Word Count: 1853

~Lavelle

The world spins above me as I slowly blink my eyes open.

My groan is stifled in my throat, a dull ache forming between my temples. My mouth is dry, and my body feels impossibly weak.

Where am I?

For a moment, my mind is vacant. I scrape the edges and come up with nothing, wondering why I'm in this pink room on a soft mattress that is scented like lavender.

Then I realise — Zyre drugged me.

I roll onto my side, my stomach roiling. Everything blurs before it comes into focus again, darkness shifting and undulating at the edges of my vision.

It's dark. Is it the same night as the ball, or the next one? The sound of music has vanished from below, but vacantly, I can hear hurried footsteps and tense voices.

I need to get up, and I need to get myself out of here. Something terrible is happening.

After a few feeble attempts, I manage to uproot myself from the bed. The pink of the bedroom, deepened to dark shades by the nights shadows, swims in my vision as I attempt to keep myself upright.

Eventually, I manage a step, trying to ignore the metallic taste on the back of my tongue. Whatever Zyre gave me knocked me out good — who knows what has occurred since then.

Looking down, I grimace at the sight of my wedding dress. It's been ripped in one place, tulle hanging limply from skirt.

I shred the layer off, satisfied with the violent tearing sound that accompanies it.

I hate this damned dress.

Something shattering from downstairs makes me straighten, straining to listen. It's accompanied by a muffled scream, and then nothing.

A chill crawls up the back of my neck. My husband.

I rush to the door, not bothering with my shoes. If something is going on here, Avi will be the target, no doubt. I need to ensure he's safe.

One tug on my doorhandle tells me I've been locked in.

I step back, huffing out a breath. Zyre is going to pay for this, if I ever see him again.

I don't want to bang on the door and demand my release, lest I announce I'm here and get myself killed. Zyre knows I'm up here, but does anyone else know? I'm not sure I want to take that risk.

I wander to the window, peering out into the dark toward the back lawn.

Figures move below. Some are huddled in groups, talking discreetly. Others move by quickly, guided by instructions or their own motivations.

Either way, they are armed. And they are not Avi's men.

Fear compresses against my chest as I take a shuddering step back. The terrible thing that is happening here is starting to feel like an invasion.

Zyre is involved, clearly. Has that been his plan all along, to bring soldiers in from his brothers pack on his behalf, so they can take over? It wouldn't surprise me, since Zyre's brother is a power hungry monster who drains the land he claims.

I need to get to Avi. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I fled.

Searching the room, my eyes land a crystal statute of a dove on my vanity. Avi gifted it to me, and like the diamond necklace I almost lost, and have now stored safely away, is far too expensive.

Unfortunately, I have cause to sacrifice it.

It feels heavy against my palm as I approach the door again. I strike it once against the doorhandle, and then again. A crack slices through the middle of the statute, but I slam is down one more time, until the handle bends unnaturally before snapping away, disengaging the lock with it.

I exhale slowly, dumping the statute onto the rug. I'm free.

The hallway is quiet as I slowly open the door and peer out. I can hear the commotion from downstairs more clearly now, although the speech is still illegible.

I need to find Avi, or one of his guards at least. They'll be trained on what to do in this situation.

Padding in the opposite direction of the noise, I make my way toward the back of the palace. Each corner I wait, check it's clear, then continue on.

Not ridding of this dress for an outfit more convert was a mistake. Not only am I dressed in resplendent white, each step makes a distinct rustling sound that gives away my position well before I can do much about it.

As I round a corner, heading toward Avi's quarters, something on the ground gives me pause.

Two guards are slumped against the wall, heads lolled to the side, eyes stuck open.

I rush to approach, crouching down beside them. I don't recognise them, but they are wearing Avi's guard livery, and clearly died defending these guards.

I wince, avoiding the blood pooling around them in a thick, viscous puddle as I check their pulses. They are dead, but their bodies are still warm against my fingertips.

Gently, I press their eyes closed before I continue on. I would arm myself with their weapons, but they have been stripped of them by whoever took their lives.

On my way to Avi's room, I pass over more guards. I check the pulses of each, then their person for something to defend myself with, but I come up with nothing.

Whoever is doing this has been methodical, and no less brutal in cutting through each guard. They wear a litany of oozing wounds, but at least they all seem to have died swiftly.

Once I reach Avi's room, a cold shudder dances down my spine.

His door is ajar.

Inside his room, I find more guards, but no Avi. From the broken furniture in the room, he's been wrestled from here, and taken elsewhere.

My hand lays on my stomach, bile rising in my throat. I swallow away the feeling of nausea, forcing myself to focus.

Avi could be dead by now, but the lack of his body in this room tells me they've transported him elsewhere, for whatever reason. It's unlikely he's still in this palace, which means I need to get out of here, and get help.

Hiking up my skirts, I rush back into the hallway, but I don't return the way I came. I pass through more doors and corridors, my heart beating in my ears as I shove into unexplored rooms, looking for a way downstairs that I know there must be.

Eventually I find a set of small stairs that spiral downwards. The relieving sense of familiarity claims me — these are the stairs I climbed to get away from Avi the night of the first ball.

Sure enough, I emerge out into the main corridor, a cold breeze brushing against the bare skin of my arms.

Voices drift from down the way, where the ballroom entrance is. I retreat back onto the stairs, drenching myself in shadows. I hold my breath, trying to listen.

I only catch parts of the two people's conversations.

"Leave him...he'll be here soon..." Voices coil together, almost indiscernible from one another. "I have too...she will be...he won't like that."

I frown. The nature of their conversation is lost on me.

Eventually they wander away, still lost in whatever nonsense they are talking about.

Taking my opportunity, I rush down the corridor. The marble floor is cold beneath my bare feet, but I charge onward, knowing this is the only feasible exit I am familiar with.

As I pass by the entrance to the ballroom, I pause, glancing in.

I want to see what is left of the reception. What feels like moments ago, I was dancing with Avi amongst the gilded light, wondering what our future would look like together.

Now, the room is cloaked in darkness. Decorations are still hung from the walls and the ceiling, and trays of food and drink remain, half consumed on tables all about.

And in the middle of the room, is Avi, alone and tied.

I freeze, my mind hitting a jarring stop.

His head is bowed, golden hair raining down over his eyes. I approach swiftly, barely looking to see if anyone is watching him.

He glances up as I kneel before him, his expression pained.

"Are you okay?" I ask breathlessly, scanning him quickly.

His face is bruised, and there's a cut across his cheek, and one on his forehead. They have been bleeding, the evidence of it stained over his skin, but thankfully they seemed to have stopped.

He shakes his head, clearly exhausted. "Lavelle..."

I look down at his hands tied in front of him. He's still wearing his wedding attire, which means it's still the same night.

"What is going on?" I demand, pulling at his bounds. They are tied expertly, but I'm determined.

"I'm so sorry," he chokes out. One glance at his face tells me he's been crying. "This is all my fault."

"Who is doing this?" I question, although I already figure.

Damn these impossible binds. No matter how hard I dig my fingertips into gaps in the tie, I can't seem to wedge them free. His ankles are tied too, so I move on to loosening those.

"I'm a terrible person." His voice aches. "I was only ever going to hurt you."

I sigh, ignoring him. This has shaken him to the core, or he's been hit too hard in the head. Either way, he isn't coping, and who can blame him? We're under attack.

"I need to find a knife to cut these ropes," I say, checking his person. Once again, I come up with nothing.

"You need to run...now," he insists.

"You're hurt, Avi. I'm not going anywhere." He's my husband, I care about him. Leaving him here to die isn't an option.

He meets my stare, one of his eyes almost not visible beneath the swelling. "You...must. There is still time."

"Where are your guards? Who did this to you?" I wince. "I'm sorry, I should only be asking one question at once."

"Run, Lavelle!" His voice booms through the gaping ballroom, pure terror in his eyes. "If you don't leave right now, you'll die."

I don't want to leave, but I need to find something sharp to cut away the ropes from Avi. We don't stand a chance otherwise.

Standing, I turn, only to stop short.

Zyre has walked through the entrance to the ballroom, hands in his pockets. He's wearing what he wore to our wedding, although his sleeve is ripped and there's blood on the fabric.

He looks utterly terrifying, an eerie calm on his perfect face.

"I'm sorry Lavelle," he murmurs darkly. "I'm afraid it's too late."

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~Midika 💜🐈‍⬛