A Malice Heart
Chapter Three

The following morning, Malice ate his breakfast in the silence of the dining hall. The long table before him was mostly empty, as all the food was on his side and as he had no other family members or friends to feed.

It had been so long since he’d had a friend. The last one he cut off entirely was a boy his age. At the age of fifteen, Malice simply ceased speaking with the boy and found life to be significantly more enjoyable without him.

As Malice took one last bite of the bacon, he waited two seconds before there was a loud knock at the door on his right.

“Come in,” he commanded, already hearing the girl’s cries in protest behind the wooden door. As it opened, a servant pulled Drew in by her elbow, completely ignoring her yells and thrushes.

“If you don’t let me go this instant, I swear I’ll—” she froze at the sight of the king, watching her from his side of the table as he assessed her. Drew now wore a dress that one of the maids found for her.

The dress was lengthened just below her knees, the fabric puffing up just a bit. Its color was light beige with a flower pattern that lapsed on one another at the top part of the dress. Two long sleeves covered her arms and even reached up to cover her neck. Malice also had her bathed and cleaned so she doesn’t stink up the entire palace and leave behind any bit of grime on her way here.

The assassin fascinated him with the way she had no respect for those of the royal family. She didn’t bow, apologize or cry. She simply spoke, “If you wish, Your Highness, you could hand me that incredibly sharp knife you have beside you and I’d gladly use it to carve out your heart.”

The servant gasped and was on the verge of pulling Drew out of the dining room, but Malice simply waved him off in dismissal before replying to the assassin, “You see, darling, I prefer to be killed with a surprise attack, something like what you’ve attempted.”

Annoyed, Drew rolled her eyes and crossed her hands over her chest. “Don’t tell me that you got me dressed and cleaned just so we could chat. Do you not have your court to do that?” before Malice could reply, she continued. “Oh, wait. You don’t, because you scared most of them off!”

Malice placed his chin on his fist, watching her blue eyes blaze into life at the sight of his smile, “You sure do love to talk.”

“What can I say? It’s a hobby,” she looked around the room, staring at everything from the glistening floors to the giant chandelier that lit from the top. There was all kinds of art decorating the ceiling, most of it showing the ancient history of the kingdom. The statues that surrounded the room are also those of pet warriors that past generations held. Seeing as Malice’s parents hadn’t wanted any pets, they were the first ones to break off the silent tradition.

Drew looked back towards Malice and the wonder on her face once again morphed into disgust. “What am I doing here, Majesty?”

“You’ve been brought to dine with me,” he said calmly, and as if on cue, a maid came rushing in with another serving of porridge and juice.

Drew watched as the maid set down the food two chairs away from where Malice sat at the head of the table and quickly bowed to the king before rushing off. He didn’t so much as bat an eye at the maid, but simply kept watching the expressions on Drew’s face.

“If you think I’m going to sit and eat with you while the people of your kingdom are starving on the streets, then you’re deathly wrong,” when she saw that he wasn’t going to reply, Drew turned on her heel and marched off towards the door. “I’d rather rot in that stupid cell than eat in the same room as you.”

She outstretched her hand to open the door, but it didn’t budge. She tried again, but the door remained closed. Turning around, she noticed the king was fiddling with his knife, taking more interest in the pointed blade than the fact that the doors were locked.

“If you wish to leave this room, then you must sit down at this table and eat. Otherwise, we’re both going to be waiting here for a very long time,” he said, voice now husky and filled with an eerie sense of calmness.

“This isn’t as much of a good idea as you may think princeling. I can go days without meals, I don’t know how much you and your royal stomach can wait.”

Malice only smirked. “You’d be surprised, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you as I please, regardless of your protests. Now eat. The food is getting cold.”

Seeing her lack of options, Drew simply crossed her hands over her chest once again and slouched backward onto the doors, crossing one ankle over the other. “Make me.”

Malice’s chair scraped the floors as he rose from it, hands flat on the table. He didn’t feel any bit of anger or frustration claw its way upwards, nothing but the usual emptiness. Malice had expected this lady to make him feel some kind of emotion for once, something that isn’t boredom or numbness, but even her and her cocky attitude couldn’t manage to do so.

“Trust me, you do not want me to force you to do anything,” with each step towards the doors, Malice’s eyes didn’t stray from Drew’s glowing blue ones.

He watched as she looked him up and down before looking out towards the room, trying to replace an escape, but failing to replace anything that may help her. “I don’t simply kill those who disobey me, I torture them until they forget their own names. For those who speak like you, I cut off their tongues and shove them down their throats, piece by piece. For those who dare look me up and down like you, I pluck out their eyeballs and discard their bodies off in the forest for feral dogs to replace and eat,” he now reached the girl, her body shrinking before him as he placed a hand on the door behind her, caging her in, “and for those who refuse to do as I say, I cut off their fingers, one by one, and add them to my beautiful collection. Now, tell me. Why shouldn’t I do the same to you? Right here? Right now?”

Drew appeared to be speechless for once. Her eyes were wide and he finally catched that small glimpse of fear shining there. It was like replaceing a needle in a haystack, that small glint that showed him how she was just like everyone else. There was nothing special about this girl, nothing too important to dwell on.

Malice had seen enough of this disappointment. Sighing, he turned around to head back towards the table, except before he could take a single step further, he felt Drew grab his arm from behind and pull him backward. The king had no time to react as the assassin’s lips met his own and she pulled him down by his collar, their lips breaking only for a breath of air before they collided once again.

Malice’s mind ceased from working and every bit of anger drained out as Drew slid her hands under his cloak and wrapped her arms around him, only to push him away a moment later, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the very same hand that now held a familiar dagger. Malice’s dagger.

“What a clever young lady you are,” he said with a slight smirk as he wiped his own mouth, the feeling of her kiss still lingered on his lips. “How did you know about the dagger?”

Drew allowed a little smile to shine through as she aimed the dagger in front of her, ready to stab him at any moment, “I spotted it earlier while you rose from the table,” she peered down at it, inspecting the blade, “it is very beautiful, although I’m guessing that it’s missing something. Perhaps a bit of blue blood would do the trick.”

What Malice saw in Drew’s eyes wasn’t fear anymore. In fact, he realized that there was never actually fear in them in the first place. It was all an act intended to trick him into giving up.

This street peasant managed to trick him and was even willing to sacrifice her pride in order to reach her goal.

“You really are a fearless one, aren’t you?” he said slyly, daring to take one step forward. “What is it you are planning on doing with me now, if I may ask?”

Drew threw the knife in her hand upwards, catching it by the hilt and pretending to think deeply. “You know, those ideas you mentioned earlier sound awfully amusing. Perhaps I should try them on you? I’d say they’re a perfect punishment, don’t you think?”

All the king wanted to do was agree with her. To let her get that revenge all so he could see that look of triumph on her face one more time. It sounded like the perfect way for him to die, for the villain to be defeated, but something still didn’t feel right.

As Drew slashed the knife towards his throat, the perfect place to cut if you want a quick and painless death, Malice simply twisted out of her way and brought his right hand up, grabbing the assassin’s wrist firmly. She writhed under his grip, trying to free herself, but Malice continued squeezing her wrist harder in an attempt to make her let go of the blade.

Drew, on the other hand, didn’t seem ready to give up just yet. Given how close they were, she saw it as an opportunity to knee him in his crotch area, but Malice was even quicker. Using his other hand, he stopped her knee merely inches from its target, “That would have hurt much worse than the dagger, darling.”

Drew only hissed in frustration and, finally, dropped the dagger, allowing it to clink on the ground. “You’re a true bastard, you know that?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been told that,” replied Malice, bending over to pick up the dagger and inspecting it for scratches or dents. “You are a one of a kind woman. You’re not scared of death or torture, you have no family or friends waiting for you at home, and, for someone who had been raised on the streets, you’ve got marvelous acting and fighting skills. Who are you exactly, Drew?”

Her name felt odd on his tongue given how unusual the name was. He knew ‘Drew’ to be a boy’s name, one given to peasants whose sons end up becoming page boys or shoe shiners, yet here stood a young female who twice now had a knife to his throat.

Drew once again leaned on the door, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It seems like she also can’t get rid of that lingering feeling after their not-so-passionate kiss. She didn’t answer his question, rather decided to ignore it and instead came up with one of her own. “What is it you’ll do to me now, princeling? I’m sure there is another torture method up your sleeve that you’re just dying to use, isn’t there?”

Malice simply looked her up and down one more time, placed the dagger back in its place on his back, and motioned to the table behind him. “Your porridge is now deathly cold. Eat.”