To Bewitch a Devil

198 Don’t even think of touching me

“Do you think she actually met someone when she died?” Zavian asked.

“I don’t know”, Anna answered, looking at the closed doors to Neera’s chambers, trying to decipher the thrum of energy she had felt that enveloped the room. “You can ask her for me. I am trying to get to the root of this”, Anna pointed her gaze at the King. “Your Majesty, she made mention of the prophecy, have you given that any thought?”

Zavian stiffened. “I told Eloise I don’t believe in things like that. If prophecies were true, they could have prophesied Lilah’s death, or given Aloysius fair warning that I would take over the Kingdom and rule one day.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Don’t speak to me about prophecy anymore,” Zavian warned.

Anna massaged the healing pain in her left hand. She remembered the words of her mother, the fear of the future, and the present way the King threw caution to the wind in regard to Neera. If there was one thing Anna was grateful for, it was that she didn’t have the concept of love to muddle her view of reality. The King loved Neera, no doubt, and it messed his brain up in dealing with the truth.

Anna stepped away from Neera’s door. “Very well, your Majesty. I wish Neera the best recovery.”

Zavian gestured to the exit, and Anna took her exit wordlessly, the feeling of an impending doom cloaked around time passing.

….

.....

Freya drew up one conclusion alone.

As she stared at the map for what was probably the thousandth time, every road and valley and mountains etched in her brain permanently, there was only one thing that could explain the strange disappearances that had come and gone.

Aloysius had devised means inside the Underworld that demons on earth would never come to understand. Nothing else made sense than that, and she was going crazy.

So she set about to Zavian’s study to tell him, trying to find meaningful proof to pad her theory, and that was when she bumped into someone. The scream that erupted from that person was ear-shattering.

“Oh”, Jasmine bent over, palm pressed against her rapidly beating heart, and gasps coming out of her like a dying fish. “I thought… I thought… you were someone else.”

“And who else would give the Queen such a scare in the palace?” Freya asked.

Jasmine straightened, locking back some hair that escaped her delicately pinned-up hairstyle.

“I…never mind. Are you off to see your brother?” Jasmine asked.

“I don’t have any business with any other person in the palace.”

“True,” Jasmine attempted a smile, but it came out weak. “I always wanted a sister. Perhaps sometime soon, we can bond more over tea?”

It took Freya everything in her not to scoff. Suggesting tea was like suggesting watching paint dry. A meaningless waste of time if there was no sensible task passing by along with it.

“I’ll look into that offer someday, your Majesty”, she said instead. Jasmine was nothing but sweet, Freya knew she had no reason to turn her down.

“Or perhaps now? And in your private quarters?” Jasmine said hurriedly. “I will have the maids bring over the tea.”

What was with the rush? “Actually,” Freya started. “I am going to have a meeting with my brother, as I mentioned earlier.”

“Can’t it wait?” Jasmine was sounding breathless. Freya looked over the Queen’s shoulder, wondering why she was so frazzled and jittery.

“No”, Freya stated.

“You know what? I will just wait there for you to join me,” the Queen said. “I hear you keep to yourself a lot, so your quarters would be off-limits to most people in the castle…”

“… all people, actually…”

“… so since we are family now, I will just wait,” Jasmine said.

Perhaps it was the desperation in her voice that latched onto Freya, a cry for help. So Freya handed her the keys, aware of exactly where she kept her things in the chambers and never let anything of secret be kept public in case a maid walked in for cleaning. So if anything were touched, Jasmine would have to be blamed.

Jasmine hugged the keys to her chest, and Freya noted the relief on her face.

“Thank you”, Jasmine said. And just like the same flustered state she had run into Freya, she hurried down the hall to Freya’s chambers.

Freya dwelled on the Queen’s strangeness as she walked on. She should come out of her chambers more, she thought, see the drama going on in the castle that had skipped her. The maids will gossip, but no gossip could reach her ears where she was always holed up in the castle.

Freya saw someone in the hallway looking out the window. Her back was turned to her, and she had a short hair and a blood-red gown Freya would have loved to own. The person looked familiar, and Freya’s eyes widened with realization as she took in the King’s concubine.

How come she didn’t know she was alive? Whatever her brother had done had brought back his lover, and Neera was standing before her eyes.

“Well, what do we have here?” Freya folded her arms. “Have I been living under a rock?”

Neera turned her head only slightly and returned her gaze back to the window. Irritated by her dismissive gesture, Freya walked up to her, and just before her hand could land on Neera’s shoulder to forcefully turn her to face her, Neera said, her voice calm, “Don’t even think of touching me.”

Freya’s hand hung in the air. Neera finally turned around, and Freya’s brows bunched in scrutiny. The concubine looked fierce, and unafraid, and there was a cocky tilt of her head as she looked at Freya.

“Aggression has always been your first language,” Neera said. “But I am afraid you can’t speak it with me anymore.”

Freya stumbled back. “How are you alive?”

“A good question, which is none of your concern.”

“How dare you speak that way to me?”

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