A Malice Heart
Chapter Eleven

The morning breeze bristled by them, causing Drew to shiver. Malice had almost taken off his own jacket at the sight but then remembered himself and asked instead, “Is there really something wrong with my looks?” He didn’t know why he asked it of the assassin before him, the one who would most likely agree with the middle-aged lady, but Drew actually took a second to assess him. She frowned, humming, and pursed her lips, “You know what,” with a squint, she replied quietly, “you’re not half bad.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Malice ignored the remark, seeing that it hadn’t left him with a true answer yet, and instead moved on to another question, slightly noting the fact that Drew was still partially hugging his left hand, “Where exactly is it that we’re headed, darling?”

“Given that it’s morning, I believe we should be headed to go eat some breakfast because I’m famished,” she rubbed her stomach, looking around them and mumbling to herself, “now where is that beautiful stand…?”

The king didn’t feel a tinge of hunger, only a desire to go back to the palace and never return to this village again. He’d again attempted to muster up some bit of sympathy or emotion but again hit an empty hole deep inside him. Nothing helped, no sight could change the kind of person he was in this world.

He turned to see the bright girl beside him, her blue eyes seemed so filled with life, a goal so brilliantly shown in them. Malice was practically able to see her future, loaded with glory and love and so many beautiful things. He could see it, so plainly he could see her future.

But then he looked at his own, straining his eyes as best he could in an attempt to replace some flicker of hope for himself, some flicker that this shadow which cast itself over his life will one day lift. How he had tried for days to peer past this wall and look beyond, but all he saw was a cliff.

A cliff that would lead him to his death. A most painful and merciless death.

Drew seemed to sense that he had drifted in thought given that she shook his arm violently, “Looks like someone didn’t sleep well last night. How about some deep-fried potatoes to cheer old Malice up, huh?”

Malice only frowned at the idea. He wasn’t a fan of deep-fried anything, so he only shook his head. “I’ll live without one meal, darling.”

“No you won’t, not if you keep saying that every time we eat. I’d be able to practically hear it from your grave at some point,” Drew walked up to one of the stands and handed the man there two coins. In return, she received two plates of hot, fried potatoes. She lowered her mouth and caught one in between her teeth, chewed, and swallowed. “Not bad at all. Burns the throat nicely given this cold.”

The assassin handed him over the second plate, but Malice only lowered his gaze to it and then looked up at her, refusing to take it.

Drew’s calmed face immediately turned somewhat more feral as she shoved it into his chest, “Take it or else I’ll shove it down your throat, you bastard.”

Malice only rolled his eyes and caught hold of the warm dish, secretly holding back a grin. He hated to admit how he’d missed her snarky comments. It had been a while, given that she seemed to be holding it all in just for the sake of having her king do as she said. It was failing all too well, yet he wasn’t willing to admit it to her. He didn’t want the look on her face to fade just yet. Until that time of hatred comes back, he’d attempt to relax with every second of it.

For now, he was out in the cold, feeling completely unclean and surrounded by dirty humans, but at least it was all with the assassin before him. The one that forced him to eat one of the potatoes on the platter which had already begun to warm his gloved hand.

“How is it?”

Absolutely disgusting. “I’ve had worse,” he forced out, but his own stomach said otherwise, willing to vomit the food out any moment now. Drew’s face, on the other hand, lit up as she ate three more of hers and turned around, heading towards the same direction in which they came from. Malice quickly took that chance to throw half his platter in a nearby trash can before making it to the red-heads side. She looked at his plate and grinned, but didn’t say anything, continuing to eat her own dish.

They seemed to be heading back to the palace, given that they were a day’s walk away from reaching the gates of the village, so Drew took him back on a different route that showed Malice another side of the village. This part looked a lot cleaner, with giant stores and well-paid restaurants. The streets were filled with life, and people genuinely looked happy.

“Before you start making up some kind of objection, I’d like to tell you that this is where all the high-ranked people live.” Drew cast her hand outwards, motioning towards the buildings. “Only those with high salaries are able to afford the houses and eat at the restaurants.”

“I see,” Malice grumbled, throwing the cheap potatoes into a nearby can while she wasn’t looking. There was no way anyone here would recognize him, especially given that they’d never guess to see their king outside of his palace walls. Malice had made it clear how much he hated the outside world enough to make them all shut up about it and move on to talking about more interesting topics that didn’t waste his time.

At this point, there were no new feelings at all. Not for the beauty that this part of the village held, not for the happiness that practically shone with every corner, and not for the grim look on Drew’s face as she passed everyone. He wondered how many times she’d had to look at these people living their good lives as if there was no one suffering right next door to them. He wondered how many times she had to suppress herself from doing anything until she had reached that breaking point and decided to assassinate her king.

It all slowly clicked together, this girl’s life story that had brought her to where she was now, and it fascinated the king because he had never thought that someone so low in life could do such fascinating things. He was born into royalty, raised as a spoiled brat, and lived as the villain of his own story, but none of it bothered him. Malice was who he was no matter what.

As they’d reached the gates of the village, Drew looked backwards and Malice did the same, casting one final glance towards it and its people. To anyone walking by, this may look strange, a pair looking off at a village, one worried and the other…heartless.

Malice sighed and turned back, already heading back towards his home. He didn’t want to stay one more minute in that miserable place. For all he cared, it could burn to cinders with its people inside. That way he would stop hearing of it daily, over and over and over. It had become a nuisance once again, he realized, something that simply won’t leave him alone.

Drew came up from behind, hugging herself now in an attempt to warm up from the cold. Her hair had become partially undone at this point, the loose strands dancing on her face as they climbed upwards towards the palace, bags now almost empty. Malice couldn’t hold himself back from raising his hand and moving one of her hair strands behind her ear. He didn’t smile or say anything as she looked up at him at the sudden movement and instead gave him a ‘what?’ look.

Malice still said nothing, the silence between them not lasting too long as the clouds grew darker and the sound of droplets began to echo all around them. Drop after drop, they soon found themselves looking at each other before running upwards through the downpour. The rain grew heavier with each passing second and the two’s attempt to escape it soon became a race that Malice most definitely did not intend on losing.

For a second he forgot everything and only focused on his feet, running as fast as they had ever before, one step after another, his gaze fixed on the palace gates. He already heard Drew howling with laughter from beside him, slowly catching up to him.

A flash of light blinded him for a second and not a minute later, thunder clapped, rumbling the earth from beneath them. His clothes and hair were now completely soaked, sticking to his body and getting even dirtier from the mud as it splashed upon him.

Drew didn’t look any better. Her own clothes were covered in mud up to her waist, the bag at her side already sliding down her shoulder and about to fall behind given how determined she was in winning the race.

As the two now run side by side, another thunderclap clashed in the skies, and before Malice could do anything, Drew sped up from the corner of his eyes and slammed herself into the gate.

Malice winced at the sight as she carefully peeled herself from the cement and checked her nose to make sure every bone was in place. When all was well, she looked up at him with a giant smile, “I don’t take back calling you old earlier, Malice. You need to work on that run.”

Flipping her soaked hair behind her, the gates opened up at the sight of the king’s return and she strode in as if she owned the damned place. Malice only came from behind her, his feet now aching and replaceing himself in need of a bath as soon as possible.

He didn’t feel too disappointed at the loss of the race, knowing that he had won in many other things, but cared more about the aching in his chest. Something that squeezed his heart tightly before dropping it low in his stomach. What was this strange feeling? It reminded him of earlier that day, but this time it was stronger. Too fixated on himself, he didn’t notice how Drew was already ascending the steps pretty quickly. He jogged upwards, suddenly filled with energy once again to see where she was headed in such a hurry.

As she entered the palace, the doors flinging open in front of her, Malice had only reached the top of the steps. He managed to catch the doors before they fully closed and pushed them forward once more to let himself in. His boots dirtied the red carpet beneath him, the water on his clothes soaking it even more. “Drew.” She stopped at the sound of her name, her back still facing him. “Is something the matter?”

The assassin quickly turned around, as if snapping out of her trans, and said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I just thought of something.”

There was a strong desire to ask her what that thing was, but Malice kept his mouth shut. He only frowned and turned towards one of the maids that happened to be passing them, “Draw the girl a bath and make sure she’s cleaned up for lunch.”

Drew’s eyes looked up to meet his. “I don’t need her help to get ready.”

“Darling, your face is paler than the moon. You look like you may pass out any moment,” he took in a breath. “It wasn’t a good idea to have you run in the rain. The last thing you need is to run up with a fever.”

Drew’s face fell, her eyes squinting in question as she slowly shook her head, looking around with her arms spread, “Is it something with this palace that makes you act like this? Everything was perfectly fine a moment ago, and suddenly you’re becoming a possessive bastard all over again.”

“You need rest, Drew.” That was all he said as he turned around and walked back to his own chambers, praying for no one to pass him and see the state he was in physically. Even though he knew that none of the guards or maids would dare talk badly of their king behind his back, it was still an uncomfortable feeling, however, he had to admit that it was somewhat… enjoyable. A few minutes of joy rushed through his veins before he remembered who he was, who Drew was, and where they were. That could never happen again. He did this all to pay his part of the deal. At least, that was the lie he fed himself with.