Chapitre 25: Chapter 11: Blood and Nectar
As if it were a banausic task, the queen clenched her jaw as she lowered herself on her desk chair. The cotton cushion did not aid in her comfort as it did before. Nonetheless, she traced her fingers over a finely written note on her desk. A snowdrop lay beside it. On the parchment stood: May the day play out in your favour.
It was an odd way of wishing one a good day, considering the choice of wording; either way, Riona accepted it, the slightest of grins playing at the corner of her lips. Her neck craned back towards the ceiling. Her hands cramped and for a moment she considered avoiding what she had planned.
"No," she whispered, forcing her hands into icy fists, "I shall not back down to sickness." Her mind wandered to when she was just a little ten-year-old with a runny nose. She recalled being forced to step into the practice ring every morning. Her sleeves would be disgustingly smeared in snot after a session because they were all she could use. Someone had told her that to be strong, one had to dirty one's hands. Weirdly, she couldn't remember who it was.
"My lady, I've brought your tray and bucket," announced the maid from the doorway. Riona slowly lowered her face to level the eye contact. The maid avoided the gaze, pretending to focus on not spilling the tea. Riona leaned back with false comfort. "How long have you worked in the castle, Gina?" she asked out of the blue. Gina set the tray down across from the queen. "After your crowning, my lady," she answered a bit confused.
"Did you go under training?"
"I am sure every maid had to, my lady."
"Then why are you not confident in walking with a tray in your hands?"
"I have clumsy feet."
Riona raised her brows as she started, "Clumsiness is a trait that the castle steward detests. Maids are trained to walk with equal steps, to hold their shoulders level and to keep their hands firmly. This takes a couple of years to perfect. You, however, do not fit the criteria, which makes me curious, how did you manage to infiltrate my home?"
Gina stood stupefied like a mouse in a birdcage. Riona leaned her head to the side, awaiting her to speak. Gina shook her head: "Do you have a fever, my lady?"
Riona set a palm to her forehead, mockingly settling worry on her features. "I'm afraid not."
Gina frowned. "How did you know?"
"Haven't I made it clear? It was your pathetic attempt to play a role you are not fit to play. You are a spy. All that I am not sure yet is, if you are taking revenge for the prince, or if you were hired by someone else who might also have been a follower of the deceased prince."
Gina finally dropped her surprised facade. "They told me you weren't as smart as Drystan," she said.
"Oh I most definitely am not," agreed Riona standing, her eyes sliding across the bookshelves, "But I have learnt one thing from him, and that is not to trust anyone, especially those close to me."
Riona snickered as her gaze returned to Gina, "And you've come a bit to close for my liking."
Gina was about to reach under her skirt for presumably a weapon of her own, when a dagger flew past her throat, slightly nicking her, in a twice her skin was prickling scarlet red.
Her palm latched to her neck, eyes wide. In the other hand she held a small dagger of her own. Riona smirked, taunting, "Slash me if you can, butterfly." Gina, pressed her lips into a fine line. Her face turning a shade of rose. "Why don't you come cut me up in pieces!" she hissed. Riona motioned towards the bucket, as she collected and stepped around her desk, wrapping her hand around the grip of a blue-hued blade. She smiled dangerously, "With pleasure."
Gina stepped an inch back. "W-what are you going to cut off first?" she stuttered, still roping together the little composure she had. Riona swung her blade, turning towards the dogging spy. She slashed the air above Gina's head as a point. Gina stepped closer, trying to close distance to avoid being struck. She jabbed failingly towards Riona's torso before being kicked to the desk. The furniture item screeched. Riona swung again, this time piercing through Gina's forearm. The spy winced, her scream almost tearing Riona's eardrums. The blood oozed onto the desk, staining the note that lay there. A sharp sting caught Riona's attention. The dagger had cut her own arm.
Blood wasn't the only red flashing in her tunnel vision, soon she gripped the infiltrator's hair, ramming the sword through her ribcage, twisting it. Gina stabbed with the dagger at the queen's side, though struggling to cut as deep.
The sword withdrew and she took a few steps back, wiping her forehead with the back of her clean hand. Blood pattered onto the floor. Riona sighed deeply, "Who knew that blood looked so decorative?"
Gina cried, her hand dropping the dagger, her legs sinking against the desk. Riona gathered herself, her hand pulling away the damaged fabric on her side. Her brows raised once more. "And who knew that fire-rat leather corsets could stop daggers?"
Gina gurgled, averting the queen's attention. Riona's ears perked. The sword clanged on the ground as she left it. Gina struggled to look up and when she did, she feared what she saw. Dull glazed over eyes stared hungrily towards her, as if a beast were hiding behind the queen's face. One hand knotted in Gina's hair, the other grasping her wing. Gina begged, "Please. N-not while I'm still alive, please."
Riona sneered, "But you have dared to damage my household while I am here? I think not." Agonising screams pierced the room as the poor butterfly's wings were torn off, one after the other. It was a difficult procedure, which resulted in Riona reaching for the dagger herself to slash off the wings.
The door to the study clashed against the wall as it busted open. The individuals in the doorway were met with utter horror, one of the darkly dressed lord himself. As he watched the queen stand from her victim, his stomach dropped. Never once could he imagine Riona to be capable of such slaughter. His face paled.
Riona turned, a severed wing still in her hand. Scarlet speckled her blank face. The wing dropped with a quiet thud. Her shoulders were slouched, one covered in violet fabric, the other exposed through torn slits. She took a breath, pointing with a shaking finger towards the bucket. "You can put the spilt guts in there. Oh, wipe the desk off, will you? I am going to get cleaned up."
The guards stood stunned in the doorway. How could she be so calm? Valleric struggled to ask, "W-what happened?"
Riona tiredly looked towards him, as if all energy was swimming out of her. "I have killed one of many serpents," she said, "I have done what was needed."
They guards stepped aside as she passed them to retreat to her den. Valleric could not help but feel amusement buried under his clear shock. A moth cannot resist blood, he thought, just like a butterfly can't resist nectar.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone