The Dangers in My Evil Heart

“Come to think about it, Marquessa Ambrillia, how did you reach the forest?”

    The question suddenly came to my mind once we left the woods, as we were about to part ways. After all, I didn’t recall seeing the slightest hint of a carriage, even in the distance.

“I came on foot.”

“I see. That’s what I-”

    A pause.

    Seeing the smile upon her lips, I had the horrid feeling that she didn’t plan to correct herself.

“Ehh??”

“I came on foot.” She repeated with the same energy.

“What do you mean on foot?? We are at least three hours away from the closest cultivated fields!”

    She kept smiling.

    Maybe I just never got close enough to a lady to know. Maybe all women were monsters.

    Such that no banshee would repel.

“I’m bringing you home.”

    It wasn’t before we got inside the carriage that I realised my mistake.

    All along the way, I had to maintain composure despite sitting side by side with Ambrillia. Despite her playing with the frog plushie she held between her hands, squishing its cheeks repeatedly. An amused smile over her face.

    I wish I was a-

    No.

༻❦︎༺

    Unable to close my eyes after our shared afternoon, my mind keeps reeling.

“What she said… was she serious? Is it another trap?? Is she messing with me again??”

    I roll on my side, clutching a pillow against me with a frown.

“Why would someone like her accept me as I am?”

    For a moment, the quiet question lingers in the air.

    Perhaps the real question should be why she approached me at first during the last full moon. From the beginning, Ambrillia acted way too comfortably in my presence. Didn’t she fear me? I could have made a living hell out of her life if such were my whim. I could.

    In that regard… her words seem to convey some sort of pattern in her antics.

“Then does she really have no intent to drag me to the bright side?”

    I roll on my other side, torturing the pillow in my grasp.

“She finds me seductive?… Does she? While I would be the first to defend the evilness’s allure, hearing that from her…”

    A shiver runs up my spine, as if sensing an unfathomed threat behind that possibility.

    But if that much is true, if Ambrillia has no intent to fix me, then does it mean that all my problems are gone? Maybe I could become closer to her without fear of…

    The moment the thought forms, though, I understand how ridiculous that idea is.

“OF COURSE NOT!!!!!” I sit up in my bed, roaring in the dead of the night. “That doesn’t solve the problem since her sole presence is a poison to my evil blood!!”

“My lord, is everythulfrugfgululub-” Keillweist opens the door, dressed in a striped nightshirt and night cap, when I hurl my pillow wildly at the door.

    My little outburst must have woken him up, which isn’t much of a surprise since his bedroom is located close to mine.

“I’m fine. You can return to the confines of your room, Keillweist.”

“I doubt it.”

    The reply comes out so naturally that I feel too offended to scold him.

    He seems about to elaborate, but he barely opens his mouth before holding back the urge. Instead, he opts for a different approach.

“How did it go with the Marquessa Ambrillia today? Did you manage to send her back to her parents’ estate, my lord?”

“I… well, actually, she will return to Ambrosia tomorrow.”

    At my butler’s steady gaze, I find myself staring back.

    Only after a while do I avert my gaze with an unsatisfied expression.

“She resisted my attack.”

    Again, for a moment, none of us utters anything.

“Do you want me to plan her assassination?” Keillweist utters to my greatest surprise.

“And give them the chance to get close enough to her to smell her apricot scent? No. Nobody’s worthy enough to kill her.”

    Keillweist lingers a bit, observing me before he turns away, about to leave my bedroom. That is, until he pauses and takes a glance back, a mysterious aura clinging to him.

“My lord, if I may dare, you should be more careful. Love is even more dangerous than you think.”

༻❦︎༺

    Hovering around me at every possible angle, my tailor makes the latest adjustments to the costume I ordered from him.

“Just stay still for a couple minutes more, and it will be perfect!” My tailor promises, rearranging a strand of his long cream air.

“I am still, Alberto.” I retort. “I am always still.”

“Mmm, sure.” He says with a tone poorly matching his words.

    A frown forms on my already frowning expression as I glare at him. I swear this commoner is getting too comfortable around me. Does he think that I’ll tolerate it simply because we have known each other since childhood? Ohh the naive man.

“Do you have anything to say?” I utter with a note of danger.

“Well…” He cowardly trails off, averting his olive eyes.

“Next time, Alberto, know to tame your tongue from the beginning.” I pause. “Now spill the tea or I’ll spill your blood. And I’d hate to change the carpet again.”

“Okay, please don’t. I’d hate blood to splatter on the costume I just finished.” The tailor notes with a worried frown. “The thing is… How should I phrase this? …Lately, there are rumours circulating in the village. Rumours about the Duke Luphor and his fiancée.”

    His exotic words make me raise an eyebrow.

“Which fiancée? I don’t have a-”

“The Marquessa Ambrillia.”

    My heart skips a beat I’ll pretend it never did.

“Some say that you saved the sweet shop of the old Graths from closure, and he himself claims to whoever is willing to hear that you gave him a second chance, and that the marquessa fuelled him with a renewed energy to craft the sweetest of candy feathers.”

    I wince at the accusations, but then Alberto resumes.

“The villagers who witnessed the planned execution the other day say that you couldn’t bring yourself to kill two innocents and ended up sparing their lives.”

“What?! That’s not how that happened!!”

“Ohh, and some say that you buy animals from the dark market to release them into the wild.”

“I never did that????”

    How dare they? How dare they distort the truth and goodmouth me like this?! I’ll find them. I’ll make them repent.

    I begin pacing the living room, my fingers pressed against my chin.

“Where is this thing about animals even coming from?” That’s when the dots connect. “Ohh. The frogs? But nobody even saw me releasing them. I made sure there was not a single soul around… Nobody should have been able to start such a rumour. The marquessa?? The other rumours could have been her deeds, but she couldn’t know about the frogs… And she returned to her estate the day following our encounter in the woods.”

    It almost sounds like someone has been observing me all this time.

“The Devil?” I pause my pacing to raise an eyebrow.

“Duke Luphor, I’m glad to know that you finally found someone who understands you. The Marquessa Ambrillia is really a woman of taste.”

    At his words, I turn to my tailor.

“Of course she is.” I frown, offended someone would ever think about doubting her qualities. “And don’t speak like that again. That makes you sound like a mother hen. I’m feeling things I preferred I never had.”

    Come to think about it… As much as it seems obvious that Ambrillia deserves nothing else than to be praised, a contradictory feeling bubbles inside me. An unwelcome one.

“Wait. Why does it feel like you had the occasion to speak to her?”

    Paranoia.

“Because I did?”

    The heathen considers letting me be with this mock answer, though the glare I cast him must have made him reconsider it, since he ends up elaborating.

“She wanted me to show her how I dye fabrics, and we had the opportunity to get to know each other a bit.”

“Ohh.” I avert my gaze.

    Silence fills the room, lacking the grace following an enemy’s last breath.

“Are you jealous?”

“I’m not.” I reply as quickly as the thought forms.

    A chuckle. As soon as I turn my head towards my tailor, though, he schools back his features. Not that I can’t feel his smile the moment I turn my back to him.

“Anyway, rest assured that the connection between us is purely… conspiratorial.” Alberto resumes. “It just so happens that we have a common passion, let’s say.”

    For some reason I absolutely refuse to be aware of, I can feel a shiver run up my spine at his last words. A shiver of dread.

    Only once my tailor leaves my mansion do I return to my bedroom, making sure everything is ready for tomorrow evening. Glancing at the desk, I observe the black envelope left there and approach enough to grab it. From the tips of my gloved fingers, I unfold the letter inside.

    The paper of the same grim colour has a few lines inked in crimson over it, letters curved yet their edges rough, almost filled with malevolent intent.

    With a smirk, I glance at the moon beyond the window. Reduced to a crescent as thin as a hair stand. By tomorrow it’ll have disappeared, and will come the time for the moonly evening gathering all the most vile and twisted spirits in Emphrellaig. The Night of the Evil Moon.