, his stature barely fitting within the frame itself. He is dressed with only his red breastplate and a sword, his deep red mask swinging from his lithe fingers.
"If I need to remind you, I've stopped scheming the moment I got caught. You needn't fear me." I smirk, and he actually smiles.
"Who said I did?"
My smirk drops instantly, irritation flaring in my veins. "Do you need something? I'm a bit busy." I spit, nodding at the shiny spot I've been scrubbing for the last hour. It's not like this house isn't already spotless. They just want to torture me with meaningless chores at this point. I'd rather go back to my cell.
"Busy cleaning floors, yes I can see that. The cleaning dress suits you." I roll my eyes and mutter a few curses to him that he does not miss, with his hound ears and all. "Although it's nice to see you being productive, I need you for something." He takes out a rolled parchment from his waistband and unfurls it on the white tiles.
"I just cleaned there." I mutter, and he casts a wry glance my way.
"This is a map of Poor Man's Grove." He points to the closely docked houses, gliding a finger nonchalantly along Fraizer River. "The man from last night attacked me in Freun City. I locked down my region of the kingdom, which means he's either hiding in my own city or yours. Although, I highly doubt he's hiding here if he has any toddler sense."
I eye his rib cage in disinterest. He wears white today, and is no longer bleeding from his side. "Why are you telling me this?"
"He's a mercenary like you. May be an assassin but with similar purpose. I've been receiving attempts on my life for the past three months and this is the closest someone has come to actually disemboweling me and escaping."
"I take full offense to that."
"There are two groups, I theorize." I inwardly growl at his ignorance. "You were sent against your will, as you said. This person, had a purpose. He tracked us for hours, and I did not realise until he attacked. You also said you've never seen him before."
"That doesn't mean there are two groups tailing you."
"I said I theorize. I never said I was right."
I scoff at how he plays with his words."You said he has a purpose. Doing something against one's will seems like a sound purpose to me."
"No," he shakes his head, rocking back on his heels. His large arms rest on his knees and I've only just registered just how much bigger he is than me. "When he stabbed me, there was something else there. Something greedy. Something...motivating him to kill with a smile on his face."
A shudder rips through me, I wipe at the sweat beading on my forehead. "You need to stop thinking that you can read a person's thought process just from one interaction."
He looks at me then, his eyes darken ever so slightly, just like last night. "I have seen many people die in my twenty two years of living. It may not seem like much, but the experience is there. I am a General for a reason." He shakes his head, his eyebrows creasing, as if asking himself why he has to explain himself to me. He jumps up with a grunt, pointing to the map.
"I want an outline of all the spaces you think he may be hiding. The routes he may take to escape. I want you to tell me how he thinks, which way he might attack from a certain position and when. I want this information before we leave for Grove." He commands with utmost authority, the first I've really heard from him.
"We?" I take the paper in my hand, my thumb subconsciously passing over Kat's house. My home.
"Yes. We. Even if I'm right and there are two mercenary groups tailing me, you all think the same. Different motives, but the same purpose; to have my head. I think you'll actually provide some use in this circumstance." He turns to leave, his hand on the doorframe. "We leave in an hour for the Festival. Be dressed and have that map ready by then."
I do as he says. Albeit, against my will. Poppy strides into my room with a gentle smile on her face as usual. I sit on the bed in my undergarments, watching her choose between dresses and a pair of matching slippers, all coupled with a rose pin to put in my hair. I realise she herself loves fashion. It is evident in the way she chooses vibrant yet subtle colours to compliment her skin; like painting yellow and blue stars on a night sky canvas. She draws you in; hypnotising with every slow blink of her dark brown eyes, her hair a mane of onyx gold.
"Is all this necessary?" I ask rather apathetically, a permanent notch in my eyebrow.
She looks up, a rose pin dangling in between her lithe, feminine fingers. I play with my calloused hands subconsciously, picking at the ends of my nails. She nods once, her smile never faltering.
"I do not need to look pretty or feminine, I'm happy with whatever you choose."
She slants her head, a gleam in her eyes. That alone tells me she doesn't get to do this often, hence the nitpicking and indecisiveness.
"Do you like doing these things?"
She nods.
"Even if it's for someone like me?" The question has no control, and I question whether my brain fell off the deep end for a split second. I gather myself at her reaction. I do not know why I'm asking such a nonsensical question, the answer is obvious.
Poppy's eyes go into a tiny lilt, her smile saddening. She leans forward a little, angling the rose pin in my hair. I freeze a little when she takes a couple stands into her hands. Kat never did these things with me. I have vague memories of plaiting my hair with my mother, a soft, fleeting whisper of her voice accompanied with gentle wraps and loops. With nimble fingers, she pins my hair to the side, then clasps her hands together as if she's painted a masterpiece. Then nods in reply.
I can't help the blush that creeps onto my cheeks, and I want to ask her more questions. Why is she so kind to me? Why is she the only one in this house that understands why I'm here, why I had to do this?
"Aren't you allowed to speak to me then? It's quite lonesome hearing Daina and Rider bickering all the time to spite me."
Her concentration on the movement on my lips does not go unnoticeable. It was then that she licks her lips in contemplation, eyes flittering about the room. She walks over to the small table on the other side, grabbing a piece of charcoal and paper. Scribbling something down while ambling over to me once more, her eyes crease ever so slightly and I wonder so many things within those few seconds.
She slides the paper to me, her eyes growing smaller like a dazzling crescent moon to match her smile.
I cannot speak.
Three words that bloom in my heart. Three words that make me appreciate the little piece of friendship she has given me. But I show her no pity, as I would've wanted for myself.
I simply take the pen from her fingers and write the first thing I could think of: Then I take this time to thank you for making me feel less of a criminal and more of a person.
She stares at the paper with more concentration that she should have. Then her eyes slowly rove over my face, a newfound emotion in her eyes and the subtle up-tilt of her lips. I cannot place the emotion that gleams from her, nor can I say I can provide a proper reaction.
I'm guessing she realises this, as she saunters over to the bed, and points at the white and black summer dress that rests at my feet, a new star adding to the constellations that glimmer in her eyes. That is response enough.
I sit on the wooden chair in the room, already changed in the dress that seems too expensive for my lifetime, even if I combined Kat's treasury and mine. It reaches my ankles, spreading out in three layers of white, black and cream. The sleeves are long and semi-detached from the material that wraps comfortably around my neck. There is an outline of a heart where my cleavage begins, and I wonder why the General chose such a dress for me if I am his prisoner.
The map outline of Grove is complete with sketches and pointers to small back roads, back alleys and houses that have been abandoned for years now. Rider stands by the door way, awaiting the General's appearance.
"Is this really going to help you?" I ask, squinching my nose at my poor handwriting. Rider cocks an eyebrow at me, maybe thinking my reaction is towards the general.
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"I was not questioning your precious general, Rider, I'm questioning my goat's head handwriting."
"Once it is legible I'll take it." The General beams, striding into the room. He is clad in less armour than usual, a thin breastplate covers his broad chest and the red armoured thigh plates that matches the mask swinging in his hand. "You look decent."
"Why have me wear such a thing?"
He twists his mouth as I stand, his eyes roaming from the top of my head, to my neckline, past my stomach and lingers around my hips.
"You're leering. I don't like it when men so blatantly leer." I say strongly, not allowing the race of my heart to dictate my tone or give him the pleasure of seeing me flustered. I am not used to being stared at this way by anyone, let alone a man of his beauty and stature. After years of being by my lonesome, romantically of course, I can't help but fiddle with the thin layer of my dress from the heat that rushes to my belly.
His eyes are soft, racing back up to meet mine, "Assessing. Do you have the map ready?"
When I don't move, he saunters over, immediately covering me in his shadow. He leans over the desk, his long finger tracing my handwriting and the outline of my sketches. From this distance I can smell his soap, see the mole on the side of his face. His hair covers his ears, brushing the top of his breastplate.
"Are you sure these areas are abandoned?"
"Positive."
"Hmm." He stands straight, now facing me. His eyes bore into me, the room grows darker and for a moment, I am lost in the honey brown of his eyes. I blink three times and swallow hard, pretending away the awkward feeling rising in my chest as simply nerves trying to better my mental fortitude. "Bring the cuffs."
Rider saunters into the room with a thin reel of rope, long enough to wrap around my hands twice.
"You're tying me up?"
"For all of our safety. You are a prisoner after all." The General takes the rope, holding both my hands in his much larger ones. I almost gape at the size difference. "You're lucky it's rope and not iron clad manacles. Those are difficult to walk around in."
"I didn't know you were into these things General. It's a bit kinky, even for a man of your stature."
He tugs at the leash, I stumble forward and almost into him. His stare, so assertively clandestine, connects with mine. "No crude talk. Be good and keep quiet, okay?"
My beating heart urges me to do the opposite, purely to keep the heat from flooding to my cheeks. "You know I'll be able to wriggle out of these right? I thought I made it clear I have no more intentions of trying to hurt you." I clear the thought from my mind, now wondering if my attempt to kill him may be better in a public setting. There will be many people, many possibilites for distractions. He's even given me the weapon right in my hands.
"I know." He responds simply, a goal shining through his eyes. He's testing me. Testing to see whether I'd indeed escape and risk his guards targeting me. "With or without it, you won't. But I have to follow safety measures."
"Especially since this has never happened before." Rider mutters, glancing around the room as the General glares at him.
"Rider go make yourself useful and round up the horses."
Rider rolls his eyes, saluting the general nonetheless. "Yes sir."
When he leaves, The Giant turns back to me, a small, homely smile on his face. "You let him roll his eyes at you? Aren't you supposed to be all strict about that?" I ask, and he cocks an eyebrow.
"Rider is my subordinate yes, but he is also a friend who doesn't like my...current decisions. I'll let him throw his little tantrums."
"Friend? Is that even allowed? I thought Generals didn't have friends?" He wraps the end of the rope around his own hand, once, and then tightens it around my hand at the comment, veins outlining his own hands in contrast to my own. "Ow".
"I wouldn't expect a mercenary to have friends either." He spins on his heel, hiding a smirk on his way through the door. I waddle after him, because of this stupid skirt, and follow him through the halls.
"I don't." I say honestly, disregarding everyone but Kat and maybe Linda and the ten year old who lives across the street.
"I can imagine."
I huff and fix my skirts as I walk, eyeing the guards that trail beside us and the ones at the door. They're covered in red armour from head to toe; some don hoods over their veiled faces others with longbows and short swords grazing their hips. All intimidating despite it. There's so much more today than two days ago.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"No." He answers solemnly. Obviously, I disregard him.
"You didn't have this many guards the night I managed to sneak in, which was probably why I managed to do that."
"What I do with my guards is none of your concern." We waltz through the open doorway leading to the backyard, and I halt my steps almost immediately. Rider and Daina never allowed me near the back entrance, and I can see why. Flowers of every blue, pink, yellow and magenta bloom in full rousal, the scent of lavender and lillies permeating the air like a thick blanket of happiness. There is a sleeping willow on the other end of the acre of green, whispering and swaying with the wind that flows through the layers of my dress. Happiness, is what it is. True freedom.
"Is something wrong?" Rider touches my back with the hilt of his sword, urging me to walk. The General stops for a moment, turning back to face his second in command. I can feel his eyes boring into me, but I can't take my eyes off of the oak, maple and elm trees, their leaves dancing and gracing each other as they fall and line the walkway leading to the small woody hills beyond.
"No." I take a deep breath, and close my eyes. Five seconds. In. Out. My thoughts dwindle into clear waters; a way to the surface and beyond the murky depths. My mind clears of all the thoughts I've been harbouring for the last couple days. My eyes meet the General's; a gaze that seems to penetrate the surface of the water to provide a safe way out. His eyebrows tilt gently, a guiding hand.
Today is just for the festival. I do not want to ponder killing anyone, or saving anyone. I can do it tomorrow. I want to be free today.
°•°•°•°•°
We ride through the west trail by horseback. Rider rides at my left, a younger man named Kay; who ties his white dreadlocks away from his mask, then taps his sword three times for good measure, rides to my right. And of course, the General rides with me. His body is pressed against mine, and with the horse's canter, our bodies move in blissful sync. I want to jump off of the horse and fall on my face with the way my body heat betrays me.
"Can I ask you a question?" I ask, something to distract the way I can feel his heartbeat against my back.
"No."
"Question for question? I'll answer honestly." I bribe, and he sighs, his breathe caressing my neck. I force my body to suppress a shudder. Please let this end.
"Fine."
"How come you're so close with your guards? You said they were friends? Are all the generals like that?"
I glance over my shoulder to gauge a reaction, and he simply stares ahead, a comfortable expression on his placid features. "Not all of us are very friendly with our subordinates. We work together after all, duty is duty. But Rider has been my friend even when I was in the Royal Academy. He has seen me surpass many ranks, many people. And he was the first person I chose to work under me."
"Why?"
He looks at me then, the sun highlighting the sharpness of his jaw and the soft angle of his nose. "Trust."
Trust. My plan spins like clockwork in my head. The general trusted someone who could've been lethally jealous of his endeavours. And instead they are friends. Yes, this can work.
When I open my mouth to ask another question, he cuts me off rather abruptly, "Question for question, love."
"Do not call me that."
"I do not know your name. I can call you anything I wish."
"Not that."
He hums, twisting his lips in contemplation. "Shall I stick to little lynx ?"
"Why does little have to be in there?" I cock an eyebrow, he mimics me. He shrugs, feigning any interest in my question.
"It suits you. So, little lynx, tell me what that hindrance was back there."
When I turn back around, facing the falling petals and pink peonies and dahlias decorating the roots that swerve through the path, I shrug in forced nonchalance. "I've always liked nature I guess. Minus the insects, of course." I glance up to the trees to my right, seeing his head trace my line of sight, "When I was younger, I used to hide in the trees. Hide among the wildflowers, smell the dewy scent of dawn, feel the softness of the bark after a thunderstorm. Nature was always alive, and it made me feel like the world was somehow..."
"Breathing with you?" He meets my gaze, a mutual but distant understanding resonating between us. "I get that."
"Do you like nature?"
A muscle ticks in his strong jaw, but he never falters. "I did."
I don't respond for a moment, carried away by the simplicity of such a conversation. It is different from the late night talks with Kat. Kat is my guardian, my elder. I have no friends my age, nobody I could relate to the way a friend would. This is comfortable, and new, and awkward on a level I didn't understand. I could've lived without friends before, but taste the sweetness of candy and it is all you will crave until you have more.
"Sir," Rider calls as we near the entrance to the Grove. Nostalgia hits me like a sword to the back of the head. Even though it's only been a couple days, I've missed the sight of the villagers parading about to their daily chores, oblivious to the world around them. I doubt I'd be able to sneak off with the General's rope tied around my hand, the leash to my collar in his own, but I wish I could see Kat. Just once.
The colours and essence of Carmine festival awaits us until the late dregs of night.