Deception's Blade - Chapter Six (edited)

Alright, after the previous little interval I think it's time to get back to the rest of the story! As always, I appreciate your support and your feedback! :)

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With a start, Eona withdrew her hand from Daveth's and looked down, silently praying that whoever was in the courtyard with them had not been there for long.

"Who goes there?" Daveth called out, placing a cautionary hand on the pommel of his sword as he stood up from the bench. "What business do you have in the courtyard at this hour?"

"I would ask the same of you, captain," a voice drawled, each word stumbling through the still air as if spewed from a drunkard's tongue. Movement to her right drew Eona's gaze, and as she squinted against the glimmering moonlight she caught sight of a shadowed figure standing beneath a barren tree not ten feet from her.

"Fortunately, though," the stranger continued, stepping forward and pushing back the hood of his cloak, "I did not come to see you."

Eona stood as her eyes, wide with shock, met the gaze of the last person she wanted to see.

Greasy black hair, parted evenly down the middle and drawn back into a loose ponytail, dangled low over his hunched back. One blue eye peeked sightlessly from beneath a distended, drooped brow while the other, the same stone gray color as his father's, roamed lustfully over her body; it took nearly every ounce of Eona's willpower to resist shuddering beneath his unwanted stare.

Beside her, Daveth placed a hand behind his back and tipped his head in a short bow. "Lord Paschel," he said through clenched teeth. "Forgive me, I didn't know it was you."

Paschel dismissed Daveth's half-hearted apology with an amused snort. "As you are no doubt aware of, captain," he said as he motioned to his disfigured face, "I am accustomed to going unnoticed." Turning his good eye back to Eona, the son of Lord Divikus grinned. "I've come to take a stroll in the gardens with my betrothed. If it pleases you, milady?"

The memory of her exchange with Lord Azir earlier this afternoon resurfaced, and a sour taste filled Eona's mouth as anger boiled in the pit of her stomach. How could her father consort with Lord Dominik behind her back and promise her hand to a stranger she had not seen in over ten years? Regardless of her alleged responsibilities as a Noble's daughter, it was an affront to her honor!

Next to her she felt Daveth tense, but as she looked to him she found no comfort in his stare.

Gods, grant me just one last moment with him, she silently pleaded. Even if I'm to wed Paschel tomorrow, give me this night with Daveth to ease the ache in my heart.

As if in answer to her silent prayer, Daveth said, "I'm afraid I was just about to escort Lady Trinity to her bedchamber." His lips twitched at Paschel's displeased scowl. "She isn't feeling well, milord, and I think it best that she retire for the night."

"I did not come out here to ask for her pet's permission," Paschel drawled, smirking as Daveth bristled.

"My lord," Eona spoke up, biting back the vexation in her tone as she stepped forward. "It's late, and I am unwell. Perhaps we can converse tomorrow, under more pleasant conditions?"

But Paschel would not be denied. "It saddens me to hear that you are ill," he said, though Eona detected little sincerity in his words. "However, I only ask for a moment of your time."

And she knew then that he would not desist, no matter how adament she was.

Though she detested the notion with every fiber of her being, Eona decided it best to humor the young lord.

Only for a moment, she thought as she nodded to Daveth. She watched as the knight bowed and stepped aside before turning her full attention to Paschel. And by the Firstborn, not a moment longer.

Paschel extended a thin, bony hand and grinned. "Come, my lady. Let us walk together."

Begrudgingly, Eona took his hand and allowed him to guide her through the courtyard. She no longer felt the biting cold as they walked along the cobblestone path; her skin was numb and her soul afire as her emotions once more jumbled around inside her belly, and briefly she found herself thinking this all to be a dream.

If only that were true, she thought with a sigh.

"I had always wanted a large ceremony," Paschel's voice cut through the silence, drawing Eona's attention. "In truth, I had always envisioned us together, Eona. We used to pretend that we were married once, do you remember? And to think that in three months' time that vision will bear fruit!"

"We were children, Paschel," she blurted, her jaw clenching at the thought. "Children often have silly dreams. They mean nothing."

He slowed his pace and glanced at her, his eyes searching her own. "My brother said the same thing once," he said, shadows flickering across his face as his gaze darkened. "And if he were alive today then it would be his hand you'd take, not mine."

Eona winced as Paschel's grip tightened on her hand, her brow narrowing as she fought to hold her tongue. The sooner you humor him, the sooner you can take your leave, she reminded herself, curling her fingers to help alleviate the pressure.

But as quickly as it happened the mood had vanished, and a glint shone in his eye as a new thought crossed his mind.

"The gods were surely good to me when they took my brother, weren't they?" He chortled at his own cleverness, and Eona wrinkled her nose at the airy sound.

Following his lead, Eona continued to indulge in Paschel's company as they wandered even farther across the courtyard, wondering if their conversation would ever end soon enough.

She paid him no mind as he continued to prattle on, only nodding and mumbling a curt 'yes' or 'no' where it seemed appropriate, and with every step they took she spared a glance behind them. Even though she could no longer see Daveth, she took solace in knowing that he had not abandoned her with this man—Lord Dominik's son or not, he was still a stranger to her, and she knew in her heart that the captain would not let her out of his sight.

"Lady Eona?"

"Hm?" Eona turned to Paschel as they stopped beneath a snow-covered cherry blossom on the farthest end of the courtyard. She must have been lost in her thoughts longer than she had anticipated; the moon had long since vanished behind dark clouds, the shadows taking back the gardens in the light's absence.

"My lady, are you with me?" Paschel asked. He brushed a hand against her cheek, furrowing his brow as she inadverdently recoiled from the touch. "D-do I repulse you?"

"Nonsense," she lied, taking his hand in hers and lowering it from her face. "I just had a chill."

Paschel eyed her, unconvinced. "You were always kind to me as a child, my lady, and I have always loved you for that. But please, do not lie." With a sigh he withdrew his hand and waved it in front of his face. "I have tried to change this," he said, a deep sadness twisting his voice. "Ever since I was a boy. But not even the mages of Lashak Tower could repair my broken body."

Eona studied his face in the dark, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of the boy she had defended so many years ago. A twinge of sympathy pulled at her heart, softening her expression. "Paschel—"

But the hunchback shook his head. "I know you hold no love for me, Eona," he began, his eyes hardening as he looked back up at her. "I am no fool. But it doesn't matter. You are promised to me, and I to you. That alone lifts my spirits and lightens my heart."

Eona averted her gaze as the rage came bubbling back. "I wish I could say the same," she whispered.

Her misfortune was slowly becoming a reality, and for the first time since she was confronted with her destiny she felt completely helpless. This was her path, the path her father had set in stone for her, and she was powerless to change it.

"I understand your frustration," Paschel continued, placing a frail finger under her chin and forcing her to look at him. "And I'm not angered by it, I swear. But maybe, in time, you will learn to love me bac—"

Something wet splashed against her face.

Eona blinked, wiping her hand against her cheek. The liquid was warm and sticky against her skin; a metallic odor overwhelmed her nostrils, nearly causing her to gag.

"Paschel?"

The young lord gurgled in response, his words catching in his throat as he glanced down. Eona followed his gaze and...froze.

Protruding from his chest, the tip dripping with his blood, was the point of a blade.

She heard a scream, shrill and frightened, but it took her a moment to realize that the scream was emitting from her own throat.

Daveth!

She didn't know why she thought of the captain, but she felt safe at the very idea of him. Her mind reeled as she stared, unblinking, at the sharp bloodied edge jutting from Paschel's breast. Daveth was the only other person in the courtyard with them, he could help! He wasn't so far behind, he could—

He was the only other person in the courtyard.

Her heart skipped a beat as she reflected on the implications of that thought.

"Daveth!" she cried, her own voice surprising her as she watched the point disappear from view. Her eyes followed Paschel's lifeless body as it slumped to the ground in a heap. "Daveth," she repeated; it seemed to be all she could say in her state of shock.

Tears stung at her eyes as she lifted her bewildered gaze to the shadowed figure standing before her. She had never heard him approach, never saw him come close to Lord Dominik's son. And now the man she was destined to marry lay dead at her feet while the man she considered her closest friend held the murder weapon by its hilt.

If her father found out about this, if Dominik found out...

"Daveth," she whispered, clutching her chest as a sense of dread seized her thoughts. "What have you done? Don't you know what my father will do to you for this?"

He stared back at her through the dark, the dagger hanging limply in his hand as he tilted his head to the side. In the stillness, she could almost hear the steady drip, drip of blood on the cobblestones at her feet.

"Answer me!" Eona exclaimed, her heart racing as she reached out for him. "My father will execute you for this!"

Her words were met with silence, and Eona stepped forward. "This was not the way," she whispered as a bout of sobs wracked her body. "I never wanted—I never...Say something!"

"Eona!"

Eona turned at the sound of hurried footsteps pounding against the cobblestones behind her. A man was running across the courtyard, his sword drawn as he waved a hand at her.

"Daveth?"

In the sparse light Eona saw the familiar glint of the captain's chainmail; a tiny speck on the opposite end of the courtyard. "Eona, run!" he hollered as he sprinted, his eyes wide with fright.

Understanding suddenly dawned on her—Daveth had not slain Paschel, and he was not standing before her now.

A new wave of fear gripping her, Eona slowly turned back to the shadow standing only inches from her. Her heart throbbed faster as she placed one foot behind her and took a shaky step back. The shadow followed, brandishing his blade menacingly as he chuckled. He was taunting her, she realized as she took another slow step back, watching with wide eyes as he mirrored her.

She was still far too close to make a break for it; he could simply thrust his dagger forward and slice her chest open with ease.

Daveth, the man not standing before her, was narrowing the distance between her and this killer, but she knew that even he would not reach her in time.

This stranger had broken into her home unnoticed and skewered Lord Dominik's son through the heart. He must have killed others as he broke into the Trinity Keep, she discerned as she thought of her father's unsuspecting guardsmen lying in a pool of their own blood.

And now he was going to kill her.